by Celia Kyle
But it boiled down to Ty and Reid having a “more active” hand in the evacuation plans. Ty shared Van’s opinion—slowly ease the elderly and injured from the lands. Reid shared Morgan’s—get them the hell out of town, even if they had to be dragged out.
The only difference between Reid and Morgan were their methods. Oh, Morgan played the “yes boy” in public very well, but Van saw the glint of evil in the wolf’s eyes. Morgan wouldn’t have trouble slitting a few hyena throats if needed.
Something to talk to Ty about.
Van spied Martin’s house and pulled into the driveway. Lauren was inside. He saw her through the front window, the drawn curtains allowing him to watch her smile at his brother.
He’d talk to Ty about Morgan… tomorrow. He had shit to do tonight.
He cut the engine on his SUV and climbed from the vehicle, letting the door swing closed. Two sets of midnight eyes met his through the window.
Good. Keen and Martin needed to keep their bears within reach inside themselves. Sure, Mayor Davies was a prick, but he was a powerful prick. Van had done his research, knew the number of times Anna Davies had encountered an aggressive “door.” He also knew how many times the man got away with it.
Van’s bear pushed forward, recognizing they, too, needed to be prepared for an attack. Davies had gone after Lauren on a public street. What’d stop him from sending someone in now?
Nothing. Nothing but him, Keen, and Martin.
The women noticed the men at the table were focused on him and their gazes strayed to the window. The tension in Anna immediately eased, but Lauren’s seemed to gain steam. Her face flushed red, her hand shaking as she placed her fork on the plate. Apparently, he got to her, too. At least he wasn’t the only one affected by this thing between them.
Tearing his gaze from her, he moved to the porch. He took the steps two at a time and stomped onto the wooden surface, shaking any residual dirt free of the soles. His momma didn’t raise a rude slob.
The locks on the door flicked and it swung open to reveal an uncomfortable looking Keen. “I may, or may not, have screwed shit up.”
Van groaned and let his head drop back. “Will anyone be injured or killed because of what you did?”
“Besides me? No.”
He looked to Keen. “Then lemme see Lauren and feed the bear. Then we can talk.”
His brother winced. “Well… you see… about Lauren…”
Chapter Five
Lauren hid in Martin’s spare bedroom. Cowardly? Absolutely. But it was better than staring at Van and wishing there was something more between them than obligation and hero worship.
Worship. She groaned. She wanted to worship something.
Nope. Not happening.
Yesterday had been too busy and hectic that neither woman had nothing more than the clothes on their backs. Earlier in the day, Martin took Anna to her home to pack a few things. Lauren had the same plan in mind when she’d first left Martin’s, but Keen hadn’t given her that option. Or rather, Van gave specific instructions and Keen was sticking to them.
She grabbed Anna’s PJs from the bed. Thankfully, her friend’s clothes fit her. Well, fit-ish. The top would be tight across the chest and a little snug on her ass, but it was better than the clothes on her back.
Night clothes in hand, she walked down the hall to the bathroom. The house was mostly quiet. The low rumble of Van’s and Keen’s voices reached her, but she knew Keen would be leaving soon. During dinner, Van stated he would be guarding the house overnight and Keen would be back in the morning.
She ignored the small shiver of pleasure that raced down her spine at the idea of Van being so close. Ig-nored.
Lauren stepped into the small bathroom, noting the counter was barely big enough for the sink and the single toilet to the left. The shower was a combo-shower deal—tub on the bottom with a showerhead.
She quickly stripped, keeping her gaze from the mirror as she peeled off her clothes. She knew the location of the bruises, she didn’t need to see them in color to know they existed.
Her dirty top and shorts were left on the ground while she tossed her panties and bra into the sink. She’d wash and rinse them after her shower. She didn’t mind handing her shirt and shorts to Martin to be run through his machine, but she drew the line at a near stranger fondling her underwear.
Fondling…
Damn it, she couldn’t get distracted by Van and ideas of fondling.
