by P. Jameson
Trager took every stair, hoping it would be the last, until they reached the top. His mate stopped to talk to an elderly neighbor, and then finally unlocked the door to her apartment.
Yes, he was delirious with exhaustion, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy. This entire day had been like Christmas Eve, with how giddy he was. The thought was almost embarrassing, but it was his woman. He couldn’t be ashamed for being excited. It wasn’t a done deal by any means, but she was accepting him. She had asked him to the market. She had suggested he come to her place for coffee. She had held his hand.
Now she was opening her home to him—something he’d never expected her to do. It was enough to make his throat dry, and is eyes… not.
He blinked away the traitorous moisture and followed her inside.
The apartment was small. Just an open kitchen/living room set up, with a couple doors to the side, which he assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. The walls were painted the color of her pants, with white trim. Navy curtains hung across the windows and a giant painting of a red calla lily took up most of one wall.
It was simple, clean, and comfortable. Trager loved it.
He followed his mate into the small kitchen, where she awkwardly deposited the two bags she carried onto a counter that was clearly made for someone taller than her.
“Just find a space and drop ‘em,” she instructed. He got most of his six bags on the counter. One ended up on the stovetop.
“Thanks,” she said, staring up at him. “Yep, you’re looking almost gone. You need coffee, stat.”
Trager smiled. Or he hoped it was a smile. She was so damn adorable.
“Why don’t you go sit on the couch while I make it. I’ll put this stuff away later.”
Maybe it was because he was so beat, but the couch felt like an oversized marshmallow, and smelled like the heavenly scent he’d recently become familiar with. He desperately needed to stay awake, but there was no other place he’d rather fall asleep. Well, there was one, but when he made it into her bed, they most certainly wouldn’t be sleeping.
His mouth worked into a smile.
“Thanks for helping me get my things home,” she called from the kitchen. He waited to answer until the water from the faucet turned off.
“No problem. My pleasure,” he slurred.
The noise of her making him coffee, lulled him even further. He was drifting… yeah, he wasn’t going to last.
His head fell back against the cushion. Wrapped in the comfort of home, inhaling her essence, he’d never felt more at peace. The years of loneliness faded to a distant memory.
Something nagged at the edge of his consciousness, though. As perfect as this day had been… she wasn’t yet his. He didn’t even know her name. That knowledge bothered him enough that his wolf couldn’t let him rest. He needed more from her.
“What’s your name?”
The sound of her movements paused. “I’m still not sure if you’re a creeper or not.”
He let out a small laugh. “I’m in your house. Kind of beside the point, isn’t it?”
“True. You’re right.” Her voice was light, carefree.
“What’s your name, dream girl?”
Two slow blinks, while he waited for her answer. On the third, his eyes stayed closed. Silently, he begged her to tell him. Just her name, it would be enough until he woke up.
He was about to slide off into sweet empty oblivion when her soft voice lilted the most beautiful word he’d ever heard. “Kerrigan. My name is Kerrigan.”
Kerrigan. When he woke up, he would say it out loud so he could relish the way it felt on his lips. Then he was going to find a way to kiss her sweet mouth.
It was his last thought before he sank into the void.
***
“With a K. But most people just call me Kerri. It’s easier, or whatever.”
Was she crazy or had he called her “dream girl”? What did that mean? Maybe it was something he called all the girls. Whatever the case, it made her skin buzz and her heart flop. Which probably had a lot to do with the way he’d fed her lunch. Never before had any man taken such care to make sure she’d eaten. With Ethan, he’d always commented on what she’d chosen, or how much she consumed.
Are you sure you want pizza? They have salad here.
You’re not going to eat all of that are you? You could save half for later.
Or the occasional, And you wonder why your pants are too tight, when she ordered something he didn’t approve of.
But Trager, he wanted her to eat. As if it settled him, to see her full and satisfied. It had been an almost intimate experience. Just remembering it made her legs feel like jelly.
She had to get a grip.
Kerrigan started unloading the bags while the coffee brewed. There were so many good finds at the market today, and she’d totally taken advantage of having an extra set of arms. Normally she wouldn’t make it home with all this.
The hissing of the Keurig finishing Trager’s extra large mug, brought her back to her task. “I know you probably drink your coffee black, but I have a super secret recipe that’s guaranteed to keep you awake until you get home—where is that anyway?”
Reaching into the refrigerator, she grabbed the cream, chocolate syrup, and caramel ice cream topping.
“You aren’t allergic to dairy, are you? I’m so used to asking because of the kids at school—“ Kerrigan’s stomach clenched. One more day and she would know if she got the job. She scanned the kitchen. It would be quite a chore to pack up all her things. Getting them to Alaska, an even bigger task. Seeing her father again, with his judgmental you’ve-failed look, would be the hardest of all.
She stirred in the cream, a dallop of caramel, and a healthy squirt of chocolate, and then took it into the living room.
“Alright, here you go. This coffee has gotten me through some of my toughest morni—“
The sight of Trager fast asleep on her couch had her stalled in her tracks.
Crap. No, no, no. He couldn’t sleep here.
“Trager? Hey, um…”
He was completely out. Like REM sleep had come and punched him in the face.
