I glance at Victor, observing us from the door. “Well, originally I planned to be here just for the wedding, but I’ll be working here, soon.”
Moon-bow grins huge. “Awesome. You’ll love it. It’s a friendly and fun operation.” His gaze flicks to Victor for a nanosecond. “Usually, anyway.” He smiles. “I’ll certainly enjoy seeing you on a regular basis, again. I expect you to plot my next career move.” With a conspiratorial wink, Michael kisses me on the forehead.
Victor narrows his eyes.
“Moon-bow,” I sigh. Why would he feed Victor’s anger?
Michael grins with another little wink. “I expect some ‘splainin’ next time.” He turns me to the door.
I walk away.
“A Grand Marnier date next week?” Michael calls after me.
“Yes.” I smile back at him.
As I breeze past Victor, I lock eyes with him, warning him to calm down. The burning chocolate tells me that he’s livid. Spinning on his heel, he, wordlessly, follows me all the way back to my room.
chapter nineteen
WATCHING CHERIE KISS and hug on Monbeau, I lost it fast to my beast. And I was jealous of Jesse, thought he was a threat?
My wolf is still on the surface. He’s angry and jealous and desperate.
The instant she closes the door to her room, I press her back against it, take her mouth in a punishing kiss.
You’re mine!
Startled, she drops her bag and purse, pushes on my chest. When that doesn’t work, she pounds me with her tiny fists. My beast takes over, grabbing her wrists, pinning them over her head and pressing firmer against her soft body. Jamming a thigh between her legs, I grind it into her crotch, my tongue thrusting into her mouth hard, wanting to brand her, wanting to show her only I can please her.
Cherie wrenches her mouth away. “Stop.” She bucks to get me off her. “Victor, stop it!”
The disgust in her voice puts the wolf back in his place.
Ashamed of myself, I let her arms go, let her wedge out from under me. I breathe deep, in through nose, out through mouth. My forehead pressed to the door in an effort to cool off, I blow away the rest of the jealous fog.
“I do not find jealousy romantic.” she says, with a crack in her voice.
“Me, either,” I mumble to the door.
After a moment, I turn around to look at her. Beautiful and feminine, poured into a floral dress, her sky blue eyes watch me warily.
Fuck.
“I don’t even recognize myself. I’ve never acted like this before.”
Never felt this acute insane possessiveness for anyone, sweetness. Only you.
I take a step toward her. I want to hold her, say I’m sorry. It crushes me when she scurries to the other side of the room.
I grunt, rub my jaw. “I don’t blame you. Even I’m scared of me right now.”
“Why are you scared?” She asks me.
Grimacing, I blurt out the fucking truth. “I’m afraid of these intense feelings I have for you. Every thing is heighten when it comes to you. Insecurity. Anger. Desire. Joy. All my emotions about you are so damn — potent.”
As potent as you are, mi ninfa. Lay it all out, Vic.
“I think I’m falling for you, Cherie,” I whisper. “A raging, all consuming, jealous as fucking hell dive off a cliff.”
There, I said it, out loud for me and for her.
Her eyes soften just a bit, lose the fear in them. She tilts her head the way she does when she’s considering something. Before it was cute. Right now, I take it that she doubts me, doubts me for good reason. My gut clenches at the knowledge.
I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out.
Leaving before I have an unmanly breakdown in front of her, I hurry through the connecting door, close it behind me. I open a cabinet where I keep my private stash of bourbon. I look at the time. Quarter to noon.
Hah. That’s fucking insane. I’m fucking insane.
I put the bottle back. Instead, I grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, go sit on the balcony. Just need to breathe, take a few minutes to meditate on the mountains in front of me, think about how I probably fucked up any trust I may have built with this girl who has a fisted grip on my heart.
Why the hell did I just do that?
After a few minutes, a noise inside catches my attention. Cherie, her eyes big, body language hesitant, hovers in the doorway.
“You’re not going to fire Michael, are you?”
I just assaulted her and she’s worried about the chef.
