by Layla Nash
He shook his head. “How many toys does that beast actually need? And why are they all under the couch?”
“He chases them under there and then can’t get them out,” she muttered, eyeing him sideways like she expected a joke or two.
Instead, Evershaw slid his free hand into her hair and hauled her over to him so he could kiss her again. He wanted her accustomed to him so she wouldn’t jump every time he touched her or moved around her. She found strength and poise in whatever trick gave her the witch-bitch face to wear, but without it, she startled as easily as a cute little fluffy rabbit breaking cover right in front of a wolf.
His lips lingered over hers so he could taste her breath and the way she panted, then he murmured, “Maybe get him a real mouse and it would run out from under the couch on its own.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said.
The witch looked a little dazed, her fingertips drifting over her mouth like she couldn’t believe the kiss ended, and Evershaw preened to think he’d made her wobbly on her feet. But it didn’t take long before he knew something else made her unsteady. Deirdre reached for his arm and he braced her, scooped her up, and shouted for Mercy and Todd to get their asses inside.
Deirdre, at least, looked a little irritated. “I’m not helpless. I just got a little dizzy. And I am perfectly capable of walking to the damn car.”
“Probably,” Evershaw said. “But I don’t trust you to listen to reason. You’d walk there even if you knew you’d fall on your face, just to spite me.”
Those jade green eyes narrowed as she scowled at him. “You’re on dangerous ground, wolf.”
“You’re cute when you’re mad.” And he kissed the tip of her nose to illustrate just how amusing he found her. “Mercy, get those books and the cat food into the car. Todd, do a sweep to make sure everything is unplugged and the lights are out, then lock up.”
Deirdre stuttered but he didn’t give her time to come up with her own instructions for his pack, then swept her out to the car. She reluctantly let Mercy take the books and then abruptly held onto his neck when Evershaw pretended to drop her, and the witch fixed him with a death glare that aaaaaalmost made him fear for the safety of his junk. At least she couldn’t hex him yet. He’d have to figure out how far he could push her as soon as that geas was gone.
The witch leaned around him to call after Mercy. “And the herbs. I need to get the canvas bag with—”
“Already in the car,” Henry said, ducking inside from the front porch to take the bags that Todd juggled. “Did you know your neighbors are selling their house?”
She frowned, carrying on a normal conversation despite that Evershaw carried her outside and toward the car, and absently rested her chin on his shoulder as she watched the other shifters roaming around her property. “They are? I thought the Westbrooks would stick around. They just finished remodeling their kitchen.”
Evershaw wanted to spin around and shout to the fucking world that the witch put her head on his shoulder and breathed against his skin, that she wasn’t wiggling around and trying to get away from him. He would have been content to walk all the way back to the warehouse with her in his arms, just so he could smell her hair and revel in the warmth of her curves pressed against him.
Mercy bounded past him to load the rest of the stuff into the SUV, then opened the rear door so Evershaw could slide Deirdre right onto the seat. She immediately started to stand up, craning her neck to ask Henry something, but Evershaw nudged her back into the car. “We can talk more inside. I don’t want to hang around here too long.”
The witch gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Watch the bossiness. Just because I let you kiss me doesn’t mean I’ll let you tell me what to do.”
The spark in her eyes made his insides twist and sent a surge of lust straight to his cock. He’d tell her what to do all right, as soon as he could get her in bed, and from the way she’d jumped when he smacked her ass, he was pretty sure she’d enjoy it. He loved the challenge, the promise that he’d have to work for it. He’d have to earn her, to earn every moment with her. Even if it meant curling up on the couch to watch shitty movies all afternoon.
Evershaw caught her face in his hands and dragged her lips close enough he could brush his mouth against hers and murmur, “We’ll see about that.”
Her whole face went bright red and Evershaw couldn’t contain a slow smile that dragged across his face. He definitely had a plan for her.
Chapter 50
Deirdre
I tried to compose myself the whole ride back to the warehouse, despite that Miles’s hand rested on my thigh the entire way and we weren’t alone in the car. I got the feeling he would have rather been making out instead of just sitting there, but I wasn’t ready to just canoodle with him in public. Not yet. Even though I caught Mercy grinning and Todd periodically chuckled at whatever it was Miles said to me about my cat and the ridiculous number of cat toys that lived under the couch.
It felt comfortable and normal and... right. I wanted to pinch myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream, although it would have been a pretty fucked up dream to start with a kidnapping and end up in love.
Love. I went still and stared out the window. Could I love Miles? Did I? It had only been a week, maybe a little more, and he’d kidnapped me, held me hostage, saved my life... I was still tied to him by Smith and someone was definitely still trying to kill him, which didn’t make him a great prospect. But underneath it all... my stomach squirmed and my heart raced and I just felt better when he was nearby.
My breath caught as I tried to imagine going back to life alone in my house, and my vision blurred as I struggled to keep the tears at bay. I didn’t want to burst into tears in front of them. There wasn’t any reason. It wasn’t like Miles actually meant what he’d said when he invited me to live with him. He was all handsy and wanted to make out, but that didn’t translate into anything real or long-term, not with a guy like him. Like Henry had said, Miles didn’t let women stay long in his life. He got what he wanted and then moved on.
