Ready to Run: Werewolves in Love, Book 3

by Kinsey W. Holley

She slapped his arm. “Duh. I haven’t been living in a cave. I know what they are—I’ve just never been able to justify the expense.” Her cell phones had always been the cheapest models—it wasn’t like she had lots of people to call, never mind texting or getting on the Web.

  “You don’t need to justify this. It’s a gift. I added it to my plan.”

  “I have to at least pay the monthly bill!”

  “We can talk about it later. You really like it, huh?”

  “I love it. I gotta send an email to someone. TJ, what’s your address? Oh, this is so cool!”

  She must’ve squeaked a bit too loud because he and Taran both winced a little, but he didn’t seem to mind when she threw her arms around his neck.

  He turned his head as she kissed his cheek. His mouth found hers. His was open, and though she didn’t normally French kiss guys in the middle of a bar, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to part her lips and welcome his tongue.

  A warm, limp, happy feeling gushed through her, all the way down to her toes. She sort of sagged into him. A part of her was appalled at this very public display. It was the part of her she’d meant to leave behind in Luxor, so she ignored it and gave herself up to the intoxication of his kiss. His tongue was cold from the beer he’d been drinking, and she loved the taste of it.

  His hand was warm and heavy on her knee. As he ran it up her thigh, his thumb tracing the inner seam higher and higher, his fingers bumped into one of the rips on her new jeans. She started to giggle, and after a soft nibble on her bottom lip, he broke the kiss.

  They stared at each other a minute, her gaze locked on his mouth. She couldn’t look in his eyes, but she could catch their expression in her peripheral vision, and she knew his gaze was hungry. A hot knot of excitement was forming in her stomach. When he started to draw his hand away, she surprised herself by grabbing it, holding it against her thigh. His eyebrows shot up and his smile got wider.

  “Alrighty, then,” TJ drawled. “Hey! Can we get the check over here? Like, right now?”

  Chapter Seven

  His body was a live wire, sparking everywhere she touched him. His chest, with her arms wrapped around him, his back, with the length of her body pressed against it, his thighs, cradled between hers, all sizzled in the muggy Houston night as they zoomed toward home. His mind conjured sweetly torturous images of her hands moving over his stomach and sliding between his legs to cup his cock, now rock-hard and straining against his jeans.

  Sucking face in the middle of Cowgirls was one thing. Sara didn’t seem the type to give handjobs on a freeway. Besides, that was no way to drive a motorcycle.

  Climbing the stairs to the second floor of his condo, where the kitchen and living room were located, she stumbled a little. He raced to catch her, and she giggled as he pulled her back and buried his face in her hair.

  “You’re fast,” she murmured.

  “Mmm. I’m a werewolf.” The nape of her neck tasted tender and sweet, her stomach taut and warm through the thin softness of her cotton shirt. She twisted and flexed in his arms as his fingers skimmed inside the waist of her blue jeans. He carefully turned her around to face him.

  “Put your arms around my neck and lift your feet.”

  “Okay, but why—? Whee!”

  With one arm tightly around her waist, he went wolf-speed up the stairs and plunked her down on the island in middle of the kitchen as she panted and laughed.

  He dragged his fingers through the mass of silky red hair, pulling it back from her face so he could gaze at her, and she quit laughing.

  “I can’t ever look you in the eyes, can I?” she asked quietly.

  “No.”

  “Because you’re an alpha and I’m not your mate.”

  “Right. Does that bother you?”

  “I don’t know.” Her eyes were downcast, her hands restlessly stroking his arms. “It’s—it’s very unusual for a werewolf to find a mate, right?”

  “Right. Extremely. As in, most werewolves never do.”

  They didn’t need to have this conversation right now. Hooking his thumbs in the belt loops at the back of her jeans, he pulled her hard against him and heard her breath catch in her throat as he pressed her legs around his waist. He dragged his hands slowly over the smooth, worn denim on the tops of her legs until his thumbs met at the hot juncture of her thighs. She closed her eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath, her hands tightening on his face. Closely watching her expression, he pushed ever so gently against the seam of her crotch and was rewarded with a soft gasp. Her eyes flew open.

