by Olivia Arran
“And what would you do next?” I murmured, all breath and heat.
“I’d press you into the hard wood and spread your legs wide.”
“Uh huh…” I was lost in the vision he was conjuring, my core throbbing with every weighted word.
“I’d kneel behind you, admiring the view of your juicy pink lips, and your hard, swollen clit.” He sucked in a breath, his eyes closing as he let out a low groan. “So wet, so sweet. Waiting for my attention. Are you wet now?” He scented the air, his mouth curling up in a smug smile. Pulling me closer, he rocked up into me, his shaft hardening under my ass and digging in. “Would you want me to lick you there? Lick your sweet pussy until you scream? Or slide a finger in your tight hole, fucking you until you’re begging for my cock?”
I gasped as he ground into me, my core pulsing as though answering his call.
“Or would you want me to bend you over, pin you to the table and slide my thick shaft straight in there, driving it deep inside your pussy, again—” he rocked against me, “—and again—” he murmured, dragging my head down to his, his mouth hovering over mine as he breathed his words, “—and again?”
“Yes…” He captured my moan with his lips, his tongue licking out and tangling with mine, his hips thrusting up on a groan that hummed through me. Hands dragged my leg over his, fingers digging into my buttocks as he kissed me, dragging his lips away a fraction to murmur his next instructions. “Hands on the chair, sweetheart.”
It was as if cold water had been poured over me, his reminder that I wasn’t allowed to touch him throwing me straight out of whatever game he was playing and back into reality.
I pushed away, my chest heaving and thighs trembling from the strain of denying the instinct to mate. To let my mate take me, to satisfy the unrelenting ache that had started the second I’d laid eyes on him.
He stilled, his eyelids heavy with lust and lips swollen from our kiss. Pretty much what I knew I must look like, except I’d have the pinked skin from the rough stubble on his chin.
We stared at each other, each searching for answers.
“Sorry, but as much as I like to listen to you guys make out, could we maybe save it for the bedroom and get on with planning the rest of my life?” Jimmy’s voice called through the door, sounding decidedly not sorry.
“I’m going to kill him.” Greg didn’t sound like he was joking.
“You can’t; she likes me too much, and you like her.”
Jimmy had a point.
“Kid,” Greg called, waiting for Jimmy to open the door a crack. “I’d bet my last dollar she likes me a hell of a lot more than she likes you.” At my scowl, he sniffed the air, sending blood thundering to my cheeks.
“Right now, I don’t like you much at all.”
“You wish you didn’t, but your body tells me differently, sweetheart,” was his cocky reply, accompanied by a wink.
“Ah, geez. Can you two give it up for just one minute?” Jimmy dragged a hand over his face, stomping into the kitchen. Pinching his nose, he walked over to the window and shoved it open. “We need to get on with this. I have a life, you know?”
“Doing what? Whining?” Greg muttered under his breath, appearing relaxed and at ease, but his hands were still molded to my ass, not letting me go. “You two go back to Blacktooth pack. When I turn up an hour or so later, you pretend you don’t know me. We’ll take it from there.”
Jimmy sucked in a deep breath of the crisp, night air, then ducked his head back inside. “That’s it? No master plan?”
“Kid, this is what I do. Trust me when I say I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Greg snapped back, his jaw set in a firm line and eyes resolute. “Just don’t go drinking or eating anything until I get there, think you can manage that?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
At Jimmy’s nod, I made a second attempt to extract myself from Greg’s lap, but his hands held me firm.
Giving Jimmy a look that clearly said fuck off, he waited until the door swung shut before turning to me. “I know I’m all kinds of fucked up—and I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to change that—but when we’ve sorted this shit out, we’ll talk. I’ll try.”
I stilled, knowing that for him to even offer… “Okay.”
His grip tightened, pulling me closer until my breasts brushed against his hard pecs. “Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks?”
