Falling for the Billionaire Wolf and His Baby

by Sasha Summers

  He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips.

  Her nails dug into his skin, her breath escaping on a tight hiss.

  He slid deep, her body stretching to accommodate him.

  “Finn.” His name. His Jessa. His mate.

  Something shifted inside him, chipping away at the wall around his heart, the isolation he’d used to stay strong. No more. His heart and that of his wolf’s aligned, beating as one. A sharp pain sliced through is chest, his lungs convulsing so tightly he could not move or think or breathe. The scar at his side was on fire, throbbing. The wound felt new, agonizingly raw. He curled in on himself, grinding his teeth against the remembered tear of bone into flesh. For an instant, he froze, struggling to stay upright as his gaze bored into Jessa’s.

  She moaned, her hands tightening on his arms. “Finn?” It was a broken whisper.

  He drove into her, the pain easing the more he moved. The more he moved, the more she responded. Her hands slid up his arms, running over his shoulders. Her nails raked his back and buttocks, pushing him on. Her head fell back, her eyes closing.

  “Look at me, Jessa,” he murmured. He heard the command in his voice, knew she heard it, too. Her green eyes fluttered open. It was more than this overwhelming drive to join her body. In her eyes, he saw the acceptance of their bond. That she wanted this. That she wanted him. He could feel the rapid beat of her pulse, her body constricting tightly around him. Her breathing was shallow, almost panting. He wasn’t the only one drowning in this. And it felt right.

  He bent, dropping a kiss against her lips, leaning into the touch of her hand on his cheek. He moved with a frenzy he didn’t understand. He didn’t want to hurt her, but there was no easing the wolf. Groaning, he cradled her face between his hands, and kissed her.

  She stared up at him, the need in her gaze shameless.

  His hand slipped between them, his thumb sliding over the tight nub. He stroked the smooth flesh, smiling at the high-pitched whimper she made. He watched her face, her parted lips, the slight crease between her brows. His lips latched onto her nipple, tongue and teeth working the hardened peak until her hands fisted in his hair. He didn’t stop until he felt her climax, the rhythmic clamping of her body constricting around his rock-hard erection.

  He arched into her, wanting more, to be deeper. To leave her, even a fraction of an inch, drove the wolf into a frenzy. He thrust deep, mindless, seeking, burning. His heart clenched, gripped in an unseen vice. His release slammed into him, forcing a cry from his lungs—from deep inside. He braced himself over her as wave after wave of pleasure and pain wracked his body.

  She held on to him, her soft hands clinging to his sides, sliding to his hips. As the fog of release cleared, his heart pumped frantically.

  Only then did he realize what he’d done. They were mated, his wolf was happy, but he’d lost total control. And, for the first time in his life, he’d had sex without a condom.

  …

  Jessa couldn’t move. Her heart was pounding, her lungs were scrambling for air, and every cell was processing what had just happened. She hadn’t known what to expect, if it would be different for her. Yes, she’d picked Finn as her partner, her mate, but she wasn’t a wolf. She didn’t know what, exactly, would happen. If anything. But different wasn’t the right word. Never in her life had she experienced anything like that.

  “Jessa?” Finn’s voice was low, soft.

  She opened her eyes. He was beautiful, braced over her, breathing hard. She hadn’t expected to know, with absolute confidence, that he was hers. “Hi.”

  He grinned, dropping onto his elbows to kiss her. She welcomed the kiss, her hands sliding up his back to hold him close. But then she lifted her hands, remembering his reaction to her touch earlier.

  “Touch me,” he said against her lips.

  She smiled.

  He pulled back, his gaze searching hers.

  “I thought it hurt you,” she explained.

  He shook his head. “Not now.”

  “But it did before?” she asked, running her hands up his back. Her eyes widened. “Because you were fighting me?”

  He closed his eyes, arching into her touch. His gaze met hers. “No more.”

  She nodded. “No more.”

