by Eve Langlais
He’d smelled the yeasty sour dough when he walked in the place. Probably it and all the soup spices that had made him miss her scent at first. Now that he’d caught it, though, it wrapped around him like a sensual fog and he couldn’t shake it.
And didn’t want to.
He took the bag and nodded his thanks. “How much do I owe you?”
She shook her head and gave him a sad little half–smile. “Nothing. For old time’s sake.” She shifted from foot to foot and glanced out the window over his shoulder, her brows drawing into a frown. “You should probably go, though. It’s really coming down out there now.”
He followed her gaze and offered her a clipped nod, knowing she was right, but also knowing that, once he walked out the door, he’d have no good excuse to see her again. “Thanks for the soup. And again, I apologize for the surprise visit. It won’t happen again.”
There was no mistaking the hurt that flashed in her eyes this time, and he took an instinctive step toward her.
“That’s definitely for the best,” she said, her tone sharper than before.
The soup was an olive branch, but that branch only extended so far. She would be polite, put a good face on it, and maybe even refrain from attacking him if they met again, but friends, they weren’t.
That was better. He wouldn’t have been able to be in the same room with her for more than thirty minutes without touching her. He didn’t even blame himself for that. It was science. Their chemistry was a force of nature, undeniable and all–consuming. Even now, his palms itched with the need to feel her skin.
“Goodbye, Klaus.”
He gave her one last, long look, burning her image into his brain. She hadn’t changed much. Still round in all the right places. Long, honey–colored hair piled on top of her head in a knot, sharp green eyes that seemed to look into his soul, and plump lips made for nipping at. Only now, she looked more confident. Gone was the easy–going girl who went with the flow. This woman looked like she was ready to kick ass and take names. If anything, it only made her more beautiful to him.
“Goodbye, Petra.”
He turned and made for the door, cursing himself for a fool with every step. What kind of asshole walked away from a woman like that?
Apparently, this kind, because you’re doing it again.
Because he had no choice. He could stick around until it was time for his father to pick his mate or tell him to go fuck himself and force Petra to choose between him and the pack.
Talk about a cluster–fuck. Nothing had changed.
He turned the knob and yanked open the heavy, walnut door. Icy air hit him like a slap and he gritted his teeth. Perfect. At least by the time he made the trek back to his cabin, he’d be a human Popsicle. Numb, hopefully from the inside out.
Because once he thawed, leaving her again was going to hurt like a motherfucker.
***
The door closed behind him with a finality that made her heart split in two. She pressed her fist against her mouth to hold back the mournful howl aching to spill from her lips.
How could that have happened? How could Klaus Maslov walk back into her life for less than fifteen minutes and re–open the tear it had taken her three years to mend?
Unable to stop herself, she crossed the room toward the window and peered out, aching for one last look at him. There would be no looking tonight, though, because a wall of white greeted her. Snow, so thick, the light from the street lamps was almost obliterated. She couldn’t see a foot beyond the window, never mind catch a glimpse of Klaus walking away.
Shit.
She made for the door, heedless of every warning bell clanging and jangling inside her. Wrenching it open, she cupped her hand to her lips and called out. “Klaus?”
There was no response and she tried a second time, pulse ratcheting up a notch as every possible terrible scenario flitted through her mind.
She’d seen a few storms like this in her lifetime, but never had she seen one brew so quickly, from zero to sixty this way. It wasn’t just a blizzard, it was a total white–out. The kind that people got disoriented and died in just yards from their homes. Granted, they were werewolves and Klaus was heartier than most, but he wasn’t impervious to hypothermia, and he damn sure wasn’t immortal.
“Klaus!” she screamed again into the bitter night, fear sending acid surging up to burn her throat.
“I’m here,” he called. Footsteps thumped up the steps and a second later, his ruddy face appeared. His black hair was already thick with snow and he shook it off with a grim smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I heard you the first time but I’d already started shifting and…”
He trailed off and gestured to his shirt. The heat of his body was already melting the snow that clung to him and his shirt hung in slushy shreds around his massive shoulders.
