Seducing the Moon

by Sherrill Quinn

  She’d just opened her mouth to start telling Sully a joke when the front door opened, and the man she was trying so hard to not think about walked in.

  Sully got to his feet. “Is this one of your other guests?” he asked with a glance down at her. “Neal, was it? Or is it Andrew?” He looked at Declan and held out his hand in greeting. “Sullivan O’Rourke.”

  A scowl crossed Declan’s face though he shook Sully’s hand civilly enough. “Declan O’Connell.”

  “Oh, not Neal.”

  “No. Not Neal.”

  “Or Andrew either.” Sully’s lips pressed together as if he were fighting a grin.

  “Not Andrew, either.” Declan’s brows drew down even farther as he looked at Pelicia. “Who the hell are Neal and Andrew?”

  “My other guests,” she said slowly, exaggerating her enunciation. Sully had just asked if Declan was one of her other guests. Declan wasn’t obtuse—but he was certainly acting that way. What was his problem? She turned toward Sully with a polite smile, though she was beginning to seethe at Declan’s gruffness. Her smile turned to a grimace at Sully’s raised eyebrows over Declan’s rude behavior. “Declan’s an old…acquaintance of mine.”

  She glanced at Declan in time to see his eyes flare with irritation. “I need to talk to you,” he muttered. He turned and walked away, heading down the hallway toward the kitchen, his booted heels clomping on the hardwood floor.

  Pelicia watched him go, hard pressed not to admire the taut curve of his ass and strong lines of his back. Determined to stand her ground, she stayed where she was. Just because he barked a command didn’t mean she had to obey.

  She caught the look Sully sent her way and shrugged. “Sorry about that,” she said. “He’s not housebroken. I usually just ignore him and eventually he goes away.” Although she had a feeling he wasn’t going to go away any time soon.

  Sully grinned. “No need to apologize for him, love. It’s not a reflection on your manners.”

  She nodded. Then, partly because she really did need to finish her chores and partly because she wasn’t going to let Declan order her around—and she knew he’d be right back out here as soon as he realized she wasn’t following him like a lemming rushing over the edge of a cliff—she stood. “I do have a few more things to take care of upstairs.” She smiled. “But I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.”

  “Me, too.”

  She gave him a slight nod and left the room. She went upstairs, out of habit skipping the third step that squeaked, and fetched towels from the linen cupboard to place in each of the guest bathrooms. She refreshed the potpourri she had in small bowls on the backs of the toilets, the fresh scent of lavender tickling her nostrils, then went to her room and closed the door behind her.

  Pelicia walked over to the window and stood there, staring out at nothing in particular, and tried not to think. But her mind kept rolling in circles, images of her and Declan together—laughing over a silly movie, strolling around Piccadilly Circus hand-in-hand, alone in her flat with their legs tangled on cool sheets….

  She clenched her fists and tried to direct her mind elsewhere. The very last thing she wanted to do was think about Declan and what she’d lost when he’d betrayed her trust. Especially since he wanted to talk to her and didn’t seem in all that good of a mood.

  And him being cantankerous usually brought out her own irritation. Even as she thought that, she realized by not following him into the kitchen she was egging him on, precipitating a fight.

  Bring it on.

  Her bedroom door opened and without turning she knew it was Declan. Even as she wondered what had taken him so long to follow her upstairs, she asked, “What do you want?” Her tone was unwelcoming, and she didn’t give a flying fig how he took it.

  “I told you I wanted to talk to you.” There was little inflection in his low tones, though she caught a note of annoyance.

  She heard the quiet snick of the door closing. She also thought she heard him sniffing, like he had the beginnings of a cold, but when she glanced over her shoulder he stopped doing it. She turned back to the window and crossed her arms, clasping her hands around her elbows.

  He moved closer, stopping just behind her. “Why’d you run?” His voice was still quiet.

  Pelicia whipped around to face him. “I didn’t run.” As a matter of fact, she had walked. Rather quickly, but it had been a walk nonetheless. “I…have work to do. A bed and breakfast to run.” She forced a shrug, trying to appear more at ease than her twisting insides allowed. “Besides, I don’t have to jump just because you tell me to, O’Connell.”

  Declan closed his eyes. With a sigh, he dipped his head and scrubbed the back of his neck with one big hand. Lifting his head, he stared down at her. Pain swirled deep in his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you, Pel. If you won’t believe anythin’ else, please believe that.”

  For the first time since she’d known him, he wasn’t hiding behind his boyish charm. His sincerity was unmistakable. But…“It doesn’t change anything, Declan.”

  He clasped her shoulders. “You’re right. I can’t go back and change what happened.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. “To be honest, I don’t know that I’d change much if I could—your grandfather was guilty, Pel.” She tried to jerk away from him. His fingers tightened briefly.

  “And he’s paying his debt to society.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve forgiven him and put that behind me.”

  “Have you?” he asked. “Have you really? Because you haven’t forgiven me, and I wouldn’t have been involved if it hadn’t been for your grandfather’s betrayal of your trust. He’s the one who used you as an unwitting courier to deliver his forged documents to his clients, not me.” He gave her a little shake. “Maybe the reason you’re so angry with me is because of him.”

