“Give me the spare key first.”
“You crazy bitch!” He fumbled the key from his pocket and tossed it at her, and then dashed out the door, never once looking back.
Behind her, she heard Jericho collapse with a loud groan to the floor. Fear spiking her blood stream, she hurriedly locked the door, and then rushed to his side. “Are you alright?” she asked, watching as the fur receded and his muscles shrank back to normal proportions. “Jericho? Talk to me!”
“I’m okay,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just... a little winded. It’ll take me a few minutes to get my breath back, that’s all.”
Nodding, Becca rose and went to the kitchen. She came back a minute later with a bowl full of red meat cut into bite-sized chunks and a fork. “Here,” she said. “Eat this.”
Jericho took the bowl from her gratefully, then shoveled the meat into his mouth. “You know about this?” he asked, lifting the empty bowl. “How?”
She took it from him with a rueful smile. “I discovered for myself a long time ago that I recover faster from a change after I’ve had fresh meat.”
Jericho smiled, and then got to his feet. He waited until she’d returned from the kitchen, then took her into his arms and kissed her. “I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said softly. “I just couldn’t stand watching the bastard manhandle you like that.”
She grinned up at him. “I would have handled him myself if you hadn’t interfered,” she said, “But thank you. It was rather fun to watch you scare the shit out of him.”
Jericho laughed, then kissed her again. “So what do we do now, now that the excitement is over?”
Becca shrugged. “You wanna watch a movie? I don’t have much in the way of cable, but there is Netflix.”
“Netflix and chill?” he asked, his lips curving into a sexy smile.
“Sounds good to me,” Becca replied, laughing.
They cuddled up on the couch and watched When Harry Met Sally, a rom-com that Jericho had never watched in his life precisely because it was a rom-com, but that Becca had cajoled him into seeing, insisting that he would love it. He’d ended up laughing uproariously throughout most of the movie, which Becca had delighted in because even though he’d smiled plenty, she hadn’t really heard him laugh so freely and wholeheartedly until tonight.
“Oh man,” he said when the movie was over, “that fake orgasm scene was something else.”
Becca snorted. “Figures your mind would immediately come back to that.” She poked him in the chest.
He grinned, and then his brows drew together in a mock scowl. “You’re not pulling that kind of stunt on me, are you, woman?” he growled.
Becca giggled. “Maybe.” She lifted her chin. “Why don’t you try and see if you can tell the difference?”
Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and she completely forgot about any chance of faking anything as his tongue slid into her mouth, and he banded his arms about her tightly. His cock swelled beneath her, pressing against her hipbone, and a sparking a rush of excitement coursed through her veins as she tangled her fingers in his silky hair.
“You might be able to fake a moan here or there,” he growled into her ear, sliding a hand up her skirt. “But there’s no way you will ever have to fake an orgasm with me. Besides, I know how hot I make you…I can smell the desire on you.” He slipped two fingers inside her, and she moaned aloud – she hadn’t had any panties to change into, so she was fully exposed to his touch.
Jericho hissed at the feel of her hot, wet pussy clenching around his fingers. “You’re so damn tight.” He leaned over and lowered his lips to her neck, kissing her possessively, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin. “Come to bed with me,” he demanded, drawing her onto his lap. “I need you.”
Becca clung to Jericho as he carried her into her bedroom. He set her down on the bed, and she nuzzled into the white downy comforter. Her bedroom bore little resemblance to the splendor of his hotel suite, with its simple muted colors and bare bones furniture. The room was covered with knick-knacks and memorabilia collected from her tourism adventures. But Jericho didn’t seem to care at all or even notice; he simply pulled off her dress, then tore off his own clothes, and joined her on the bed, his eyes dancing with the flames of desire, and she shivered at the look of the raw hunger that sprawled across his chiseled face knowing exactly what he was about to do to her.
“On your hands and knees for me,” he ordered gruffly, teeth biting down on his bottom lip as though it would help curb the intense need he felt to be inside of her. “I want to take you from behind…I want to see that gorgeous ass of yours.”
She did as he asked, crouching in front of the window, which was separated by a gauzy white curtain so she could still see outside while being afforded some privacy. The twinkling lights of Paris blurred in front of her eyes as he spread her legs. She felt him shift down and suddenly his hot, wet tongue was licking her pussy, his mouth suckling at her clit, making her wetter than she’d ever been. She let out a loud moan before burying her face in the pillow. He was relentless in his skillful ability to make her come so quickly, and within minutes she found her clit buzzing with the excitement that was soon to be followed by an intense orgasm…a real orgasm, one that would leave her stunned and breathless as she fisted her hands in the sheets, tangled up in a web of blankets, and pleasure.
Jericho knew what he was doing. He deliberately waited until she was on the verge of exploding before pulling back up to his knees and fiercely pushing deep into her pussy, filling every inch of her with his gloriously hard cock. She was any man’s wet dream, her round and cream-colored ass mounted high in the air as he fucked her hard, claiming her once again, making her his. She cried out his name, her need for him coming out in broken words, her mind buzzing with delirious pleasure, unable to focus on anything but the wicked fire that ripped through her body, letting her know that this man was one that she would never forget…and that she would always long for.