“Ummm…”
“Sweetheart?” It was a growl of warning, promising punishment if I disobeyed, sending a ripple of desire coursing through me.
“Okay.”
“I’ll be watching.”
“Aren’t you always?” I quipped back, earning a grin and a self satisfied chuckle.
“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Greg
Five hours later I was sitting doing what I did best, waiting.
Dropping Scarlet and Jimmy off at the end of the dirt track road was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, and I’d done a lot of hard things in my life. Refusing to let my mind dwell on things, I dragged it back on track, activating the small speaker I’d attached to Scarlett’s watch under the pretense of synchronizing our time pieces.
Her voice filled the cab—Cole’s monster of a truck, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t mind me borrowing it, so long as I didn’t put a single scratch on his baby. She was blathering on about this and that, filling the silence with a nervousness you’d have to be deaf to miss.
I should have risked a two way. But I hadn’t wanted to, incase Tomas caught sight of the little earbud.
“Calm down, Scar.” Jimmy plucked the words right out of my head, and I heard the rustle of clothing, previous experience telling me he was patting her arm. Or hugging her. He’d better not be feeling her up. My fingers dug into the soft leather, claws punching through to the foam. Yup, Cole was going to kill me. Whatever.
“Does your father really suspect?” she replied, a nervous trill to her voice.
A deep sigh, then, “You know he does. He’s been acting weirder than usual lately.”
“Then, what—”
“Like your lover boy back there said, we front it out. Make sure he doesn’t catch either of us alone.”
Lover boy? So unoriginal, it was funny.
“Easier said than done.”
Their footsteps stopped, the wind dropping. “Hey, it’ll be okay. Do you really think Mr. Fantastic is going to let anything happen to you?”
A burst of laughter, then, “You’re really pushing it, Jimmy.”
“He can’t kill me from back there.”
I snorted, the sound strange in the silence. Wanna bet?
“You know I’m right. You’re probably the safest woman alive, right about now.”
“I know.” She sounded more wistful than thrilled.
“Is there something I should know? Are you not interested, do you need me to say something? Do something? I’m not scared of him.”
You should be. But I held my breath, waiting for her reply.
“No! Geez, no. You might be a badass, Jimmy, but Greg’s in a league of his own, believe me—”
My chest puffed out just a fraction.
“—We’ve got some issues to work through, that’s all.”
“So, it’s not a done deal then?”
Is that hope I hear in his voice? This time my growl was deafening, almost drowning out her answer.
“I don’t know. I hope so, but he has this thing… I can’t really talk about it with you.”
“Who the hell are you going to talk to? It’s me, Scar, your friend. Let me in.”
I was going to kill the little pipsqueak. Back molars grinding, I opened the cab door, sliding down to the ground. They’d had enough of a head start, and Jimmy was getting a little too inquisitive for his own good.
“No. It’s between me and Greg, but thanks, Jimbo.”
Jimbo? Almost choking, my chuckle coming out on a splutter of laug
hter. I rubbed at my chest, a funny tightness sitting on my sternum. It didn’t budge. It was because of her. She’d put me—us—before her friend.
I set off down the road, my eyes searching the dim light for any sign of a threat, the thrill of not being the one left behind for once putting a spring in my step.
This was going to be fun.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scarlett
No one stopped us as we walked into the main clearing, which was hardly surprising, given it was still early to be up and about. Shutters were pulled tight, doors that usually stood open inviting conversation, were shut. Gravel crunched beneath our shoes as we walked down the main track, toward the main house.
Jimmy’s house. Or, more specifically, Tomas’ house. We passed my home to the right, and I fancied I could see the pale lavender of my curtains through the thin slats of wood. The dim nightlight glowing soft, pushing away shadowed nightmares from daring to enter while I slept. Downstairs would be Mom and Papa, cooking together and chatting about their days before going off to work. Papa would pull Mom in for a snuggle, her protests weak and practiced as she surrendered into his embrace. Their noses would touch, eyes would meet, a million words sent soundlessly through their mating bond.
