by Renee Rose
Finally, in the interest of rescuing Nash, who’s done more than any normal parent would ever do, I intercede. “Okay, baby, let’s give Nash a rest.”
“No!” Nolan cries, kicking his legs. “Higher!”
Nash catches Nolan around the waist and jogs forward with the swing to bring him to a stop. “You heard your momma.” His voice is more cajoling than scolding and something catches in my chest. It’s that longing again.
A mate who backs me up as a parent.
Nash shoves his hands in his pockets, stealing a glance at me.
He wants more. Of course he does.
Can I? Should I?
“I’m hungry,” Nolan announces.
I pull some goldfish crackers out of my purse, and Nolan takes them.
“Well... thanks for inviting me,” Nash says. “I should get going.”
I’m surprised he’s making this easy for me. He’s leaving it open to end the playdate with our son and walk away.
But it feels wrong. Every cell in my body wants to be closer to Nash right now. To get up and personal with him. Invite him home. Take his clothes off. Blow his mind with my mouth on his cock, just to thank him for being so cool with Nolan.
But I know one thing. A dominant lion like Nash doesn’t back down easily. So if he’s giving me this window of opportunity, I need to take it.
“Yeah, it was nice,” I manage to say as I scoop Nolan up to carry on my hip.
Something akin to pain ripples over Nash’s face, but then it’s gone again, before I can guess what it’s about.
“Um, will I see you—”
“You will.” The utter assurance in his voice sends a shiver up my spine. I sense a promise or a vow under his words, but I can’t decipher it. He’s planning something.
Which should cause me worry, but that’s not the emotion skittering through my body.
No. It’s excitement.
Nash hasn’t stopped coming for me.
And he probably won’t.
Ever.
And my lioness is purring over it.
6
Nash
Sunrise over Temecula is beautiful. So different than San Diego, where the fog tucks in around the coast. I watch it light up the golden hill where I slept behind Denali’s place, casting pink rays against her little cottage and the vineyards below.
Her older neighbor comes out on her porch with her coffee and I go still, so I won’t attract any attention.
My body aches from spending the night on the hard ground without any blankets, but the satisfaction of having watched over my mate and cub trumps all else. I don’t care if I have to spend the rest of my life sleeping on rocks, if it keeps them safe, I’ll do it.
I look back down the hill. Denali’s neighbor has moved inside. I stand up and stretch, then creep a little closer to the cottage. I have to admit, I’m hoping for a glimpse of Denali or Nolan. I may be keeping a respectful distance, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still drawn like a magnet to them. I want to know everything about them—their daily routines, what they eat for breakfast, what television shows they watch.
Movement catches my eye and I see the neighbor’s back on the porch, holding a shotgun. She fires before I can even think.
It’s a warning shot. At least I hope it is. It ricochets off a rock nearby and sends me charging down the hill. “Hey!” I shout at the same time she yells, “Hold it right there.”
I force myself to slow my pace from a run to a brisk stride as I continue to advance. No one shoots a gun off near my family. Not even sixty-year-old ladies wearing flower print gardening smocks.
Denali flies out of her cottage and I snarl at seeing her out, unprotected. My mate requires no protection, though. She takes in her neighbor, then whips around to see me.
Surprisingly, my lion doesn’t want to bleed her. I don’t feel that familiar violence rising up in me. Only the need to protect. Which in this case, requires me to be calm. “Put the gun down,” I order in my best alpha voice. Turns out, it doesn’t matter, because Denali has already sprinted to her neighbor’s and snatched the gun from her hands. I half expect her to turn it on me and cock it, but she empties the barrel before hurling the shotgun into the flowerbed.
When she turns to face me, her eyes are lion-bright and she’s breathing hard.
And damn. She’s wearing the thinnest t-shirt imaginable and those tiny shorts that make her legs look six miles long. She puts her hands on her hips. “What in the hell is going on?”
