Slowly, he stroked his tongue over the naked folds of her sex. She cried out, a harsh, startled sound, her hands flying up to fist in his hair. Duncan hadn’t ever felt so aware—not of another woman, not of himself. His senses were sharply attuned to her, bracing for just the slightest sign of fear.
But all he could sense was hungry woman. He growled against her as she arched her hips up to his mouth. Using his fingers, he opened the honey-slicked folds of her sex and speared his tongue inside her. At the same time, he pressed his thumb against the firm little bud of her clit.
She sobbed as he changed position, lifting his mouth to suckle on her clit and pushing his two fingers inside her sheath. She was tight and wet, clenching around his fingers in a tight, convulsing grip.
He pushed her into one screaming climax before rising to his knees, his eyes searching out her face. Her skin was coated with a light sheen of sweat, her eyes wide and glassy. He could just barely make out the light flush that stained her skin, spreading upward from the hard-tipped curves of her breasts to her brow.
Damn it—Duncan was certain if he didn’t get inside her, completely inside her, he was going to go out of his mind. Lust was a burning hot demon that rode his back and threatened to choke him. His hands shook as he reached up and tore his shirt away. As it drifted to the floor, he stood up and kicked his shoes off, stripping his jeans away.
Naked, he moved to cover her, fisting one hand in her hair and staring down into her face.
“Last chance, Kennedy,” he whispered as he pressed against her. His cock nestled between her folds and he tortured himself by dragging his length back and forth.
She arched against him, her hands sliding up over his shoulders, the bite of her nails into his flesh urging him on.
Duncan shifted a little, using his knees to spread her thighs wider before he pressed against her, slowly pushing inside her. As the tight hot silk of her tissues sheathed the first inch of his cock, Duncan groaned, lowering his head to press his brow against hers. “Damn it, Kennedy…”
In that second, her body went stiff and the rapid cadence of her heartbeat became more erratic, her breath skipping. The scent of her body changed just a little as fear began to invade her body.
“Wait…” It was a soft, pitiful little plea and Duncan gritted his teeth, knowing this was going to kill him.
He started to pull away and she sobbed, her hands still clutching at his arms. “Shhh…it’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m not going to do anything else.”
But when he pulled away, she reached for him. Duncan caught her hands, lying down next to her. “It’s okay,” he whispered gruffly, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“It’s not,” she choked out. She was trembling, shudders wracking her entire body. “Damn it, I won’t let him do this…”
“Kennedy, it’s okay. I won’t—”
She moved against him and Duncan felt her hands pressing into his chest. He fell backward and she moved forward, straddling his thighs. “I won’t let him stop me,” she muttered, her eyes dark, determined.
As her hand closed over his cock, he felt his flesh jerk. “Shit,” he rasped, staring down and watching as she held him steady and slowly started to take him inside.
“I want this—you. I haven’t wanted anybody…ever…” Her voice trailed off and she moaned, the sound hitching in her chest.
Her eyes drifted closed as she worked her hips up and down, taking a little more of his length inside with each downward stroke. Duncan slid his hands up her thighs, cupping her hips in his hands. Everything inside him wanted to grab and throw her to her back, drive his length in deep and hard and fast. He wanted to mark her flesh, cover her with his scent…but instead he lay there.
She rode him slowly, the motions of her hips awkward. Duncan squeezed her flesh gently and slowly eased her into a smooth rhythm. “Bend down,” he whispered and as she did, he lifted his head and caught one swollen nipple in his mouth.
As he laved the nipple, she clenched around him. Involuntarily, Duncan arched up, driving his cock deep and hard as his hands clutched at her hips, holding her locked into him.
She cried out, but it wasn’t a panicked cry. Duncan moved to the other breast as he circled against her. Kennedy moaned and Duncan laid his head back on the bed, staring up at her as he lifted her weight a little and started to pump his hips upward, driving his length in and then withdrawing before he plunged deep inside her again.