  “Bryan, I—”

  Before she could say anything else, he took her mouth, plunging his tongue into the sweet, soft recesses, and she squeezed his hand tightly between her legs and flexed against him. He reached up to run a thumb across her nipple. She rewarded him with the sweetest sigh. Her hands clutched at his biceps as if for support and her mouth trembled against his.

  He was so hard he couldn’t stand it, his hips grinding against her with a will of their own, and he felt like a teenager standing there humping helplessly against the island, but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break contact long enough to pick her up and take her to his bedroom. If he’d known back in Luxor how good she’d taste, how sweet and hot and tender she’d feel as she slowly came apart in his hands, he never would’ve asked her out in the first place.

  As much as he liked her, as much as he admired her character and respected her strength, appreciated her intelligence and enjoyed her company, if he’d simply had the sense not to touch her for the first time two long months ago, he might’ve gotten out okay. But now? Now that his head was swimming with her scent and her taste and her soft, strong body melting into his, now that her hands were tangled in his hair as her mouth went crazy under his, consuming his kisses and returning them with just as much heat, just as much need?

  “I wanted to do this a long time ago,” he murmured against her neck before trailing his tongue down to the valley between her breasts. She pushed him away long enough to take off her T-shirt and toss it aside. Then she sat up straight and put her hands behind her back, thrusting her perfect tits at him with a wicked smile.

  “Well, isn’t that pretty,” he murmured, spanning her ribcage with his hands and dragging his thumbs across her nipples, hard and pink and perfectly visible through the sheer green lace. “I like the little roses. And the front snap.”

  “Thank you,” she purred. “I wanted to do this too. Friday night, as a matter of fact.”

  “Uh-huh.” Enchanted with the sheer, lacy slip of lingerie, he’d already forgotten what he’d said. He ran his tongue just under the scalloped roses edging the top of the bra, pushing the straps down her shoulders to give his mouth unobstructed access to the soft, tender flesh. The bra was beautiful wrapping paper, but he couldn’t open the present quite yet.

  Not until he knew…

  “Sara, listen, I need to make sure. Are you drunk? I mean, have you had so much to drink that you can’t—?”

  Her wicked grin was enough to make a wolf forget his honor. “What? That I can’t do it?”

  “No! Don’t— Smartass.” He pinched her butt and she yelped. “I mean I don’t want to take advantage of you. Okay, yeah, I do want to take advantage of you—hard—but not if you’re too drunk.”

  She locked her ankles behind his back and laid her forehead against his. Very slowly, with only a little bit of a tipsy giggle, she whispered, “I hereby give you permission to take advantage of me. Signed, Sara Mae Hedges.”

  “Sounds consensual to me. Let’s go.”

  Lifting her off the island, he carried her out of the kitchen. She was unhooking her bra, and he was deciding that they could just do it on the stairs, when his left jeans pocket began to vibrate and a mechanical voice intoned, “Nick. Wargman. Calling.”

  Why hadn’t he left his goddamned phone in his saddlebag?

  Sara froze in his arms. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, panting and cursi
ng.

  “Nick. Wargman. Calling. Nick. Wargman. Calling.”

  “Do you have to—?”

  “Fuck. Yeah, yeah I do. He’s my— He’s Nick. I have to answer.”

  She took a ragged breath, and he was startled at the expression on her face. She looked like she might cry.

  “Sara, angel, it’s—”

  “It’s okay. I understand. You need— You need to put me down.”

  He set her gently on her feet. “Wait a second. This won’t take long.”

  “No.” She took another deep breath. “No, it’s okay. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

  She darted around him, grabbed her bra, and fled up the stairs before he could think of anything else to say.

  “Angel?”

  All he got in response was the sound of a door closing.

  Smooth, Keeton. Real smooth. When had he turned into such a dork?

  He pulled his still-intoning phone from his pocket. “Shit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh. Sorry, Nick. Didn’t realize I’d hit talk.”