  “I don’t need armchair psychology from you, O’Connell.” Her anger flared anew. “You’re the one who fucked me over, in more ways than one.” This time she jerked hard enough to dislodge his hands. She moved away, putting several meters of space between them. “And you yourself admitted you wouldn’t do anything differently—”

  “I would try to do things differently so you wouldn’t have been arrested,” he interrupted, his voice harsh. “If I could change that one thing, darlin’, I would.”

  She stilled. He’d never before said that to her. He’d only ever said he was sorry about what had happened, but he’d said it in such a way that she’d thought he would have done pretty much the same thing all over again if he had to.

  Even when she’d known him when he was younger, he’d been driven by determination. Driven to prove…something, whether to himself or to others, she’d never known. But he’d always hidden behind a casual, carefree attitude toward life, never letting her get too close.

  Not even when they’d become lovers.

  She searched his gaze. His candor was impossible to reject.

  He must have seen something in her soften, because he slowly came forward. “I would turn back time if I could, Pel. I never wanted you to get hurt. If you don’t believe anythin’ else, believe that.”

  And she did. Heaven help her, she believed him. But it was hard to let go of the hurt and anger she’d been holding onto for the past two years. She wasn’t entirely sure she could—or wanted to—trust him again, but she couldn’t deny any longer that she’d missed him.

  Missed touching him. Kissing him. Making love with him. She’d even missed arguing with him. But still…

  “I don’t think I can trust you.” Her voice trembled. She cleared her throat. “I’m afraid you’ll hurt me again.”

  “I won’t, I swear.” Declan brought his hands up to cup her face. Callused thumbs swept slowly back and forth across her cheeks. “I know I fucked up, Pel. I’ve had two years to decide what was important in my life, to set some priorities.” He brushed the hair away from her face, letting one broad palm curl around the curve of her skull. “I don’t work for the security company anymore. I’m strictly a
one-man operation—my own boss. I promise you I won’t let my job come between us again.”

  Even as Pelicia mentally accepted the olive branch he offered, she knew it wasn’t enough. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, since I’m not doing anything that would make your job come between us,” she responded while she eased away from him once again, “that’s not much of a promise.”

  He frowned, his forehead lined with confusion. “What the hell do you want from me, then?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know.” She didn’t. Her feelings were in such turmoil that she didn’t think she could articulate what she wanted from herself, let alone what she wanted from him.

  His eyes sparked once more with irritation. “Well, when you figure it out, call me.”

  So much for the peace offering. He hadn’t changed, not one bit. “You’re a real tosser, you know that? You act like you’re throwing me a bone yet you still want things on your terms.” She poked him in the chest and tried to ignore how very firm and warm he felt. “Not this time, sweet cheeks.” She quashed the urge to reach around and give one of those sweet cheeks a quick, hard pat. It would irritate the bejesus out of him and…

  On second thought, maybe a smack on the bum was just what the man needed. Before she could follow through, though, Declan stepped back and raked both hands through his hair.

  “How the hell am I supposed to fix things if you can’t even tell me what you want?” His deep voice rasped with frustration.

  Pelicia narrowed her eyes. “Don’t put this on me. I wasn’t the one who mucked things up.” Her voice rose with indignation and the flare of remembered hurt.

  He sighed and turned away from her. “We’re obviously not gettin’ anywhere. I’m goin’ to let you cool down. I’ll come back later when you’re calmer.”

  “Typical.” Scorn lay heavy in her voice. Faced with something he couldn’t immediately fix, he was going to make a strategic retreat and plan his next move. Instead of staying to talk things out now, he would leave to regroup and come back later to try and bulldoze her into his way of thinking.

  His shoulders went back. He stopped and pivoted to face her. “And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just what you think it means, O’Connell.” His scowl deepened at her use of his last name. She knew he hated it when she did it—it was much less intimate than using his first name, which of course was why she did it. “You’ve discovered you can’t sweet-talk me into falling into bed with you again, so you’re going to tuck your tail between your legs and run away.”

  A growl rumbled from his chest. With a muscle in his jaw flexing, he slowly announced, “The only thing that’s goin’ to get tucked, darlin’, is my cock into your sweet pussy.” The Irish brogue was very much in evidence, attesting to his growing aggravation.

  There was the Declan she remembered. Arrogant and so confident in her surrender that she wanted to smack him. Again.

  “You should be so lucky.” Pent-up anger flared. He’d been everything to her and had turned her world upside down when he’d betrayed her. She’d survived, had become stronger for it, and knew she could live the rest of her life without him.

  But she missed him, the cocky smartass, and that made her angry, too. And more turned on than she’d been in two years. “Your randy prick isn’t coming near me any time soon, you can bet on that.”

  She’d feel better if she could believe what she’d just said, but her body felt like one big throb of arousal. Hopefully Declan wouldn’t call her bluff.

  His eyes glinted. “Do I detect a challenge?” Lustful anticipation flicked over his face.

  Pelicia went very still. Even her breath seemed suspended. Why not? She gazed at him and wondered why she was holding back. Sex with Declan had never been the problem. As long as she kept her emotions out of it, why not do the horizontal mambo with him?