Kennedy’s sex tightened around his cock. The scent of her body suddenly spiked, flooding the air. He felt the trembling in her limbs, the tightening of her sex and then her head fell back and she screamed. He stiffened underneath as she climaxed, pumping into her hard and fast as fire streaked down his spine and licked at his sac.
He exploded into her, groaning out her name. Reaching up, he caught a fist of her hair and jerked her down to him. He bit her lower lip but didn’t kiss her, instead pushing her hair aside and setting his teeth on the curve of her neck, biting down in the firm resilient flesh.
The taste of her flooded his system and Duncan moaned, letting go of her hair to slide his arms around her waist. She collapsed against his chest, her chest heaving raggedly with every breath.
Long moments passed as she lay cuddled against his chest, her breathing finally leveling out. Kennedy licked her lips, reveling in the salty taste that clung to her mouth. Him…she was tasting him. Tasting his flesh on her lips.
His hand stroked up and down her back, his heart beat slow and steady in her ear. It had been racing like freight train moments ago. She had done that.
Kennedy’s initiation to sex had been brutal and cruel. It had scarred her, kept her from getting close to any man that tried.
This man, whoever he was, hadn’t tried. He just did it.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
Her lips curled into a smile and she whispered, “Oh, yes.” She was more than okay. She lifted up, staring down at his face. Her eyes had adjusted a little and she could faintly make out the line of his jaw and when he smiled, she could see the white flash of his teeth.
As she moved, his flesh twitched inside her. He was still firm, but no longer so hard it almost bruised her flesh. She clenched around him, moaning a little. She licked her lips, squeezing her eyes tightly closed for a second.
There was something she wanted to ask him…
Finally, the question made sense in her head once again. Her cheeks flushed as she asked, “How did you know what happened to me?” She bit her lip the second she asked it, unsure of how he was going to answer. “How do you know me?”
He shifted, gently moving her off of him, but he didn’t leave. Instead he urged her down onto her side, rolling over so that he could spoon up behind her. His hand rested on her hip as he whispered, “I know what happens around here, Kennedy. And I know you—have for years.”
She tried to turn around and look towards him, but he tightened his grip on her hip and she pursed her lips in a sulk. “Are you ever going to let me know who you are?”
His soft laugh teased her skin and he murmured, “I think after tonight, I pretty much have to. Just…not yet.”
“Then when?”
He arched against her and she felt that dangerous heat start to shimmer through her. He was long and hard again, the steely length burning into her buttocks. “The next time I come over, maybe,” he whispered.
“Next time?” she repeated, her mind going dull, need swelling up and dimming everything else.
“Yes. Next time. And there will be a next time, and one after that…and after that…” He pressed his lips to her shoulder. “When I said it was almost too late, Kennedy…I wasn’t just talking about sex.”
He wasn’t there when Kennedy woke up. As she stretched, she felt aches in places she’d forgotten she even possessed. Smiling, she closed her eyes as she breathed in deep.
She could still smell him on the smooth cotton of her sheets, on her own skin.
Her sense of sme
ll seemed almost vividly clear and as she licked her lips, she realized she could still taste him on her mouth. She slid her hand down the empty space next to her, but the sheets were cool.
He’d been gone a while.
A slow smile curled her lips as she sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them. He would come back.
Again and again, he had whispered before he eased her onto her back and slowly pushed back inside her.
Some twenty minutes later, she finally stopped reveling in the memories and climbed from the bed. She started toward the bathroom, but stopped. No…she didn’t want to wash his scent away, not yet. Instead, she grabbed the shirt he had stripped away from her last night.
“This just might become my favorite shirt,” she said with a smile as she tugged it on and buttoned it up.
She padded from the room, heading for the kitchen. She was starving—after sleeping yesterday away, and last night…well, it had been a lot more energetic than she was used to. If she didn’t get something in her belly soon, she just might start chewing on the walls.
Fortunately, she still had eggs and bacon.