Shaking her head, she focused on showering, getting clean and washing away the hellacious day. The water heated and she stepped beneath the spray, enjoying the warm liquid rushing over her muscles, easing some of her pain.
She dropped her head forward, stretching her neck, and worked out a kink or two in the process. A tip to the left, then right, had the joints cracking and she moaned at the release of pressure. The sound echoed off the walls, slowly dying, buried by the ping of water against the tiles.
A heavy vibration traveled through her feet, the rapid thud of someone running immediately following the noises.
What the…?
Lauren brushed the shower curtain aside and reached for the towel hanging from the rack. The men’s awareness and anticipation of trouble had her nerves on edge. The last thing she wanted to do was take a shower if there was a looming threat.
Hand on the fluffy, white towel, the door burst open, panel slamming and banging against the wall. Lauren screamed, dropping the drying cloth, and yanking the curtain across her body. Okay, it was stupid to use the flimsy piece of plastic and fabric as a shield, but she had to hide behind something.
“What’s wrong?” Van stood framed in the doorway, his chest heaving, looking larger than before. His clothes stretched taut over his body, outlining each muscle. Damn.
“Nothing.”
Keen’s head appeared over Van’s shoulder and she squeaked, holding the curtain a little tighter.
Van looked over his shoulder and growled at his brother, shoving the man from the doorway. “Stop looking.”
“You’re looking,” Keen fired back and another growl filled the area.
Van stepped into the bathroom—into the bathroom—and slammed the door behind him. She heard other voices, Anna’s worried tone followed by muffled, placating words from Keen.
Good, she didn’t want anyone worrying. Then again, she was panicking because a very agitated, very large Van Abrams was currently in the very tiny, very cramped bathroom with her.
And she was naked.
Her body reacted to that fact, nipples pebbling, and an unfulfilled ache settled between her thighs. No, bad body, bad.
Except… except he was sex personified.
“I-I said nothing was wrong.”
Van raised a single brow and leaned against the closed door, arms folded across his massive chest. “I heard you the first time. But you moaned.” A grin teased his lips. He inhaled deep, nostrils flaring, and then his grin turned into something purely sexual. What the hell? “If you weren’t groaning in pain, why’d you make that sweet sound?”
Sweet sound?
Lauren gulped and she let her gaze wander before answering. His body pushed his clothes to the edge of tearing. Every muscle seemed larger, more defined. She took in his bulging biceps and flat stomach as well as his rather large, rather impressive, package.
And then it twitched.
She snapped her eyes closed. “I cracked my neck. My muscles are tight and—”
“I can take care of that for you, baby.”
She forced her lids apart and jumped in surprise. He’d moved from negligently leaning against the door to less than six inches from her. He crowded her, his mere presence overwhelming.
And the heat… Sensual promise, want, and need lived in his gaze. He really was walking, talking hotness. His body was built to arouse a woman and she was sure he knew it.
The warmth between her thighs grew and increased in heat. Her pussy clenched, practically begging for Van. It was screaming a big ’ole “yes, please
!” and she was sad to disappoint that part of her.
“I’m… I’m fine.” He reached for her, his massive hand heading toward her face like when she was locked up. Instead of letting him touch her, she jerked back. No sense in teasing herself with something he wasn’t offering.
Protective papa bear, right? Right.
Desire fled his gaze and her heart twinged. Had she hurt him? Well, she didn’t want to let herself get hurt.
She licked her lips and offered an explanation. “Look, I know this situation has you wanting to play papa bear. Keen explained it to me. So,” she shrugged, “I get it. I’m just… a damsel in distress.”
His gaze darkened, brown eyes changing to black. Already she could read him, recognized the frustration and hint of anger in his expression. “Papa bear? Damsel in…”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His nostrils flared, irises darkening further. The snap of string filled some of the silence and she wondered if he’d popped a stich in his shirt or jeans.
“Keen said this?”
Lauren nodded.