I shake my head no. “He’s an excellent chef. Grandmother, hell, most of Telluride would never forgive me. And neither would you, huh?”
Tears fill her eyes. “It wouldn’t be fair to punish my friend because you’re jealous of him.”
“I’m not going to fire him, Cherie.” I can’t even look at her. She thinks I’m a bastard. Maybe she’s right.
“Victor, I have a lot of male friends —” Her voice trails off.
I nod.
“But I’m not a slut.”
“Of course you’re not. Haven’t we been over that already?” I take a drink of my water, stare at the view I can’t focus on. “What you are, Cherie, is drop dead gorgeous and super sweet. A lot of men, and probably a number of women, flirt with you.”
“And I flirt back,” she mumbles.
I look at her. “Yeah.”
Giant tears glide down her cheeks. “I’ve never been in a relationship before. I don’t know —.” She sniffs.
“Aw, peaches, don’t cry.”
“Victor, I don’t know how to act.”
“Neither do I, apparently. Come here.” I pat my lap, hold my breath that she’ll come to me without fear. Thank god, she does. I cradle her head, wipe away the tears on her cheeks.
“Tell me what I did to make you that jealous,” she says.
I look at her incredulous. “What?”
“I show a lot physical affection toward my friends, female and male. And I need to know if that’s a faux paus when you’re in a relationship. You’re my first, remember. It’s your responsibility to teach me these things.” She grins a little, melting my heart and any residual anger.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to apologize for. I do. For getting jealous, for —” My voice breaks in shame. “For assaulting you. Fuck, Cherie, I can’t believe I did that.”
“Neither can I.” She plays with my fingers. “Your touch is usually —”
“Usually what?” I ask.
“Pleasant,” she says.
Fuck. I am an asshole.
“I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me?”
She studies my eyes, finally nods. “Just don’t ever do it again.”
“You have my permission to cut off my balls if I do.”
“I will, you know.” The trace of a smile on her face is such a relief. She makes a pentagram in the air. “My coven and I will curse ‘em and turn ‘em into raisins.”
“I’d deserve it.” I smile back at her. “Thank you for forgiving me.” I kiss her temple.
She weaves her fingers through mine.
“Victor, I can’t promise you forever. I’m not a big believer in that.”
I know, peaches. That’s my problem, right there.
“But I will promise you that I won’t be with anyone else while I’m with you.”
It’s one of those little promises I want from her. Yet it’s not enough. She’s giving me her body — for now, on loan. Not good enough by a long shot.
I want your heart, too, mi ninfa. I want to be the one you fling yourself at because you’re so happy to see me.
Her stomach growls. I chuckle and caress her belly.
“What have you put in there today?”
She tilts her head in thought. “A delicious Avalon apple, coffee, a whole grain muffin and the tasting samples.”
“They were good weren’t they?” I
say, bringing her fingers to my lips to kiss.
She nods. “I knew he’d be a great chef.”
I slip my cell out of my pocket, call room service.
“This is Victor. Please have one of Chef Monbeau’s charcuterie platters and an assortment of fruit sent to my room. Thank you.”
I hang up, turn my attention back to my girl.
“I’m going to tell you a secret, but you can’t tell anyone. If LeBlanc doesn’t come back from Europe, we’ll promote Monbeau to Executive Chef.”
She smiles. “Really? Why is LeBlanc in Europe?”
“Grandmother believes he’s homesick. Don’t tell Monbeau, okay? Until everything’s official?”
Cherie nods. “Okay. Can I be there when you tell him? I’d like to see the look on his face.”
“Sure. You can even kiss him in congratulations — no tongue, though.” I grin. It’s easier to be generous when she's in my lap.
“My tongue belongs to you.” She jokes.
All of you belongs to me, peaches.
I want to ask about their relationship, but I’m apprehensive at stirring that pot again. Reading my mind, she brings it up herself.
“We worked together,” she says.
“I gathered that much. Where at?”