There was no reason, really, to expect that I’d be any different, even if Mercy and Henry thought I was.
Miles squeezed my knee and leaned close until his shoulder bumped mine. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. I feigned a yawn. “Just a little tired still. Make sure you don’t try to die again for a couple of hours, okay?”
I caught his smile from the corner of my eye, and his hand slid a little higher on my thigh. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Like he had something else planned entirely and didn’t mean to let death itself stand in the way.
My face burned and I really hoped no one else looked at me or talked to me until I’d managed to regain my composure. “Right.”
Miles chuckled but didn’t say anything else until the SUV rolled into the giant garage in the back of the warehouse buildings they called home. I looked around and tried to imagine myself living there, being a part of their pack, and what my life would look like being with Miles.
Everyone smiled and immediately jumped to make things happen, including whisking the books and herbs and cat food upstairs and out of sight while I was still sliding down the seat and clambering out the door, since Miles still insisted I exit the car on his side.
We’d have to talk about that bullshit, because I was not going to spend my life crawling over a backseat when there was a perfectly good door on the other side.
And again my whole reality glitched as I tried to reconcile assuming I would be with Miles the rest of my life with our current still-contentious relationship.
I shook myself as I avoided Miles’s efforts to pick me up again, poking him in the chest to show him I meant business, and put aside the possibility of spending my life with him or the pack. I really couldn’t get my hopes up. We wouldn’t even be on a level playing field until after the geas was removed and he didn’t need me to stay alive and I wasn’t held hostage against my will.
Neither of us spoke
until we were upstairs again in his suite. Oddly, my books and the herbs and the cat food were all there, most in my room. Someone put the cat food bags in the kitchen, but no sign of Mercy or Henry remained. It made my heart beat a little faster. What was he planning? Were they in on it?
“Shouldn’t you be trying to figure out who wants to kill you?” I leaned against the kitchen counter and reached for a bowl so I could feed Cricket. He hopped up onto one of the tall stools and meowed, head-butting me before growling at Miles when he retrieved a beer from the fridge.
“We’re working on it,” he said, smiling blandly but not offering up any more details. He did glare at the cat, though, and even curled his lip in a threat.
I laughed and dumped the fancy real fish cat food into the bowl. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re making faces at my cat?”
“He’s guarding you,” Miles said. “I don’t like it.”
“He’s a cat,” I said. “He’s my precious darling little furbaby. And you’re—what? Ten times his size? Twenty times?”
Miles just watched as I put the cat food on the floor and Cricket hopped down to inhale it. Sudden nerves made me shy. We hadn’t really been alone together since that morning, when he’d practically made himself a blanket over and around me in his bed. After we’d made out and he’d gotten sick and I thought he’d died.
He got me a beer as I hesitated in the kitchen, though I couldn’t quite look at him. “What do you want to do?”
I took a deep breath and sipped the beer to buy myself some time. When I still hadn’t come up with anything good, I shrugged and pasted a smile on my face. “I don’t know. Maybe you could run around in the city and we can see who shows up to kill you?”
Miles snorted but his eyes gleamed and grew very intense, and he stepped toward me slowly, deliberately. I sucked in a breath and retreated until I bumped into the fridge. His head cocked, more like a curious wolf than a person, and a smile tugged at his mouth. “Whatcha thinking, Deirdre?”
Oh, Holy Mother. I liked the way he said my name. I couldn’t remember hearing it from him before, but that moment made up for it. It sounded right, like the syllables fit in his mouth. And that made me blush even more, since I couldn’t think of anything fitting in his mouth without thinking of other things that might fit in his mouth.
The smile spread. “Why are you blushing so much?”
“No reason,” I said. I pressed my hand against his chest to push him back a step. “Don’t you have real work to do? Like, a job?”
Miles paid most of his attention to my mouth, his eyes going gold-brown. “Nah. Todd can handle it. We buy and sell real estate, and we had a major deal get pushed back. He can coordinate with the lawyers and the bank to deal with it.”
I frowned and forgot my palm rested on his shirt. “Could that be why someone wants to get you out of the way? Someone you’ve screwed over in business?”
His gaze went far away and he straightened, then wandered over to the couch to kick off his shoes and flop onto the chaise. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“Well, how many people have you screwed over in business?” I hesitated just a bit before I followed and eased onto the other side of the couch so I could watch him. “If it’s half as many as all the wolves and witches and others you have, then—”
He tossed a pillow at my face and I barely ducked in time to avoid spilling my beer, but at least he was laughing. “Mind your manners, girl.”
I smiled to myself and slouched against the comfortable pillows, peering into the bottle. I couldn’t remember hearing him really laugh. It made me feel all warm inside and I wanted to hear it again, all the time.
Miles glanced over at me, still smiling, then held his hand out. “Feet.”
My eyebrows rose before I could come up with a response, staring at him blankly. “What?”
“Give me your feet.”