Van eased closer and his scent surrounded her, the hint of man and sweat reaching her. The ache grew, filling her with desperate desire. She wanted him, wanted him inside her while his lips tracing her curves. All of them. And thank goodness she had so many that it’d take a while.
His chest brushed hers, the curtain the only thing separating their bodies, and she swallowed her whimper. The added pressure had her nipples hardening further, begging to be touched, stroked, and pinched.
“Baby,” he leaned into her, mouth hovering out of reach. “Daddy stuff isn’t my kink, but you can call me ‘papa’ if it means getting you in my bed. Feel free to indulge yourself.”
“Daddy… Indulge…” she sputtered and shook her head. “That’s not… Bed…”
Van darted forward, his teeth nipping her lower lip, and she shivered with that sting of pain. “I gotta tell you, though. The last thing I feel about you is paternal.”
A thick muscular arm wrapped around her waist, stroking her bare skin. The touch sent her arousal skyrocketing, soaring higher. Her pussy clenched, growing slick with her need and want. She released the curtain and placed her damp palm on his chest, noting the way his muscle flexed beneath her hand.
“Van, wha—?”
Her question was silenced by his mouth, his lips fusing to hers. His tongue slipped into her. He lapped at her, tasting her, and she reveled in the beginnings of their kiss, she let him direct the heat, the intensity of the meeting. And then she took control. She twined her tongue with his, tangling as she sought out his flavors.
Heat blossomed, growing and burning as they remain connected.
Her pussy throbbed, clit twitching with the desire to be stroked, petted, and kissed. Yes, she wanted his mouth between her thighs, tasting and caressing her until she came.
Lauren moaned against his mouth, pressing harder, sliding deep into him. The dark flavors inherent to him exploded across her tongue, luring her need to rise to new heights.
The hand against her back moved, stroked the upper curve of her ass, and slipped lower. Van squeezed the globe, hand kneading her, touching and arousing, making her need so much more.
She sucked on his tongue, showing him what she could do with her mouth if they ventured that far. She’d suckle him, lick and taste and…
A harsh cough from outside the bathroom broke into her desire-filled world, reminding her where she was and who she was with.
Van Abrams. Cop. Protector. Papa Bear.
But… “The last thing I feel about you is paternal.”
Well, the last thing she wanted to be was a notch on a belt or a duty.
Lauren pulled her lips away from his and snatched her hand back, snaring the curtain and holding it tight. She shifted her body, leaning back, hoping he got the hint.
Unfortunately, he did not. Nope, he let her mouth remain free, but that arm lingered like a steel band across her back. Those eyes, those midnight eyes locked on her.
“What?”
The scruff on his cheeks looked longer than before. That, or the lighting was different, making it look like he had a lot more than an afternoon’s shadow.
“Uh, the Ita—” She recognized Martin’s voice. “Mia’s on the phone for you, Van.”
The body pressed so intimately against hers tensed and stilled for a moment. He tightened his hold the tiniest bit, and then released her. “I’m coming. Gimme a minute.”
Lauren squirmed, intent on getting away. She didn’t like the heat in his gaze, didn’t like the desire flaring in his eyes. She pretended not to like the long, thick hardness pressing against her hip, too. Except… notch or duty, he couldn’t feign his arousal, his need for her. No other half-naked women were in the bathroom which meant his hard-on was all for curvy, not-so-little Lauren Evans.
“We’re gonna finish this.” His deep voice rumbled through her.
“There’s nothing to finish. I need to focus on Anna and the mayor and—”
Van nipped her lower lip, silencing her with that small bite. “Let Martin focus on Anna.”
“She’s my best friend.”
“And I’m pretty sure she’s his mate,” he countered. “No one will protect her more fiercely than him.”
Mate?
“You mean her boyfriend? Martin’s a nice enough guy, but Anna’s still married. She doesn’t need to get mixed up—”
Another kiss, this one deeper, dominating and aggressive. He took control from the first touch of their tongues. He growled and snarled against her lips, seeming to consume her. She responded to his authority, arousal shooting high and she rocked her hips against his, enjoying his low moan. Her body screamed for his possession, to have him sinking into her over and over again as she came around his cock.