“The Broadmoor.” She tells me about their work there, their friendship, how he used her as a culinary guinea pig. One burning question of mine doesn’t get answered.
“What’s a Grand Marnier date?” I tamp down a surge of Lycan jealousy. Her drunk, making out with another guy? Not going to happen on my watch.
“At a Grand Marnier date, one gets tipsy and talks smack.” She giggles and explains the origin of the phrase, confirming that I really am a bastard for thinking the worst.
What stuns me is the story of Monbeau little brother’s death. I had no fucking idea that he was carrying that kind of grief with him. I think of my own little brother, how crushed I’d be if he died.
When the food arrives, I bring it to the balcony, haul her back on my lap and feed her. In between bites, I kiss her, relieved with each peck that my feral actions didn’t completely ruin our budding relationship.
Her phone chimes. She looks at the screen and narrows her eyes at me. She must have discovered my surprise on the device.
“Hey, Mom.”
She listens.
“What time are you leaving?”
She listens again.
“You’re bringing Phil?” Grimacing, she sits up, wants to slide off my lap. I don’t let her.
She rolls her eyes, sighs as she listens to her mom.
“I’m sure a plus one is fine. I’ll tell Gabs. Are you still riding with Reed?”
A pause.
“Okay. Can you tell Reed to call his sister before you head out? Gabs forgot her ‘something new’ at home.”
Cherie listens more.
“Alright. Drive safe. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you, too. Bye.”
She ends the call.
“Who’s Phil?” I rub her back.
She sneers. “My mother’s neighbor and boyfriend.”
“You don’t like him?”
“Not really.” She shrugs it off. “So, about this.” She taps her phone.
The wallpaper on the screen is a pic of me, cross-eyed and lips puckered.
“When did you do this?” She doesn’t smile. That’s a worry.
“While you were in the shower this morning. That’s my crazy-for-you face. I put my number in there, too.”
She taps around on the screen, pulls up my contact listing.
“Victor Santana,” she reads. “Lover slash boyfriend slash the boss.”
“No, it’s ‘da’ boss. See.” I point at the spelling.
She stares at me with a tilted head — as if she isn’t sure what to make of me, how to categorize me. I love it.
“You really are crazy,” she says.
I start to say ‘for you’, but she puts a finger to my lips, then kisses me, sweetly, softly.
Her phone chimes again.
Fucking phone.
It’s a text from Gabby telling Cherie to come the pool.
“Stay right here,” Cherie says to me.
She goes to her room, comes back looking like a beach goddess in an itsy-bitsy pale blue bikini.
“Um, yeah. You’re not going out in public like that.”
I meant it as a joke. The frozen body language and wary glance tell me that she saw right through that. I gotta get control of myself. These acts of jealousy are doing a lot of damage.
“I’m kidding, Cherie.”
“I have a one piece.”
“Wear the bikini. You look hot in it.”
She tilts her head, searches my eyes.
I smile, willing her to believe that I’m trying my best to be a cool, non-jealous boyfriend.
“Is that sunscreen?” I point to the bottle in her hand.
“Yes.”
“Come here. I’ll put it on.” I wave her over to me.
Still wary, she hesitates.
“Cherie, are you afraid of me?”
“No.”
“Then, get over here.” I put more force into my voice.
Slow steps, at first, she comes to me, holds out the lotion.
I position her between my knees, diligently cover every square inch of her delectable skin. Need to protect this beauty.
“Turn around.” I smooth on a thick layer on her shoulders, back and legs.
By the time I’m finished, I’m hard as rock. I wipe my fingers on a napkin before slipping them under the leg of her bikini bottom. I need to make her come before she leaves.
“I don’t think the sun will be a problem there,” she says, squirming against my fingers.
“Mmmmm. Better safe than sorry.” I dip a finger into her velvet heat, vibrate my palm on her clit. She leans her head back against my chest, perfect for watching her face as she climbs to climax. Mouth parted, eyelids fluttering, sweet gasps and pants — her response to me is as much of a turn-on as her hot little body. Without even touching her tits, I make her come in a minute flat.