Jericho growled his desire with every thrust of his hips, his hands squeezing her ass, gripping her tightly, their movement in perfect rhythm, moving together in a deliciously wicked dance that connected them in a way neither had ever felt before.
Her curls spilled over her back, contrasting wonderfully against her pale skin, and he grabbed a handful of it into his fist and tugged, pulling her back more firmly against him. She came suddenly, crying out his name as she shuddered wildly beneath him, her throbbing pussy spurring him on. He released her hair so he could grip her hips harder, pushing himself into her as far as he could, and when she shuddered beneath him in another release, he finally let himself go.
Chapter Twelve
Becca rolled over and reached for the right side of the bed, questing for a warm, hard body that promised her endless nights of passion. As usual, her fingers met nothing but cold sheets, and she sighed, the sense of loss rolling through her more poignant than it had been the day before, and the day before that.
It had been two days since she’d woken up and found Jericho gone, leaving nothing of himself behind but the spicy, masculine scent of him on the bed sheets to assure her that he had, in fact, been real. If not for the nice little bonus she’d gotten from work for, apparently, doing such an excellent job that he’d given her a five-star review, she’d have begun to wonder if the last few days had been a dream.
A highly charge, erotic dream, but nonetheless, a figment of her wild imagination.
Sighing angrily, she rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, wondering what to do with her day. She had the day off, but since all she really wanted to do was spend time with a man who wasn’t here for her, every other option out there just didn’t seem worth leaving the house for.
She was supposed to have been off yesterday, but she’d decided to come in anyway, hoping work would give her something else to focus on. That had been a mistake. The tour she’d given a new client had only reminded her of the time she’d
spent with Jericho, every step of the way invoking another memory of their time together. By the time she’d hit the pillow that night she’d been aching with need and loss, crying herself to sleep.
God, why had she ever decided to sleep with him? For that matter, why hadn’t she turned around the moment she’d seen him and demanded that Crystalle assign another tour guide to him? That would have saved her a hell of a lot of heartache.
She was out of the shower and wrapping a robe around her damp body when the doorbell rang. Frowning, she peered through the peephole, wondering who it could be, and curiosity ignited in her chest as she caught sight of a delivery man.
“Bonjour,” she greeted the man in French. “What can I do for you?”
The man smiled. “You have a very special delivery today,” he told her, handing her an arrangement of orange roses with little branches bearing white flowers woven into them. She gasped, warmth flooding through her as she recognized them as orange blossoms, and immediately knew who they came from.
“Thank you,” she said quickly, giving the delivery man a smile as she took the flowers. She tipped him, and then practically shut the door in his face as she set the arrangement down on the living room table so she could pull out the envelope that was nestled between the blossoms.
Sinking onto the sofa – which still smelled faintly of Jericho – she opened the envelope with trembling fingers and unfolded the letter. Two airline tickets slipped out from the paper and fluttered to the floor, and she grabbed them, her eyes going wide when she read the details on them.
A round-trip ticket to Chicago. This weekend.
Swallowing hard, she turned her attention back to the letter.
Dear Becca,
Try as I might, I’ve been unable to think of much else other than your beautiful face and wondrous body since my feet left Parisian ground. I didn’t realize how much you warmed me with your spunk and sass and fire during our time together, and now that you’re gone I feel like I’ve been overcome by a chill that just won’t leave my bones. I’ve driven myself back into my work to try to escape it – a horrible habit I was trying to break by going on a trip to Paris. Unfortunately, old habits die hard.
I know I’ve no right to ask this of you, but I’m a selfish man with selfish desires, and I want you with a burning need that defies all logic. Please, come and spend the weekend with me in Chicago. Come and grace me with the sound of your voice, with the sweetness of your kisses, with all there is about you that I am unable to find anywhere else.
Yours,
Jericho
P.S. If you do decide to come, please call me and let me know. I’d hate for you to get lost in Chicago trying to find me.
* * *
Jericho glanced away from his computer screen to the phone vibrating on his desk, hope leaping in his heart that it was Becca contacting him, telling him that she was packing now and would be in his arms in just a few short days. But it was only Ravena calling, her house number flashing across the screen for the third time today.
Grimacing, he hit ignore, then turned his attention back to the spreadsheet displayed on his monitor so he could finish reviewing the analysis one of his assistants had done for him. But rather than assimilating the information, the numbers blurred on his screen, then converged into a smiling, heart-shaped face with whiskey-colored eyes and a sassy smile that beckoned and promised all kinds of wicked things.
A knock on the door jolted him out of the vision, and he looked up to see Emerson on the other side of the glass.
“Come in,” he called, pushing aside the irritation chafing at the edges of his mind.
Emerson entered, carrying a manila file under his muscular arm. “Hey Chief. Brought you the file you asked for.”
“Thanks,” Jericho said distractedly, pushing a hand through his hair. “Just set it right there.” He pointed to the folder on his desk.
“Sure thing.” Emerson put the file down, and then waited for Jericho to say something else. When his chieftain continued to stare at the screen, he ventured, “Rough day?”