  Nick Wargman chuckled. “Am I disturbing you?”

  Smart wolves didn’t tell their Alphas they were too busy to talk. Smart wolves let phone calls go to voicemail and made excuses later.

  But his little head was still drawing all the blood away from his big head, leaving his brain deoxygenated, so he replied, “Yeah, actually you are. Or were.”

  There was a shocked silence on the other end of the phone. Then Nick sucked in his breath and said, “Oh! Oh shit. Aw, hell, B, I’m sorry. You want to call me back later tonight?”

  Bryan sighed. “No. No, it’s all right. It’s my fault.”

  “You should’ve let the call go to voicemail, wolf.”

  He sighed again. “I know. What’d you need, Nick?”

  “I want to see you in the morning. You and Sara. Say ten-thirty?”

  “Sure. Sure, that’s cool. We’ll be there.” She might not be speaking to me, but I’m sure she’ll be glad to ride along.

  “Good. All right. See you the in morning. Now go get her.”

  So he did.

  She had the stupidest urge to cry. All that sexual excitement had built up, all that energy waiting to be released, and then bam! One minute he couldn’t wait to have her, the next he was dropping her for a phone call. Sure, it was from Nick Wargman, but hadn’t Bryan ever heard of voicemail?

  Behind the physical frustration was the emotional hurt, and she didn’t know what to do with either one. She wasn’t his girlfriend, wasn’t part of his real life. So when someone from his real life needed him, of course he’d push her aside to attend to them.

  She let her mind go blank, blocking out everything but the hot water, willing it to wash away the anger and embarrassment and hurt. Maybe that was why she didn’t hear Bryan part the shower curtain and step inside.

  Or maybe it was just that werewolves could move so swiftly and silently.

  Whatever the reason, she didn’t know he’d joined her ’til he laid his hands on her shoulders. She jumped, but she didn’t scream or turn around.

  He bent his head to her ear and said in a low, low voice that sent involuntary shivers coursing through her, “I’m sorry. I swear I wasn’t a moron ’til I met you. Being around you turns me into a clumsy, dumbass boot. If you want me to get out, say so now. But if you let me stay, I promise I can make it better.”

  He waited a couple of beats. When she didn’t say anything, he reached down beside her to pick up the shampoo. Next she felt his fingers working in her scalp. She closed her eyes and moaned with the pleasure of his fingers massaging her scalp and neck.

  Then he took the soap and began to wash her, gently and methodically.

  She felt his cock hardening behind her, pressing into her lower back as his big hands moved over her shoulders. When he bent to run the bar of soap over her butt and legs, he brushed a kiss across each cheek, and she actually giggled.

  As he ran the soap across her stomach, she gasped and arched against him. He paused. She leaned her head back against his chest and closed her eyes, then guided his arm up. She moaned again as one hand roamed across her breasts, gently circling, tweaking and teasing, while the other swept the soap across her skin. Jolts of fire ran from each nipple straight to her core, leaving her twitching and gasping. Water poured over her as wetness gushed between her legs.

  He’d aroused her before. She knew she liked his kisses—her flesh remembered his flesh, the heat and strength of his hands and the hard, smooth planes of his sleek body. A couple of days ago, she’d longed to give herself up to his clever, calloused fingers, to let his tongue wander all the places she wanted it to go, to treat her own hands and her own tongue to the warm, unyielding skin she’d craved since the day he’d waited forty-five minutes just to be seated in her section to order a cup of coffee.

  Maybe TJ was right. Maybe he really did want her. It wasn’t as if he had no options. A man—a werewolf—who looked like Bryan Keeton always had options.

  “Sara?”

  His hoarse whisper in her ear disturbed her reverie, but she didn’t open her eyes.

  “Sara, do you want—?”

  She guided his hand lower, parting her legs and whimpering as he dropped the soap and cupped her mound, resting his hand there. His heat poured through her, weakening her knees. Her legs threatened to buckle, so she stretched out her hands to brace against the wall.