Removing my hand, I nuzzle behind her ear while she gets her breath back. I growl at her nipples, pebbled and pushing at that tiny bikini top. I don’t touch them, though, knowing we’d end up in bed for more — much more.
“We got your transcripts this morning. You’re all set, little Miss Straight A’s.” I keep my nose behind her ear. She smells so good.
“Yes, sir.” She purrs.
“Ooooh. I like it when you call me sir.” I control the impulse to cup those breasts. “Maybe we’ll try a little BDSM in the future.”
She pushes off me to stand. “I can’t see either one of us as a submissive.”
I chuckle. She’s right about that.
“And I detest pain.” She smirks.
Caressing her flawless skin, I can’t imagine marring it in any way. “Me, too. Maybe light bondage.”
Her pupils dilate at the suggestion which causes my cock to jump.
Her phone chimes again. She looks at the screen. “I better go.”
I whimper a little inside. I’d rather experiment with tying her to my bed.
Wrapping a cover up over her hips, she backs away to the door with saucy movements. “If you’d like, tonight I can show you what I bought at the lingerie shop.”
“I’d like that very much.” I smile. I’m a man. We love lingerie. On Cherie, though, I doubt it’ll do her justice. Mi ninfa naked in all her glory is the ultimate in sexy.
She blows me a kiss before going out the door.
chapter twenty
VICTOR SAID HE’S falling for me.
It’s highly unlikely he meant love. It’s lust — and some possessive wolf impulse. But my heart soared when he said it, appeased that I’m not the only one sorting through sudden and intense feelings.
That extreme jealousy of his is as explosive as the orgasms we have. God, those orgasms. Muscles that I’ve become m
ore aware of contract at the thought.
Commanding my body to behave, I stretch out on the chaise next to Gabs.
“Sunscreen?” She offers me her bottle.
“Got it covered,” I say.
“Even your back?”
“Uh, huh. Just letting it soak in before getting in the water.”
She nods with a knowing smile. “Okay, then. Do mine please?”
“Sure.” I swing my legs to sit up, wondering why her fiancé didn’t do this. “Where are the boys?”
“Bachelor party setup. Probably interviewing strippers.” She laughs. “They should be back soon.”
The clackity clack of luggage wheels on the pool deck behind us, catches my attention.
“Hey, chicas.” Lauralynn parks her carry-on next to the lounge chair to the left of me.
“Hey, Ells.” Gabs turns her back to me for sunscreen. “How was Santa Fe?”
“Wonderful, as always. Finished my part of the Idea House, and,” Lauralynn nods at me. “I met Mr. Rodriquez who came through the sneak peek open house yesterday.”
“Nice.”
Though still a student, Lauralynn — Ells is our nickname for her, because of the two Ls in her name — has already worked on several noted interior projects for major commercial architects. Garnering a few awards in the process, she’s been featured in industry publications as a young designer to watch.
Ells studies her nails. “I dropped your name during our conversation.”
I laugh. “How’d that work out for you?”
“Fantastic, actually. Because I’m a friend of yours, he hired me to redesign several of the summer bungalows at The Graces.”
“That’s great, Ells. But, I’m sure it was your body of work and not my name that got you the job.”
She elbows me. “Maybe a bit of both. By the way, you didn’t tell me that he’s a warlock.”
“What?” I stop mid-rub on the back of Gabs’ arm.
Warlocks are rare. For one, many baby boy witches die from sudden infant death syndrome. No one knows why. And, for two, teenage warlocks emanate intense vibrations that draw the attention of hunters to them — and their families. So, those that survive childhood are stripped of their power way before adolescence by mothers, aunts or grandmothers.
“I didn’t sense him until he was standing right next to me.” She shrugs. “He’s found a way to control himself.” Fully clothed in a chic travel outfit, Lauralynn kicks off her shoes and settles in the chaise. “Makes you wonder what kind of secrets The Graces is hiding, doesn’t it?”
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