Jericho shook his head. “More like a rough night. Didn’t sleep too much.”
Emerson nodded. When Jericho didn’t elaborate, he knew he should leave, and yet he hesitated. “It’s that hybrid you met, isn’t it,” he said quietly.
Jericho growled low in his throat, his eyes flashing orange. “She has a name.”
“Becca. Right.” Emerson cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve never met her before.” He eyed his chieftain carefully, not sure what to say to him. He’d never seen Jericho in a state of lethargy in his life, and it made him feel oddly helpless. An angry or upset Jericho, he could deal with. But a drained one… that was completely beyond his scope of experience.
Part of him wanted to hunt down the female that had reduced his cousin to such a state, and rip her throat out. But he had the idea Jericho wouldn’t appreciate that very much, and that it would likely result in Emerson’s own death. And besides, it wasn’t really the she-bear’s fault that Jericho was pining away for her.
He wondered if his cousin had a clue that he was head-over-heels in love with her.
“You did mail that letter to her, didn’t you?” Jericho asked, his eyes cooling to their customary blue as he met Emerson’s gaze.
Emerson nodded. “Made sure it got delivered with that flower arrangement, just as you asked.” He tilted his head to the side. “You know, you could always go back for her. Sweep her off her feet, then put her on a private jet and whisk her back to Chicago. She wouldn’t know what hit her.”
Jericho’s eyes darkened. “No,” he said. “She’s not that kind of woman.” A smile played on his lips at the thought of her, and just how feisty she could be. “I doubt she would appreciate a kidnapping attempt from me. She must come to me of her own free will.”
Emerson sighed, looking at his watch. “Yeah, well, her flight’s supposed to be leaving tomorrow and she hasn’t bothered to call or text you. So I’d say free will’s not getting you very far.” He held up his hands when Jericho bared his fangs. “Just telling it like it is, Chief.”
“If you don’t have anything useful to say, then get out of here,” Jericho snarled. “
Emerson snorted. “Love you too, cuz.” He beat a hasty retreat though, closing the door firmly behind him – even he realized he’d struck a nerve, and it was best not to provoke a sleep-deprived bear that was missing his mate.
Back in the office, Jericho’s phone rang again. He snatched it up, fully prepared to dash it against a wall if the area code wasn’t Parisian, but he froze when he recognized the caller ID.
It was Ravena’s father, Sergei.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Knight.” Sergei’s Russian accent was thicker than his daughters, but his tone was just as refined and elegant as Ravena’s own speech. “Are you in good health?”
“Yes, I am,” Jericho said, frowning.
“You are not ill?” Sergei pressed. “Or perhaps injured?”
“No.” Jericho drew out the ‘o’ in a questioning tone, truly puzzled. “Is there a specific reason why you’re inquiring about my health, Mr. Hastings?”
“It is embarrassing for me to have to put these questions to you,” Sergei said, “when ordinarily it would be none of my business. But you see, Ravena asked me to call on her behalf, as she is very concerned about you. She says you have not been returning her calls, and she can only surmise that you must be incapacitated in some way, and unable to respond.
Jericho gritted his teeth. Damn her. “Please convey my sincerest apologies to your daughter,” he said politely even though what he really wanted to say was much less kind. “I have been incredibly busy with the company, and – ”
“I understand that you are a busy man, Mr. Knight,” Sergei drawled, cutting him off. “As a business man and a clan chieftain myself, I can sympathize with your plight. Time management can be a… tricky thing when the weight of so much responsibility lay
s on your shoulders, would you not agree?”
“I would,” Jericho said carefully, unsure of where Sergei was leading him, but doubting that he was going to like the destination very much.
“However, as a mate and father, I have come to learn the importance of setting aside time for family. My wife and children can be… demanding, and rightfully so as they need proper care and attention in order to flourish.” Sergei’s voice darkened almost imperceptibly. “My daughter will continue to need that care and attention once she leaves my home.”
“Understood.” Jericho swallowed, hating that sweat was actually breaking out across his brow. Sergei was telling him, without stating it directly, that if he did not make attempts to woo Ravena properly that he would withdraw his support of the union, which meant that Ravena would be off the table as a mate. And with practically no other prospects on the table, he couldn’t afford to let that happen. “I’ll give her a call tonight.”
“See that you do.” Sergei paused. “Maybe you can take her on a nice trip somewhere. Like maybe to Paris. I heard the weather is great over there this time of year.”
He hung up the phone just before it cracked in Jericho’s hand.
* * *
“That is it!”
Becca jerked upright in her chair as Crystalle slapped her hand on her desk. Hot coffee sloshed over the rim of Becca’s Styrofoam cup, and spilled all over her hand, and she yelped, yanking a few napkins from her desk and wiping up the mess, then blowing on the abused appendage to cool it.
“What?” Becca asked, thoroughly alarmed by the angry glint in Crystalle’s eye. “What did I do? Did I make a mistake on the expense report again?”
“No,” Crystalle replied darkly, wagging a finger. “You’ve been completely perfect, work-wise. A little too perfect. All the light and joy has gone out of you, and today you look like you’re about to collapse straight at death’s door. I wanna know why.”
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