She had bacon simmering within minutes and the rich scent of it had her drooling. Unable to wait for it to be done, she popped a piece of bread in the toaster. The minute it popped out, she grabbed it and tore off a big bite, groaning with pleasure.
While she waited on the bacon, she poured herself a glass of juice and started whipping up eggs for an omelet.
Sunday—she glanced towards the clock, but dismissed the idea of trying to get ready for church. Not today. She’d have to shower.
And Kennedy still wasn’t ready to wash his scent away.
“You’d better get over that before you go back into work,” she mumbled, shaking her head, a little amazed.
But then she pressed her nose against her arm and breathed deep. Even through the clean scent of her cotton shirt, she could smell him. Warm, musky male.
Grinning, she leaned back against the counter and waited for her breakfast to finish cooking.
Chapter Six
Duncan lifted his beer in a salute as Zane mounted the stairs. He took another sip before gesturing to the front door. “More inside.”
Zane shook his head. “No, thanks. Not staying too long.” He leaned against the railing, studying Duncan with narrowed eyes. “You look like you had a good night.”
He couldn’t stop the smug grin that spread across his face. He was going back there tonight—and tonight, he’d keep the lights on. As he left her house this morning, the early light of predawn lighting the way as he ran home, he had realized what had happened last night.
Dad had told him how he had bonded with his mate the very first time he’d seen her. If she hadn’t died giving birth to Duncan’s younger brother twenty-five years ago, she would have grown old with his dad. Maybe his dad would even be alive…he might have retired earlier, and maybe he wouldn’t have been the one who faced down that feral.
No…it could have been me…Sighing, Duncan ran a hand over his face.
He missed his dad—but Duncan couldn’t deny that he was damned glad he hadn’t been the one taking the silver bullet in his chest. He would have missed finding Kennedy again.
When it happens, son, you’ll know…you’ll have your destiny right there in front of you and everything will make sense.
As always, Ryan Pride had been right. Duncan had Kennedy—she was mortal, she was still a little broken inside, but none of that mattered. Everything would be fine.
“You look pretty damn smug.”
Duncan looked up and saw the irritation written all over his old friend’s face, but he didn’t really care. “So what if I do?” he asked with an easy smile.
“Was this how you planned on solving the problem? By taking her as your mate?” Zane said, his voice flat.
Arching a brow, Duncan took another drink from his beer before he set the bottle down. He stood up then, slowly, and crossed the porch to stare into Zane’s eyes. “No. It’s not how I planned it—but that’s obviously how it was meant to be,” he told his lieutenant coldly. “And I’m fairly certain I don’t have to answer to you on how I choose to live my private life.”
Zane glared at him. “Damn it, son, your private life affects the lives of more than three hundred other people. Have you forgotten about the Pride?”
“No. I haven’t forgotten the Pride. I’ll never forget the Pride. I know who I am and what my responsibilities are. But…she is my mate, the one woman who was made just for me, just as I was made for her. That didn’t happen by accident or by any choice I’ve made. It happened because that’s how it was meant to happen.” Cocking his head, Duncan murmured, “You know, I expected this from Sam, but the way you acted, I thought you’d understand.”
“I had no fucking idea you were going to mate with her!” Zane growled. The green striations in his eyes began to glow, widening until the green glow had spread over the hazel. The fury exuding from him stained the air all around him. “She’s mortal.”
Duncan said quietly, “So was your wife.”
Zane stumbled back, the anger that flooded him draining away and leaving the man standing there, looking gray and gaunt.
But Duncan didn’t back down. “I will not have my life dictated by the beliefs or desires of others. My father made sure I understood my responsibilities, Zane, to the Pride and to myself.”
Turning away, he walked over to the chair and grabbed his beer from the floor. Glancing at Zane, he said quietly, “You are to speak of this with no one. I’ll tell the Pride—when I am ready.” He headed for the door only to freeze as Zane spoke once more.