“Is this him?” the older woman demands as I stride up. Even though the gun’s out of her hands, she still looks prepared to murder me if she has to.
I would take offense, except Denali appears baffled. “Who?”
“The one you been hidin’ from. Is this the boy’s father?”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, but Denali’s response doesn’t fit. She splutters, “No! Well—it’s complicated. But regardless, why were you shooting at him?”
“I saw him sneaking around your place. Looks like he’s been there all night.” She turns her narrowed gaze on me. Her eyes are flinty grey to match the steel of her personality. “Were you there all night?”
I nod. No sense in lying. I direct my gaze at Denali. “I can’t leave you unprotected.”
Denali’s gaze warms, but she steps forward and slaps my chest. “Stupid male. You scared the crap out of me and Mrs. Davenfield. And what? You just slept out on the hill? Under the open sky?”
I can’t stop the lazy grin. “Stars were beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as you in those little—”
She cuts me off with another slap to my chest. “All right, Romeo. Let’s get you inside and fed.” She steers me off her neighbor’s wooden porch. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Davenfield. Nothing to worry about. Nash is safe. He’s just worried about someone else showing up and hassling me.”
“And I’m worried about crazy neighbors with shotguns,” I mutter under my breath as we walk away.
“You should be,” Mrs. Davenfield calls to my back. Apparently, her hearing is as sharp as her eyesight. “Sneaking around people’s property at five in the morning is a shootable offense around here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am.”
“Looks like you’re the type who knows how to handle a gun, himself.”
I turn to get a better look at Mrs. Davenfield, grateful Denali has her as a watchful neighbor. Not much gets past this woman.
Denali loops her hand through my elbow and tugs me forward. “Come on, Nash. I’ll make you breakfast. You like Canadian bacon?”
My stomach grumbles. “Love it.” I’m surprised at how intense a pleasure it is to have Denali offer to cook for me. I’m suddenly hard as a rock and wondering if Nolan is still in bed.
The minute we’re inside her door, I snake an arm around her waist and pull her back up against my straining cock. My teeth graze her shoulder. “Promise me something,” I rumble in her ear.
Her sweet cinnamon scent fills the air. “What?” Her voice is husky.
I slip my hand between her legs and cup her mons. “Don’t ever go outside your house dressed like this again.”
“Or what?” There’s a taunt in her voice and it sends my desire into overdrive.
I slide one hand up to squeeze her breast while I stroke my fingers over the seam of her shorts, pressing it into her slit.
“I’ll have to kill any male who looks at you, for one thing.”
Her head falls back on my chest and she rocks her hips forward, pushing into my hand.
“And then I’d have to punish you for making me crazy with jealousy.”
She brings her hand to cover mine, directing my fingers to push harder over her clit. “Oh yeah?”
Damn. The husk in her voice nearly blinds me with lust. But Nolan must be sleeping just a few feet away.
“Let’s get in the shower,” Denali suggests. Smart female. The sound of the water will drown out her cries.
I propel her forwa
rd, not removing my hands from her beautiful body. We jostle into the bathroom and strip our clothes off in record time. She turns to get in and I smack her ass with a loud crack.
“Shh.” She tosses a smile over her shoulder as she climbs in and everything in me lights up.
It’s not just passion—although there’s a mountain of that. I’m also filled with an exuberance, God, maybe even joy. Everything about this moment with Denali fills me up. Sets me free.
It’s like my whole life, I’ve been waiting for this point in time, when I get to laugh and play with my mate. Fuck her senseless. Eat breakfast with her afterward.
I can’t believe the intense pleasure of it.
I step into the shower after her, rolling a condom on my erection. I want to take my time. Soap her, wash her hair.
But it’s an impossibility.
I flatten her against the wall, and my hands cup her ass. Water soaks us, streams down her face, wetting her eyelashes and lips. Even with it, her scent fills the room, sending me into animal drive.
My kiss is hard and demanding. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, teeth bump teeth.