The large house loomed ahead, grander than the others, as befitting the alpha of the pack. But really, it was just a farmhouse, nothing special. Since Tomas’ mate had died, he’d opened the house to all, and most bachelors lived in the many rooms, their raucous laughter and hoots and hollers livening up a house whose soul had died along with it’s mistress.
That’s where the gatherings were held, the pack parties and celebrations, in the huge main room. Though after staying at Greg’s house—sorry, mansion—I was beginning to reconsider the meaning of huge. In more ways than one.
“What’s so funny?”
I swallowed back my giggle; Jimmy wouldn’t appreciate my humor. “Nothing. Just nervous.”
“He’s not going to do anything, not in front of witnesses.”
“I know.”
His hand grazed mine. I glanced down, then up at his face. He wasn’t looking at me. Accidental, surely. Though we’d held hands many a time before—as friends.
Another few steps. His fingers twisted into mine.
I tugged my arm away. “What are you doing?” I hissed out under my breath.
“My father might be a little more welcoming if we can convince him—”
“No.” The refusal shot out of my mouth, I didn’t even have to think about it. It felt wrong. A betrayal. My skin had actually crawled when he’d touched me. Did this mean no other man would do, but Greg? The thought had me stumbling over nothing, the toes of my shoes kicking up dirt.
“Steady there, Scar.” Jimmy’s hand closed around my shoulders, setting me straight.
I shook him off, not wanting his help. I was pissed, and he was an easy target.
“Okay,” he muttered under his breath, shooting me a look that clearly said I was crazy.
“Let’s get this over with.” Marching up the steps, I went to knock on the door.
Jimmy shouldered me aside, a glower on his face. “I live here, remember?” Rocking back on his heels, his face softened. “I know this is scary and hard, Scar, but we’re going to get through this, then you can go back to your real mate.” No sarcastic names, no showmanship, just plain, old-fashioned honesty.
“He’s not my mate.”
“Semantics. He will be. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”
“Then why the hell are you screwing with my head?”
“Because I’m an idiot. You’re not the one for me, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing that you were.”
I blinked at his confession, trying to see my old friend’s face in any other light than the one I’d mercilessly teased as a kid. Nope. It wasn’t happening. “Why?”
“Because then I wouldn’t have to wait to find love. You’re one of my best friends, it would have been … cool.” Tiredness haunted his eyes, something someone so young shouldn’t have any knowledge of. Five years my junior, he had the rest of his life ahead of him to find love.
“Jimmy—”
“Don’t, Scar. Just … you don’t know what it’s like, knowing you’re going to be the next alpha, having all that responsibility weighing over you all the damn time.”
This time it was me that reached out, squeezing his shoulder. I blinked in surprise at the bulk of muscle under my hand, having to reach up further than I remembered to offer comfort. He’d grown up … and I hadn’t noticed. “I’m here, when you want to talk.”
Straightening up, he shrugged, the easygoing smile fixed firmly back in place. “Same goes, Scare Bear.”
“Jimbo.”
His smirk widened at my use of his childhood nickname. “What shall we call your man?” Without waiting for my answer he pushed open the door, leading me into the house as he threw out some options. “Scare Bear’s taken, though it would have suited. How about … Asswipe, or Butthole, or The-man-of-many-grunts?” He stopped suddenly, a grin breaking out over his face. Snapping his fingers, he continued, “I’ve got it! Mr. Eyebrow!”
I screwed my face up, trying not to laugh—it would only encourage him. “I was thinking more along the lines of Mr. Hot-Stuff, or Mr. Sexy-Pants … or Mr. Talented.” I wriggled my eyebrows.
He pulled a face back at me, his eyes nearly crossing as he pretended to gag.