“And how long will you hide it?” Zane asked sourly.
Narrowing his eyes, Duncan said, “I hide nothing. But when I tell the Pride, I bring my mate with me. Which means I need to explain things to her.” He reached to open the door, but before he stepped inside, he paused to cast one last look at Zane. “Remember what I said, Zane. You are not to speak of this.”
As the sun started to sink behind the horizon, Kennedy leaned her head back against the rim of the tub. The hot water felt unbelievably good.
Was he going to come tonight?
She didn’t know, but if he did, she wanted to be ready. She’d already shaved her legs, washed her hair, done a conditioning rinse. Now she was soaking in lavender-scented water. Kennedy had a weakness for bath oils. She loved how her skin felt, loved the smell that clung to her skin.
She glanced at the picture window over the bathtub, seeing complete dark had settled. This bathroom had been a gift from Cole to Lisa on their thirtieth anniversary. The sunken tub was centered right at the sill of the picture window and she could stare out into the lush garden that Lisa had worked so hard on.
A sad little smile curved her lips as she sat up and pulled the drain. As the water emptied out, she stepped from the tub and grabbed the robe she’d hung on the hook.
Lisa had loved her bathroom, said it made her feel like a queen. Cole had laughingly told her she was a queen. It had been one of the very few trips that Kennedy had come here for a visit, instead of them visiting her in Detroit.
She left the bathroom and padded out of the huge bedroom. She couldn’t sleep in there—in her mind, that room belonged to her parents, the only parents she’d ever really known. As she walked down the hall to her room, she tugged the towel from her hair.
After smoothing some gel through the heavy curls, she shrugged out of her robe and pulled on the pajamas she had left laying on her bed. They were silvery gray, the top a camisole with skinny straps, the pants with a loose drawstring. She tied the waist so that they hung a little lower on her hips and walked back into the bathroom to stare at her reflection.
Well, it wasn’t Hollywood glamorous, but Kennedy didn’t even own a slinky negligee so this would have to work. Besides, she’d feel incredibly stupid walking around the house in a teddy.
Tension had her muscles knotted and tight and she h
eaded for the kitchen. There was a bottle of wine in the fridge and she uncorked it, pouring a full glass. She left it on the counter—if he didn’t show up, she might need more just so she could relax enough to sleep.
Hearing a car coming toward the house, she smiled a little. A thrill of anticipation ran through her and she left the kitchen.
Or she could always use the wine drink herself into oblivion, she mused a moment later as she moved to stare out the living room window.
It was her mother.
In the past three months, she had seen Kelly Masters only three times.
And each time, Kelly had been ugly, nasty, and full of bitterness. Where is he…you chased him off…where is my husband…
In her gut, Kennedy knew that Kelly knew the truth. Knew that Jack was dead. And she also knew Kelly was aware of what Jack had done to his stepdaughter.
She’d denied it in the hospital, insisted Kennedy was lying even when the doctors told her there was indefinable proof that Kennedy been raped.
You little slut—I knew you were chasing after him.
Those voices still rang in her head and as she stared at her mother, Kennedy almost just slammed the door.
Instead, she tossed her hair back from her face and said coolly, “Hello, Kelly.”
This woman may have given birth to her, but the woman Kennedy considered her mom was buried.
Kelly laughed and it was an ugly, bitter sound. Years of smoking and drinking had made the woman’s throat hoarse and raspy. “Now that doesn’t sound like a girl happy to see her mama.”
A tight smile curled Kennedy’s mouth briefly as she responded, “My mama is dead. She died in a car wreck with her husband a few months ago. You…you’re nothing to me.”
Kelly sneered at Kennedy. “I gave you life!”
“And you also left me alone with a monster. You know what he did to me—hell, you might have known he was going to do it before it happened. And you didn’t care. Hell, you defended him. You blamed me!” Kennedy snarled. The fury surging through her veins was a long time coming, but it felt good. It felt…clean.
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