  His mouth was at her neck now, tongue licking and swirling as he murmured words she couldn’t understand and didn’t need to. She could hardly breathe as she began to grind against the heel of his hand and his fingers began to swirl around her aching clit.

  “Slower,” she murmured, guiding his hand. “That’s it…that’s— Oh, that’s good, that’s perfect…”

  She felt him smile against her shoulder. “I like a girl who tells me what she wants,” he whispered.

  A drowsy kind of energy seeped in to replace the exhaustion as her keyed up, stressed-out body sensed release in the offing.

  Leaning forward at the waist, she pressed her breasts toward the tile, her legs spread over the faucet and open to him. She was so enchanted with the one hand working its magic between her folds, she gasped when his other hand dipped between her legs from the back, two long fingers suddenly moving deep inside her.

  She cried out with a keening, restless need. “Don’t stop. Bryan, please don’t stop.”

  “Never. That’s good—move for me, just like— Fuck, that’s sweet. You feel so good. Hold it, tight, like— Yes, that’s it.”

  “Harder!” she gasped. “Please. I’m gonna come, I—”

  “I know. I want to hear you.” He leaned forward to nip her shoulder, sucking at the water pouring off her as his fingers plunged in and out, faster and faster. His fingers stroked her clit until her hips were thrusting in a frenzy. Urgent pleasure and fiery need crashed through her in waves, one atop another, higher and higher until they crested and she went under, screaming his name.

  Bryan turned her around and she grabbed his shoulders for support, because her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. But he could.

  With a growl he grabbed her ass and picked her up, pressing her back against the long wall of the bathtub. She locked her legs behind his back, like she’d done in the kitchen, but this was better—so much better. With a harsh cry she arched against the wall as his cock slammed into her. Before she had time to catch her breath, he began to thrust. He held her up high, like she weighed nothing at all, and the angle was perfect, the rigid length of him pounding all the way into her, hard and fast and so, so deep, and she loved it. She loved the way he filled her, the way his fingers gripped her ass and held her tight against him, the hard muscles of his shoulders and back beneath her nails, his hot mouth sucking at her breasts as the water sluiced between them.

  She grabbed a handful of hair at the base of his neck and yanked his head back.

  “Your eyes,” he panted, “they’re glittering. Go
d, you’re beautiful.”

  She crushed his mouth with hers, driving her tongue between his teeth, smiling against his lips as he moaned into her mouth. He was pounding into her harder and faster, like he was going to push her through the wall, and she bucked against him, meeting his every thrust as hard as she could, digging her heels into his ass to keep him even tighter inside her.

  When he started to shake in her arms, she tore her mouth away to whisper in his ear, “Are you coming?”

  “Yes,” he growled in a voice lower and harsher than she’d ever heard from him, and she shivered at the power and the heat of the wolf inside her. The knowledge of what she was doing to him drove her exhausted delirium, and she cried out, amazed to find she was going to come again.

  He climaxed with a harsh roar, one last mighty thrust pinning her to the wall, and she wailed with her own release. He rested his head against her shoulder, still holding her tight. She sagged against him, wet hair plastered to her face, every bit of energy gone in that last instant.

  He lifted his head to gaze at her. She tried to open her eyes all the way and couldn’t quite make it.

  “I liked that,” she mumbled.

  “Me too, angel.” He nuzzled her throat. “But I think I wore you out.”

  “Nah. I could do it again.”

  His shout of laughter roused her from her stupor long enough for him to stand her on her feet. He stepped out of the tub, and then he lifted her out.

  “Come here.” He boosted her up onto the bathroom counter and began to dry her off, just as he had in Luxor.

  “It’s okay,” she protested. “I can do it…”

  Bryan kept drying, lingering between her legs, laughing when she softly slapped him on the shoulder.

  “I gotta dry my hair,” she slurred. “Look awful when I sleep on wet hair.”

  “You can’t look awful.”

  He waited long enough for her to drag a comb through her towel-dried tresses, and then she let him carry her to his bedroom. She never slept naked, but she was too tired and, now that he was spooning her close, too cozy to get up and put something on.