  He kissed her again, his mouth soft, teasing. His breath fanned across her cheek, stirring a response she’d been sure he’d exhausted. But she wanted him now even more. Until the pain started.

  She gasped, clutching at her side.

  “Jessa?”

  She pushed at him, needing air, needing to curl tight and cover her side.

  “What’s wrong?” He was desperate, his hands smoothing the hair from her face.

  “I don’t know,” she hissed, the agony blinding her to everything. She curled into herself, pressing her hands to her side, but she couldn’t escape the pain. “Oh God, Finn.” She buried her face in her pillow, terrified she’d scream. What was happening? And how the hell could she make it stop?

  Finn’s hands were on her, the sweet agony of his touch making her cry out again. He pulled her into his lap, pressing her close. “Jessa,” his finger tipped her face back. “What is it? Please tell me.” His seemed voice faint.

  She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. The tearing in her side was a pain she’d never experienced. Beyond the pain, there was recognition—as if memories she’d long forgotten suddenly reappeared. They were faint, hints of things that were completely foreign yet oddly familiar. And it scared her. Violence. Fear.

  So much pain.

  She was vaguely aware of moving. Of voices. Of crying out when someone touched her side. Finn touched her then, she knew it was him. His touch eased the pain instantly.

  “I’m sorry, Jessa.” She felt his hand on her forehead and turned toward his whispered words. “This is my fault.”

  How was it his fault?

  None of this was his fault. When she could talk, she’d tell him.

  But the darkness closed in on her, and Finn faded away.

  She dreamed.

  For so long, she was walking in the dark.

  Wolves came, lots of them—following her. And she wasn’t afraid. Until a large white wolf came. Cyrus. She ran and ran. Finn was there. Finn as a wolf. He was big, his brown coat dusted with snow as he circled her. His blue eyes were the same, watching her with such intensity she knew she was safe. But when she followed Finn through the woods, she lost him. Somehow, she ended up at her house. Thomas was having dinner with her brothers. Thomas, with long teeth and wild eyes. She pounded on the windows but they didn’t hear her. Thomas did. Time seemed to slow, her brothers and sister moving in slow motion. She saw the look on his face, the way he smiled at her before he attacked her brothers. There was nothing she could do but scream.

  “Jessa?” It was Finn’s voice. “Please wake up.” She heard the anguish in his voice but couldn’t open her eyes.

  Chapter Ten

  It took a lot of effort to pry her eyes open. How she’d become so trapped in sleep, she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t shake it off. Her eyes were all but glued shut, and her body felt weighed down by a ton of bricks—centered on her extremely sore side. The more awake she was, the more vivid the pain. She pressed a hand against her side, startled by the uneven skin.

  She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sunlight that spilled into the room.

  Oscar?

  She sat up quickly. “Shit,” she hissed, pressing her hand to her side. She was naked. She pushed the sheets down, revealing a scar. What the hell had happened? She and Finn… She was flooded with warmth. He hadn’t hurt her. So how had this happened?

  She stood, favoring her side, and moved to the crib.

  No Oscar. But here at the refuge, they were safe. Finn must have him. Knowing that eased her worry. She hobbled into the bathroom, turned on the lights, and stared at her reflection. The scar resembled a puncture wound, with fine thin, lines radiating out, like a starburst.

  Exactly like Finn’s
.

  She turned, seeing an almost identical scar on her back. Her fingers lightly traced along the hyper-sensitized flesh, marveling. He’d marked her, irrefutably. And she liked it. Even if it hurt like hell. She leaned against the counter, unsteady on her feet. She slowly brushed her teeth before turning on the shower.

  The waterfall shower was heaven. She braced her hands on the wall, letting the hot water ease her stiff side. The more relaxed she was, the more memories surfaced. Finn. His eyes. The feel of him inside her. She ached, the craving so overwhelming she leaned against the wall.

  Washing her hair was hard work. Her side ached miserably, so she did the best she could, resting now and again.

  “Need help?” Finn’s voice.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I think I’ve got it,” she answered, smiling.