Just as the kiss threatened to overwhelm her, it ended, Van wrenching his lips from hers. He pressed his face against her neck, nuzzling her, burying himself in her wet hair. His lungs heaved, their heavy pants joining the patter of water against the smooth tiles in the shower.
Van set his teeth against her skin, biting down hard enough to send a sliver of pain tinged pleasure through her. He held her flesh, for one second and then two before releasing her. He laved the ache and soothed it with his tongue.
Lauren nudged him away, pushing until a little more space separated them. He was overwhelming her with his closeness. “You’ve got a call to answer. And you need to tell Martin to leave Anna be. She’s healing and will be going through a divorce soon. Bryson is a dick…”
“Who has his sights set on the two of you,” Van finished. “Martin will take care of Anna. No one will get to her. It’s you I’m worried about.” And he was, she saw it in his expression.
“Why? I mean, I’ve pissed him off, but—”
“But he has friends. Friends that aren’t bea— That I don’t know about. You beat him and helped his wife escape. I’d rather be safe than sorry. He attacked you on the street, Lauren.” He didn’t touch her after that statement, but she sensed his desire to reach for her, place his hands on her body. Part of her wanted the same thing, wanted to enjoy his touch. But she also knew that’d be a mistake. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”
A pounding on the bathroom door ended their conversation. He stared at her, his gaze boring into her, and then turned toward the door. He grabbed the knob and pulled it open. Keen lingered outside the door and she tightened her flimsy shield, ensuring she wasn’t exposed.
As Van stepped across the threshold, he turned back to her, desire banked, but still simmering in his expression. “This isn’t done, Lauren.”
Oh.
Well, then.
She should have taken it as a warning, a threatening precursor for the future. Instead, it made her hot.
Stupid dry spell.
*
Van’s cock was so hard he could pound nails with the damned thing. His uniform pants were tight, strangling his dick. Hell, every p
iece of fabric on him was tight. The bear had come out to play, nudged him, and managed to increase his bulk. The damn animal didn’t think about things like buying new clothes.
“What’s wrong?” He snarled at his brother as he followed him through the house.
“Mia was worried about you.”
He furrowed his brow. Mia was his brother’s mate. The woman was a few weeks pregnant and his brother doted on her. “But, why?”
“I dunno,” Keen shrugged. “Something about the jerk in Boyne Falls. I told her you were off doing some huma—”
Van didn’t hesitate, without conscious thought, he wrapped his hand around his brother’s throat. He backed Keen up until he collided with the wall. Then he lifted, raising his brother so his feet barely touched the ground.
“Excuse me?”
Keen scratched and pulled on Van’s arm, but Van wasn’t moving. How dare he refer to Lauren as “some human?” Didn’t he understand…?
“Van.” A lyrical voice drifted to him, sliding into him, and the bear rumbled in approval. “Van, stop that,” the voice snapped at him. Well, the bear didn’t like that. “Let him go.” Then the voice growled at him and the beast was back to rumbling.
Even if the voice yelled at him, it was strong—stood up to him. It was good for the Enforcer’s mate to be strong. The Enforcer’s mate—
Van released Keen, snatching his hand back as if his brother burned him, and he looked for the voice’s source. It didn’t take him long to find it. Didn’t take him long to spy a wet-haired goddess glaring at him from the entrance to the living room.
Mate?
The bear rumbled in approval.
Shit.
Keen sucked in air, bent at the waist as he fought for breath. Which left him distracted by Lauren, her damp hair, and the way Anna’s clothes clung to her moist body. The shirt was just tight enough to be nearing obscene. It cradled her plump breasts, and her nipples were hard and pressing against the thin fabric. The tiny shorts outlined the dip of her waist and flare of her hips. He wanted to grip them as he slid into her, buried himself in her slick pussy.
The bear really liked those ideas.