  “If you think you’re man enough,” she drawled, holding her hands out in front of her and crooking her fingers at him, “come and get me.”

  A slow smile curved his mouth. Lust rolled off him in waves, making her shiver in anticipation. As he began stalking toward her, she wondered if she hadn’t perhaps wakened a beast that she should have left well enough alone.

  But what a sexy beast he was.

  She backed up until she hit the door. Palms flat against the wood behind her, she stared at him, her pulse pounding madly in her throat.

  This was what had been missing in her life in the last two years—that sensation of being alive. Only Declan had ever made her feel quite like this.

  Like she was standing on the edge of a cliff without a parachute, ready to jump, trusting he’d be there at the bottom ready to catch her.

  Only he hadn’t.

  She shook her head, dislodging that thought. Right here, right now, this was about sex. Pure and simple. Nothing more.

  When he stopped a few feet away, she wondered if he’d changed his mind. “What’s the matter, O’Connell?” she taunted. “Can’t get it up?”

  Declan quirked an eyebrow. Pelicia was spoiling for a fight, and after the last four months of trying to get near her only to have her continually push him away, he was primed to give it to her. All she had to do was glance below his beltline, and she’d see getting it up wasn’t a problem for him.

  If she wanted to do the old bone dance, he was more than happy to oblige. Arousal throbbed deep in his gut, danced along his veins to pulse behind his eyes.

  He trapped a snarl in his throat. Desire had awoken the beast within, startling him with its intensity. But he welcomed it—he could see so much more acutely, could smell how aroused Pelicia was. Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, fluttered in her throat.

  It wasn’t fear—he’d have been able to sense that, too. Smell it, even. No, she was nervous and even a little apprehensive, but she wasn’t afraid. Which was good—he didn’t want her to be frightened of him.

  Mindless with passion was another thing.

  This certainly wasn’t the way he’d planned to get back in her bed. He’d had more wooing in mind, thinking flowers and some expensive wine would be involved. But he’d take whatever she was willing to give.

  And if she wanted it this way, well, she’d always been able to make him hot, aching and hard with little effort on her part. He was more than ready to accommodate her.

  He took the next few steps necessary to bring them face to face. Leaning one forearm against the door jam, he bent until his lips were a breath away from hers. “You sure you’re up for this, darlin’?”

  Her tongue swept across her lips, leaving them wet and inviting. “I’m sure,” she whispered. Her gaze locked with his, the blue of her irises almost swallowed up by the pupils. “But if you’ve doubts…”

  Declan pressed his hips against hers, letting her feel just how many doubts he didn’t have. Her lips parted on a gasp. He took her mouth with his, hard, unable to summon gentleness through the wild arousal beating at him.

  He brought his hands up, cupping her face between his palms, and tilted her head for a better angle. God, she tasted better than anything he could remember. Sweet like honey with a hint of something tart. He licked across her lips then dove back into her mouth.

  Her tongue twisted around his, surging into his mouth when he retreated only to tempt him back to her when she withdrew. He forged inside her mouth. She suckled his tongue, drawing him deeper, making him groan as his cock hardened even further.

  Her scent made him crazy with need and her touch—soft and hungry and searching—made him ravenous. Leaving her mouth, he worked his way down her throat, stopping at the pulse pounding under her soft skin. He rested his lips there for a moment before touching the tip of his tongue to the spot. Life thrummed beneath his tongue, awakening a different sort of hunger.

  He closed his eyes and fought back the wolf, fought back the instinct that told him to fit his teeth into her soft skin, to irrevocably mark her as his.

  He’d had no c
hoice in becoming a werewolf—he wouldn’t force the same fate upon Pelicia.

  And that thought gentled his response. Declan placed a kiss on the corner of her lips and drew her to the bed. He eased off her clothing, his eyes narrowing at the sultry picture she made. Pink-tipped breasts billowed above a narrow waist and generous hips. With economical movements he took off his clothes and then came down on top of her again. He kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to mate with hers.

  Her hands came around him, fingers flexing into his back muscles. She moved her legs restlessly. He slid between them, his cock stiff against her belly.

  He kissed his way down her throat, closing his eyes at the softness of her skin. Scattering kisses across her chest, he tongued each stiff nipple before kissing his way down her flat stomach.

  His hands parted her thighs just a little wider, his fingers stroking a long caress in the moist folds between her legs. She jumped when he touched her, jerked against his hand, a sharp cry of pleasure escaping her.

  He pushed a finger slowly inside her tight, hot sheath. At once her muscles clenched around him, velvet soft yet firm and moist. His own body throbbed and swelled in response.

  Her hips pressed forward wantonly, in her rising passion all inhibitions gone. Declan thrust another finger into her, stretching her, preparing her. More than anything, her pleasure mattered to him. Her velvet folds pulsed for him, wanting, demanding, and he fed that hunger, pushing deep, retreating, thrusting again so that her hips followed his lead.

  “That’s it, darlin’,” he breathed against her stomach. “Just like that. I want you ready for me.”

  “I am ready for you,” she panted, her slender hands grasping his hair, trying to pull his face up to hers.