  “You’re weak.” His hand rested on her belly as his chest pressed against her back. “I would have helped you.”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him, the thrill of his touch on her skin electric. She shuddered, hissing at the pull on her side.

  “You’re hurting.” His fingers traced the scar on her back. “I’m sorry.”

  She turned in his hold. “About?”

  “Scarring you.” His hands clasped her face.

  She shook her head, smiling at him. “No one can doubt I’m yours now.”

  His jaw tightened before he eased her close. His forehead rested against hers. “You wouldn’t wake up,” he murmured. “You were hurting.”

  “I’m fine,” she repeated.

  He tilted her head back, searching her face with his clear blue gaze. She swallowed, reeling from the possessiveness on his face. “I wasn’t,” he said. “I can’t see you hurting. I can’t.” The last word was a growl.

  She kissed him, standing on tiptoe to twine her arms around his neck. It didn’t matter if it hurt her side; he needed comfort, and she needed to give it to him. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

  “Eleven hours.”

  And just like that her scar—all her aches and pains—seemed unimportant.

  Tonight was the full moon. “Where’s Oscar?” she asked, the tightness in her throat pinching her voice.

  Finn’s gaze met hers. “He’s with his uncles. He’s in good hands.”

  But that didn’t ease the flare of panic she felt. “Tonight?”

  He nodded.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  “Stay with him.” He kissed her, his jaw tightening before he added. “I can’t stop the change—”

  “I know.” She nodded. She’d be alone with a house full of wolves. And Oscar. “Is…is there anything I can do to help him? If he needs help?”

  He shook his head. “If it happens, there’s nothing any of us can do.”

  She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to his. “I’m scared.”

  His arms tightened around her. “He’ll be okay. He’s my son.”

  She nodded, wanting to believe him.

  “You need to eat,” he said, reaching around her to turn off the shower. “And clothes.”

  She followed him from the shower, letting him dry her with a fluffy black towel. He knelt, gently stroking the scar on her back with his fingers. Then her stomach. He kissed the scar, resting his head on her stomach. “I didn’t know.”

  “I know.” She ran her fingers through his wet hair. “Would it have changed anything?”

  He looked up at her, the hunger in his eyes instantly igniting her need. “Maybe…”

  She frowned, staring down at him. “Finn—”

  “I can’t hurt you.” The edge to his voice was sharp, insistent…and wonderful. He cared about her, deeply. She felt it. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze feasting on her bare body.

  She smiled. “So are you.”

  “I want you.” The rasp in his voice made her quiver. “I need you.” His hand pressed over the thatch of hair between her legs. His nose traced the inside of her thigh, his breath a caress on her skin. Her hands gripped his shoulders, holding herself up as she arched into his touch. But the pain in her side caught her by surprise, white-hot and searing. She froze, her hand clapping over the scar and muffling her whimper.

  He was up, swinging her into his arms when she would have crumpled. “Jessa? Shit,” he growled. “Dammit.”

  She wanted to tell him she was okay, but it hurt too much to form a coherent sentence. When he lay her on the bed, she grabbed his hand and pressed it against the scar.

  “Wait,” she whispered, his touch easing the pain.

  He stared at her, concern creasing his forehead. “This helps?” he asked.

  She nodded, letting his warmth seep into her. It did. If it were possible, she’d think his touch was healing her from the inside. Beneath his hand, she felt stronger, the pain reduced to a dull ache.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, his palm all but glued to her side. The other stroked her wet hair from her face, his fingers tracing her temple and jaw. His eyes burned with something. Not hunger or passion but anger…and maybe, regret. She didn’t like the way he seemed to withdraw from her, even with his hand on her body.

  “Finn, stop,” she said.

  When he would have lifted his hand, she held it in place.

  “Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking,” she said.

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Now you know what I’m thinking?”

  She shook her head. “Not exactly. But I don’t want to see…regret on your face when you look at me.”

  He blew out a long breath. “I did this to you.”

  “I will heal,” she argued.