Her legs lift to hook around my waist and my cock is right where I want it to be. I don’t even have to use my hand to guide it in. I find her entrance and push forward, filling her with a powerful thrust.
She gasps and clutches my shoulders.
“Are you okay, beautiful?”
“Uhn.” She rubs her tits against my torso, the hard points of her nipples dragging through my chest hair. Her hips snap against mine, urging me deeper.
“You want more, baby?”
“I want it, Nash,” she breathes in my ear.
I lose all control then, helplessly pumping into her. She rocks to meet my thrusts, taking me deeper, meeting and matching my rhythm.
“Nash.”
Every time I hear my name on her lips, I go wilder. A growl starts up in my chest.
She slaps her hand over my mouth to stop it from coming out, all the while riding my cock, her beautiful tits bouncing and swaying.
I slip one hand between her ass cheeks to press against her back hole and she makes a desperate sound. Her arms tangle around my neck, and she uses them to leverage herself faster, taking me even deeper.
I massage her anus as I plow into her and she comes, her head thrown back, mouth open on a silent scream.
The squeeze of her muscles around my cock sends me hurtling to my own finish. I fuck her hard and fast, the slap of our wet bodies echoing against the tile until I, too, reach climax and come.
The satisfaction is cellular. My entire body flushes with it and yet, as I ease out, it’s still not enough.
I want to claim her again.
And again.
But I can’t right now. I settle for kissing her wet, open mouth. “I would sleep a thousand nights on your rocky hill if it meant this was my reward every morning.”
She ducks her head, blushing and steps out of the shower. I feel her loss acutely, but I take a moment to do a quick soap lather and rinse before I turn off the water and get out.
When I come out, she has a towel wrapped around her and her hands on her hips. “You can’t sleep out on that hill, Nash.”
My jaw sets. “I’m watching over you.” I say it with finality. Nothing will budge me from this. She’s my mate. She has a cub. They are mine to protect until the end of my days.
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head before she leaves the bathroom, but I have a feeling she knows she can’t change my mind.
I pull on my clothes and step out at the same time she exits her bedroom wearing a short, flowered dress.
I growl my approval, earning an upward tilt of her lips.
She heads to the kitchen and starts pulling out food. “You make the coffee, I’ll make the food.”
I nod and get to work, all the while admiring her ease in the kitchen. Thank fuck she’s a shifter. She knows how much I eat. She opens two packages of Canadian bacon and fries the slabs of meat up at the same time she whisks together pancake mix and sets the table.
“Good morning, bud,” Denali chirps when Nolan appears in the kitchen.
He scoots behind his mother’s leg, playing shy while watching me. I long to tousle his curls and tickle the shyness right out of him, but I don’t want to overstep.
“Nash came over for breakfast. Want to help me make his pancakes?”
The little boy nods and she pulls a stepstool over to the stove. Nolan climbs up on it to supervise. She gives him blueberries to drop into the pancake batter, helping him make a smiley face. I watch the two of them together, contentment coursing through my veins.
I could watch this for the rest of my life. Except I’d like to give Denali more cubs. A whole den of them.
I shake those aberrant thoughts out of my head. This picture of domesticity is doing something strange to me. I need to remember I don’t belong here. My lion’s a killer and he’s not happy unless he’s fighting. A shifter like that has no business being around children.
“How long is he staying, momma?” Nolan asks.
She darts a glance at me and clears her throat. “Um, just for breakfast, honey. He was just checking in on us to make sure we’re safe, but now he knows we are.”
A shard of glass pierces my chest and lodges right in my heart.
But I already knew not to get comfortable here.
I definitely don’t belong with them.
Denali
I have a smile on my face as I put away laundry that afternoon. I think it’s been there all day. Even Nolan notices. “You’re fun, momma,” he said after I spun him around for the fifteenth time. “I like when you’re happy.”
I don’t even want to think about what’s made me so cheerful.