While she stood there, shocked and trying to figure out what to do, she observed him. He was different like this, with shaggy hair falling over his forehead and his face absent of attitude. His full lips curved in a relaxed pout. He looked almost sweet. Someone to cuddle with. Maybe this was the real Trager. Maybe the biker persona, the danger, was all for show.
She could only hope.
Absently, she brought the coffee mug to her lips and sipped.
What was she going to do? It was already four o’clock, and he could be out for hours. She’d have to try harder to wake him. She set the mug on the coffee table and went over to him.
“Trager,” she whispered. She’d have better luck at stirring him if she called his name louder, but it almost seemed like a shame. Clearly, he was too exhausted to drive home anyway. She could let him take a nap. That couldn’t hurt anything.
Pulling the throw from the back of the couch, she covered him. He was warm enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, but just in case.
Stepping back, she stared again. There was something thrilling about having the freedom to look at him. He was handsome, no one could deny that. Probably the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
A little worm of self-consciousness made her wonder why he’d spent time with her today. Kerrigan knew she wasn’t ugly, per se. She could name a few things about her appearance that people seemed to like. Her unblemished skin and eyes, for example. But she was also woman enough to admit, she was a far cry from anyone’s fantasy girl. Her hair was naturally curly, so that meant it was also naturally frizzy. Too much padding in the hips, ass, and belly had always been a problem too.
Until Ethan, she hadn’t realized how much of a problem it was for some men. He’d definitely wanted her to shed some pounds. And damn, had she tried. But she’d ended up gaining instead, an
d he’d accused her of cheating on her diet. He’d found a pack of months-old M&M’s in a drawer and thrown them at her, insisting she tell him where her stash was.
Kerrigan sighed.
That had been their last argument. The next time her phone rang with his number, he hadn’t been on the other end of the line.
“Ethan, listen, I’m sorry,” she rushed out. “Just come home and we’ll talk. I’ll try harder, I promise.”
“Ma’am, this is Officer Adams. Can you come down to the police station?”
“Wh-what’s happened?” Her heart hammered in her chest.
“There’s been an accident, ma’am. Please, come immediately.”
Over the next few weeks, she’d learned that Ethan hadn’t truly ever cared for her. It was the only reason she’d put up with his hurtful actions; she’d thought he acted out of love and concern. But no, the truth was he didn’t love her in the slightest. He was only with her to gain access to her bank accounts.
The whole ordeal had changed the way she looked at things, at people. At life.
Since a biker was responsible for Ethan’s accident, she equated them all to irresponsible jackasses, with no regard for the well-being of others. Since Ethan was a prick who thought it was okay to play with her feelings for his own gain, she tended to question anyone who had anything to do with her. It was why she didn’t have friends; she had co-workers—and not even those anymore. And it was most certainly why she stayed far, far away from men. Whether they were interested in her or not.
Her suspicious nature and keeping distance was 98% effective at making sure she didn’t get screwed over again. But it also left her incredibly lonely. Achingly, lonely. So lonely, it made her chest feel tight just thinking about it. Maybe she should go back to Alaska. At least there, she had Braeh. The I-told-you-so’s from her father would fade eventually. Surely.
Kerrigan took the mug back to the kitchen and put away her market finds, then settled into her cozy chair in the living room to keep an eye on Trager.
Time to read some more of that romance novel she’d started. She glanced at the window. Might be able to finish before dark.
Hours ticked by in silence. Trager slept, as still as the dead. The only difference was he actually breathed.
Kerrigan snuggled farther into the chair. The book was getting good. The hero had just rescued the heroine—only to then be rescued by her in return. And now, they were going to kiss. Or… maybe more. Yep, definitely more.
…he slid his hot, hot hand between her thighs, hesitating, almost but not quite touching her through her panties.
“Please,” she whimpered.
Instead, he stroked her inner leg with his thumb. Slowly, softly, while kissing her neck and nibbling her ear, his breath scalding hot on her shoulder.
“Please what?”
“Touch me.” She moaned as his fingers finally— “Kerrigan.”
Her name, clearly mumbled, from Trager’s lips made her jump. The Kindle clattered to the floor, bouncing on the carpeted hardwood. She stared at him, but he was still asleep. Asleep?
Had she actually heard her name or was she imagining things?
She snatched the Kindle off the floor and found her spot, glanced once more at Trager, and settled back into the chair.
… made contact with the part of her that burned for him.
“Like that?” His husky voice reverberated in her chest, causing her breasts to ting— “Kerrigan.”
Her head snapped up, but this time she managed to hold onto her Kindle. That was definitely her name. Coming from his mouth. While he slept.
Holy cow. Was he dreaming of her?
Better question: was it a good dream? Or a nightmare? Like, maybe she was throwing herself at him and he was forced to fight her off. Hopefully it was more pleasant. Maybe something like what was in her book.
Whoa.
The idea made her feel like a melting ice cream cone. She pressed her lips together. Clearly, the loneliness was getting to her.
Trager’s eyes flew open wide. There was the glassy look you’d expect from someone who’d been asleep for hours, but underneath it, there was an eerie awareness. Like he was seeing straight through her, and into her seductive thoughts.