  He shook his head. “Nothing will ever be the same, Jessa.”

  “I know.” She sat up slowly, letting go of his hand. “But I have you. And Oscar. So, everything is better.”

  He stared down at her, his expression unreadable. He turned, pulling some long john pants and one of his flannel shirts from a dresser, offering them to her.

  She buried her face in them. “They smell like you.”

  He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Come on.” The words were hoarse. “You need to eat. And Oscar misses you.”

  She let him help her get dressed. She was already feeling better, but there was no denying she was tender. When she was dressed and she’d run a comb through her hair, she turned to find Finn frowning at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re too distracting.”

  She smiled. “It’s a bad thing that you find me distracting?”

  He gripped her shoulders in his hands. “I don’t want anyone else to feel this way about you.” His face hardened. “I don’t think I’d handle it well.”

  She shook her head. “I’m yours.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Knowing that should help, maybe?” she asked, curious about this new, territorial Finn.

  He shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

  …

  He kept her hand in his. He felt more vulnerable now than before he’d claimed her. Touching her seemed to help. So, he kept touching her. He’d only left her to take Oscar to Anders. She needed sleep. He needed her. And Oscar needed a bottle. Anders had taken his son with a wink and a smile. But he’d come back to wake her, to take care of her, and she hadn’t been in bed.

  He’d panicked.

  Watching his scar mar her smooth skin had been a nightmare. It wasn’t enough that he’d claimed her, now his mark was on her skin. He wouldn’t have blamed her for running. It was the wolf that calmed him down. The wolf knew she’d never leave.

  Instead, she’d held him close, let him come apart in her arms, and smiled over the scar. She liked being marked by him. And it filled him with pride to know it.

  And shame. He should have told her about the condom, should admit there might be more to worry about. But he couldn’t, not yet. Tomorrow, after the moon, he’d lay it all out there and they’d face it together.

  “He’s gone
through like four bottles,” Anders said as they walked into the great room.

  “Four?” Jessa took Oscar, concerned. She ran her hand across Oscar’s forehead and stomach. “Diapers?” Finn followed her, standing at her side, needing her close.

  “He’s filled a few,” Anders added. “It’s like he’s getting ready for winter or something.”

  Jessa’s gaze flew to his.

  “Or something,” Dante said.

  “We suspected as much.” Hollis shrugged. “Theoretically, it won’t hurt him like it does the three of you. He’s an infant. His bones aren’t fused into place, and he’s limber. Yes, he will feel pain, but he’ll come through it okay.”

  Jessa bounced Oscar in her arms, her anxiety reaching him.

  “He’s eaten considerably more than an infant his age. No throwing up, no excessive bowel movements. And he’s been wide awake. I’d say he senses a change coming,” Hollis looked at Finn.

  Finn’s arm slipped around Jessa’s waist. “Then we wait and see. You’ll stay close?” he asked.

  Hollis nodded. “If I’m able.”

  “I thought… Don’t you all change?” Jessa asked.

  “Hollis has never been a wolf,” Finn said.

  She glanced at each of them. “But you said—”

  “Oh, he bit all of us,” Anders said. “Left Dante here almost without an arm.”

  He had very few memories of that day. Snippets of the attack. Sounds, tastes, smells… He’d been beyond control. They all had when they’d changed the first time. He’d seen the scar on Dante’s arm, knew it had forced Dante’s first change to last a week—just so his body could heal.

  Finn glanced at Oscar, staring up at Jessa. Would she be safe tonight? Or should he make Hollis watch over Oscar? As much as he wanted to believe Oscar wasn’t a threat to Jessa, there were no guarantees. He couldn’t risk losing both of them.

  “I have a heart arrhythmia. I believe it makes the change dormant,” Hollis said. “I carry the infection. My blood is just like theirs under a microscope. Instead of turning into a wolf, I run a fever, suffer chest pain and shortness of breath, throw up blood, pass-out, and generally feel like hell for twenty-four to thirty-six hours.”