“Very mature,” I muttered, smacking him on the shoulder. At least the air had cleared, our relationship going back to normal. Following him into the kitchen, I greeted the few guys who’d ventured out of bed this early, obviously fueling up and getting ready to go to work on the mountain. Hunched over their plates of food, coffee cups gripped in their free hands, they were more about the shoveling than niceties, sending grunts our way as we helped ourselves to what was left in the coffee pot.
“Are you hungry?” Jimmy indicated the pans on the stove.
Peering into one, I plastered on a polite smile, shaking my head.
Following my eyes, he grimaced. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. The guys take turns in cooking ever since the pack cook upped and left.”
“Why’d she leave?”
A chair scraped back, the legs grinding against the stone floor and setting my teeth on edge.
“Because we were too much for her to handle.” The man who’d spoken flashed me a smile, barely visible for the stubble that was edging the line toward beard territory. So, basically, he flashed white teeth at me.
“Rocky, Rocky,” tutted Jimmy, doing a good impression of a mother hen. “What you’re really saying is that you guys hit on her one too many times.”
Rocky’s smile grew even wider, something I hadn’t thought possible. “I wouldn’t exactly use the word hit, I, for one, was very gentle.”
Raucous laughter met his declaration, along with a few good-natured punches thrown his way. Taking it in his stride, he eyed the two of us, brow furrowing. “You seen your Pa yet?”
“No.” Jimmy glanced at the wall, as if he could see through to the stairs behind. “Is he around?”
“Sure. Could hear his snores rattling the walls this morning.”
Tension throbbed at the base of my neck, traveling the length of my jaw.
“It’ll be fine, Scar, don’t worry.”
“Exactly what will be fine, son?” At Tomas’s low voice, we turned as one to face him, my shoulder brushing Jimmy’s back as he edged a touch in front of me. “Excellent, you’ve brought her home. Good work, son.”
Jimmy’s hand closed around my wrist.
When Greg held me there, it felt right. Deliciously naughty. Frustrating at times. Confusing? Sure, sometimes. But it always felt right. Not like this.
Resisting the urge to pull away, I scanned Jimmy’s face.
Blank. He wasn’t looking at me, no, his whole attention was locked on his father.
Then, he smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Three
<
br /> Scarlett
My stomach flipped as his grip tightened on my wrist, resisting my tug to break free.
Tomas continued, ignoring me, “We’ll make an alpha out of you yet!” Slapping Jimmy on the shoulder, he strolled into the kitchen and poked at the vast pan on the stove. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he smoothed back his blond hair with one hand, jabbing a finger at the coffee jug. “I take it black.” Sinking into a chair, he flicked open a newspaper, thumbing through the sections with a disregard that would have my Papa clenching his fists.
He seemed to be under the impression that someone would drop everything to service his needs.
“Scarlett…”
My eyes widened as I read the silent request in Jimmy’s eyes. Oh. He means me! My immediate reaction was to tell the guy to fuck off, but Jimmy’s near imperceptible shake of his head had me gritting my teeth. Making my way over to the coffee pot—the one he’d been standing right next to when issuing his order—I sloshed it into a mug and slammed it down on the table in front of him.
Brown eyes met mine, narrowing when I tossed him a sunny smile. See how you like that! Sauntering back over to Jimmy, I caught Rocky’s smirk of approval, though he was careful to keep his face turned from the grumpy alpha.
Clearing my throat, I edged away from Jimmy, in case he had the bright idea to try and restrain me again. “I think I’ll go see my parents—”
“Not thinking about leaving us again, are you, Scarlett?” Tomas glanced at me over the paper, his voice relaxed as though we were discussing the weather, but underneath lay a rod of steel. Turning the page, he let out a low whistle, rocking back in his chair. “You wouldn’t want to miss your mating celebration, would you?”
“She’ll be there.”
I resisted looking at Jimmy, instead keeping my attention on the alpha. His mouth twitched, as though sharing a private joke, then lifted in an approximation of a smile. “Good. Your parents would be very upset if you missed it.”