I warily swung my feet up onto the couch, still wearing my socks, and Miles hauled my legs into his lap so he could start squeezing my ankles and heels and up my calves a bit. I groaned and sank into the cushions after I put my beer on the coffee table. “You’re really good at that.”
“That’s not the only thing I’m good at,” he said, voice all husky.
I laughed in surprise and kicked at his leg despite the tidal wave of nervousness that ran through me. “What, being an asshole?”
He moved so fast I didn’t even see it coming and then he slid his hands up my sides and hit all the ticklish spots that set me shrieking and squirming and begging him to stop. But Miles just chuckled and kept it up, growling and grumbling at me, and then his fingers teased my bare skin.
By the time he stopped to let me breathe, my T-shirt had rucked up around my ribs and the jeans had dipped down a little and Miles lay over me on the couch. He nuzzled behind my ear and rested his palm against my side, keeping enough of his weight off me so that I could still breathe, and he murmured, “If you can get your attitude in line, I’d rather spend the afternoon making out like teenagers.”
“Oh, so my attitude is the problem?” I bit my lower lip so I wouldn’t laugh again, and tried to come up with something to do with my hands. It felt weird to touch him back or hold onto his side or just let my arms flop onto the couch.
“I’ll work on the attitude,” he said. Miles kissed my neck and my eyes closed as I tilted my chin back, giving him more room. The soft brush of his lips and the warm tickle of his tongue made me shiver from my core all the way to my toes. “Make you work for it, maybe. Or a spanking might be in order. Hard to say.”
That time I did laugh, breathless and squirming and thrilling at his touch, and didn’t know how to feel about being even more turned on by the thought of him spanking me. Even the smack he’d given me at my house made me tense and clench my thighs together. “You’re awfully confident.”
“You love it.” His nose bumped mine and our lips barely brushed together, so I craned my neck to try and kiss him for real. All of me felt flushed and warm, butterflies swarming in my stomach, and I squirmed underneath him until Miles groaned and caught my waist.
The hard muscle of his thigh pressing between mine gave me pause, since I didn’t want to get too far into the making out and have to make another embarrassing admission that I wasn’t ready. I was ready. I’d just panicked. There wasn’t any shame in it, but... it still made me feel like a ridiculous kid. He made me nervous because he felt like a force of nature, like I’d only be able to hold on while the whole world came apart around me. And the idea of not having control, of surrendering control or just the lead to anyone, even him... I shivered.
When I tensed, he paused, waiting, then murmured, “Just tell me if you want to stop.”
The gentleness in him and the care with which he handled me seemed like a complete departure from the rest of his personality, and yet I expected nothing less. His eyes warmed as he gazed at me, remaining still as he waited for me to think and decide. I leaned up so I could kiss the corner of his mouth, something I’d seen in a nature documentary once about how wolves communicated, and tentatively touched his back. “I don’t want to stop, but you might…might have to slow it down. Take your time.”
His smile spread and his eyes gleamed, and Miles kissed the line of my jaw with another throaty chuckle. “Oh, I can be patient. I like to take my time.”
Heat flushed all the way through me until I must have caught fire or ended up smoking from my ears, and I almost lost feeling in my hands where I touched him. Instead of throwing me over his shoulder and dragging me into the bedroom, Miles kept feathering soft kisses and teasing nips all over my shoulders and neck and jaw, and he squeezed my ass with a free hand. “But you have to tell me if I need to hit the brakes, Deirdre.”
My name in that tone of voice almost sent me over the edge. He said it like a promise, like a secret. Like something precious. Like I was precious. I managed to whisper, “Okay.”
“Okay.” He sat up and took me with him, then dragged me into
his lap so I straddled him. He squeezed my hips and encouraged me to rock against him and the hard bulge in his jeans, and concentrated on pulling my shirt off so he could study the bra I wore.
I flushed more and wanted to cover myself, since it felt pretty damn odd to be making out in the middle of the afternoon. Which just made me wonder... “What if someone comes in?”
“They won’t.” He never took his eyes off my breasts, and traced his finger under the band as his hips shifted under me.
I held onto his shoulders and settled closer. “But what if it’s dinner time and Mercy—”
“They won’t come in.” Miles glanced at me, his eyes twinkling just a bit. “Or is this your ploy to get into my bedroom?”
My cheeks burned. “No, I just—”
“I agree,” he murmured. He kissed the swell of my breast, his teeth dragging against my nipple through the bra until my back arched and my nails dug into his shoulders. “We need someplace more private.”
Before I could collect my thoughts, Miles had gotten up, swung me up in his arms, and even kicked the door shut behind us in his bedroom. At least the lights were still dim in there, so it didn’t feel like the afternoon, but that was the last thing I noticed that wasn’t Miles.
I almost expected him to toss me onto the bed and leap on top of me, despite his murmurs about being patient, but instead he laid me down and studied me as he stood at the foot of the bed. I shivered a bit and watched the pull and slide of muscles in his chest after he stripped off his shirt and reached for my foot. I jumped, then flushed in embarrassment, but Miles just chuckled and took off my socks. “Nervous, hmm?”