Morning sex with a lion?
Check.
Being watched over by a vigilant soldier who doesn’t give a damn about his personal comfort?
Double-check.
Knowing he’ll probably be there again tonight?
Yeah, triple check.
I can’t let him sleep out on the hill again.
So what am I going to do? Let him in? Invite him to stay?
The thought sends my heart skittering into overdrive. But what will I tell Nolan? How long before he gets attached?
I find it fascinating that once again, my animal instincts didn’t alert me to his presence. A shifter creeping around outside my cottage and I slept like a baby. In fact, I think I rested better last night than I have in years. It’s like my lioness knew he was on watch and I could finally let my guard down.
I let Nolan fill the loneliness that ate at me after I escaped Data-X. I made myself believe I didn’t want or need anyone else. But I do.
My phone rings. I check the screen. Mrs. Davenfield. My landlady and nosy neighbor. I sigh. She probably wants to talk about why Nash was hanging around this morning.
“Hi, Mrs. Davenfield.”
“He’s out front.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nolan’s dad. Sitting in a car watching the house.”
I curse, but there’s no upset behind it. In fact, I think my smile’s grown bigger. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”
“Want me to call the cops?”
“No, no. Definitely not. He’s not a danger. And Mrs. Davenfield?”
“What is it, hon?”
I peek into the living room where Nolan is watching his favorite show, Curious George, on the television and lower my voice. “Um, don’t say that in front of Nolan, ‘kay? He doesn’t know.”
“O-kaaay.” She drags out the last syllable like she’s hoping I’ll elaborate, but I ignore it.
“Thanks,” I say and hang up before she can ask any questions.
I head outside, an extra swing to my hips as I stride over to Nash’s beat-up Mustang. The windows are down, and his lids drop to half-mast as he watches me.
I lean into his window, catching his chin when his gaze drops to my cleavage. “Still
keeping an eye on my place?” There’s a purr in my voice. A seductive quality I don’t even recognize. I never knew I had a temptress in me.
Nash flashes that wicked grin. The one he wore before he spanked me yesterday. My pussy clenches. “Right now, I’m keeping my eye on you,” he drawls.
“Mm hmm. Like what you see?”
“You know I do.”
“Well, you might as well come in. I can’t have you sitting out here in your car or Mrs. Davenfield will get her shotgun again.”
“Yes, she’s had her eye on me. I have to say, I don’t mind you having a protective neighbor.”
My chest squeezes. He genuinely cares about keeping us safe. As a mate should. Nolan must’ve followed me out, because he races toward us now, barreling into my leg and holding it.
“Can you say hi to Nash?” I prompt.
Nash puts out his fist.
Nolan looks at it, confused.
“Fist bump? Put your hand out.” Nolan complies, and Nash gently touches large knuckles to Nolan’s, then taps the top of his fist with his.
Nolan grins and punches Nash’s fist as hard as he can.
“Nolan!” I’m shocked to see my sweet little boy acting aggressive, but Nash loves it.
“Oh you want to tussle?” He scoops our shrieking son up and tickles him.
My chest fills with gooey warmth.
The moment he puts him down, Nolan yells, “More!” and they keep at it while I head to the kitchen to grab us all a glass of fresh squeezed lemonade with basil in it.
Nash
The sound of Nolan’s laughter does something peculiar to my heart—makes it contract and expand at the same time.
I toss and tickle him until he collapses on the floor, half-moaning, half-laughing.
“Okay,” Denali soothes. “Who wants some lemonade?”
“I do, I do!” Nolan yells, racing forward to take his plastic cup with a lid and straw.
Denali hands me a glass filled with ice and a clear liquid with green herbs floating in it. I take a sip and savor the zing of lemon and some other taste.
“Mmm—what is this?”
“It’s my version of lemonade. I don’t like Nolan to have too much sugar, so I make it with fresh lemons, stevia, and a little basil.”