Slowly, he sat forward, the drowsiness, sloughing off.
“Kerrigan.” His voice was low and deep, a rumble that reverberated in the space between her ribs. The sound made her want to purr. Trager breathed deep through his nose and his eyes narrowed to slits. “Oh, Kerrigan. I do like that very much.”
“Th-thanks. My mom chose it.”
“Not your name. Though, I’m partial to that too.”
Okay. Before she could ask what it was he liked so much, he’d left the couch. Deliberately, he bent over her chair, his hands anchored on the arms, his face inches from hers. His eyes burned tracks down her body, starting at the top of her head and ending god-knows-where.
Kerrigan gulped. He looked hungry. Starved. Like he wanted to completely ravish her. Lay waste to the land that was Kerrigan, and ruin her for any others before he rode off into the sunset on his bike. She’d read of men having this kind of reaction to a woman, but that was just fiction.
Maybe he was sleepwalking? Stuck in a dream still. But if so, it was a good one. A thrill ran along her spine.
“Trager?”
“Mmm hmm?”
“A-are you awake?”
“Wide. Completely awake.”
Her heart raced as he bent even closer, making her skin feel flush. She thought, maybe, he was going to kiss her. Did she want that? They were barely more than strangers. But instinct told her a kiss from Trager would be unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
Yeah. She wanted this.
Except, he didn’t kiss her. What he did was a million times more intimate.
His cheek barely brushed hers as his face came to the crook between her neck and shoulder. The stubble tickled but she was far from laughing, shivering instead at his nearness, at his breath and how it danced along her skin. His nose grazed a path from her earlobe to the collar of her shirt, and back again, making her breath come faster and faster.
Trager inhaled deeply, and took all her self-restraint with it. Her hand threaded into his hair. It was the softest sensation between her fingers.
He growled—that was the only word for it—a low, rumbling sound from the back of his throat. “Too much.” It was barely more than a whisper. “Too fast.”
Whatever he meant, it didn’t stop him from pressing his lips against the skin of her neck.
Kerrigan tried hard to hold in her whimper. This was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Like he was… cherishing her. The thought made her eyes prick with tears, but they were forgotten in the next second, when Trager cradled her head, tilting it for better access to her neck.
Unable to help it, she moaned. His fingers tightened in her hair in response. Then it was no longer the softness of his lips she felt, but the wet heat of his tongue. It set fire to her insides, melting her bones.
He pulled back abruptly, as if catching himself, slapping his own hand for being in the cookie jar. He paced the small area in front of her coffee table, his hand rubbing his mouth, and making a faint shruff noise.
Kerrigan tried to steady her sawing breath and resisted the urge to fan herself. When he didn’t stop the pacing and hair pulling, she stood, on embarrassingly shaky knees.
“Trager.”
“Yeah?” To and fro, to and fro.
“Are you alright?”
Stop. Stare.
Yes, those were the right words.
His eyes blazed at her. A neon sign spelling DESIRE might as well have been hanging on his face. God, a man as beautiful as him, wanted her? Like, not just as an I’ve-got-no-other-hope-of-getting-laid-tonight last ditch effort either. He wanted her.
The knowledge made her stand a little taller. A grin curled her lips.
“I have to go,” he ground out. “But I’ll be back.
”
Part of her was disappointed. But the rest of her knew this was good. She wasn’t ready for sex yet. “Okay.”
Stalking over to her, he cupped the back of her neck, bringing her close again. His eyes never left hers. “I need to kiss you. I need that much before I go.”
She licked her lips in anticipation. If he was playing with her now, she would break his knees or something.
His descent upon her mouth was swift. Like an eagle diving at his prey. And his kiss was fierce, a fighter earning his prize. His other hand came up to grip her jaw, angling her head so he could coax her mouth open. She moaned, and his tongue pushed in, lapping at her mouth like it was the sweetest candy. She had no control, his mouth owning hers in a way she’d never be able to forget.
He broke away, mere millimeters separating them. His grip was still tight on her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, his eyes glued to her mouth. “You taste so good.” His tongue darted out again, finding her open mouth, lips fusing once more. “I can’t…” Again. Licking. “I can’t… get enough.”
Time stood still as everything in her world focused on a single point: where two mouths connected to form sensations she’d never thought possible. Tingling and buzzing and trembling like she’d never experienced before.
Too soon, he pulled away.
“I have to go. Now. Right now. But I’ll be back, okay.”
Her head felt like it was spinning but she thought she nodded.
“I’ll be back.”
Chapter Eight
It was the same damn dream he’d had every sleeping night since meeting her a week ago. Her presence filled up his small cabin as if she was actually there, living, loving, sharing in his home. As if it was their home. His bed was hers, and he awoke to her every morning, her pleasured moans better than any coffee to start the day. At night, they talked and laughed in the living room, planning their future. One of his favorite parts of the dream was when she’d let him watch her shower before he took her to bed. To know that he could do that for the rest of their lives, was the most satisfying feeling.
Trager hadn’t truly thought it possible, but he was happy.
Until he woke to sunlight and a cold empty bed.