“It’s okay.” She stepped back to let him by, and closed the door behind him. “We’re going to have to wait it out for a while, though. Niles might not be thrilled with my new occupation, but he will be seriously pissed off at me if I let you go out there and something happens to you.”
He nodded and winced.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“Only my pride,” he admitted with a wry smile as he shook one leg. A mound of snow dropped to the floor from the bottom of his jeans. “As long as I shift, I’ll make it back to my place just fine. It’ll be cold, but I’ll manage. It’s only a few miles or so.”
Which would be nothing to him on a regular night. But a night like this?
“I can’t let you do that.” She swallowed hard and tore her gaze away from the hard expanse of his half–naked chest. “Have a seat and start on your soup. I have some Caroline’s T–shirts in the back office from our opening night last summer.”
She turned the deadbolt on the door and turned the Open sign to Closed before bolting out of the room like the devil himself was on her heels.
This whole thing felt bad. Like a cryptic omen some garishly painted mechanical gypsy would spit out on a bit of yellowing paper for a quarter at a second–rate amusement park.
You will be snowbound with the man you love more than anything in the world and can’t have.
At this point, it seemed like water–boarding would be less painful.
She shoved open the door to her postage–stamp sized office and closed the door behind her, leaning against it for support.
You’re stronger now. You can handle this.
First order of business? Get some clothes on that man before her inner wolf took the choice right out of her hands and jumped his bones.
She all but dove toward the box still half full of swag and came up with a handful of T–shirts. The first two were tank–tops which would hardly be of help, and the third was for a woman, but the last was a men’s size large. It would be tight, but at least it would cover his skin.
Taste him.
She tuned out the whispers from the basest part of her and stepped out of the office with the piece of clothing held in front of her like a shield.
“Here you go,” she called, feigning nonchalance as she tossed the T–shirt in Klaus’s general direction. Then she busied herself with the TV remote, flipping on the news.
“…to what is, by all accounts the worst storm the area has seen in fifty years. And, ladies and gentlemen, take shelter, because it shows no sign of abating,” the animated meteorologist said as he gestured to an ominous–looking map that seemed to corroborate his prediction.
She let out a squeak and changed the channel. If they got stuck here all night––
“I’ll do my best to stay out of your way,” Klaus said softly.
Reluctantly, she turned to face him, just in time to see him swish the remaining scraps of his wet shirt into the trashcan at the end of the bar.
She tried not to look. She truly did, but it was like her eyes were possessed by a demon. A shameless tart of a demon who couldn’t get her fill once she’d caught a glimpse of that naked torso. Those glorious abs
. That narrow trail of dark hair that disappeared behind the button–fly of his low–slung jeans.
She wet her suddenly dry lips and tried to form the response he was waiting for. “You’re not in my way,” she said finally.
It should’ve been fine. The content of her reply was totally innocuous.
The delivery, though? Not so much.
Her voice was hushed. Husky, even, and she had yet to tear her gaze away from his body, despite the fact that she knew he was looking at her.
“Petra?” Her name was half–groan, half–growl. A warning, but one she couldn’t bring herself to heed as she took a step toward him, as if pulled by a magnet.
“Nicklaus?” she murmured in response before taking a second step. The closer she got to him, the more her instincts overrode her brain.
The dry T–shirt was clenched in a fist at his side as a myriad of emotions played over his beautiful face. Sadness. Regret. Hope. Even fear.
But she focused on the last one. Pure, unadulterated need.
Whatever force had thrown her and Klaus together tonight, they were here now. She could bury her head in the sand and hide from him, or she could embrace it. Make the most of it. Grab it by the balls and ride it for all it was worth. Because that’s what a truly strong woman would do. She would live this day like it was her last, face her fears head on and take what she wanted.
And tonight, more than anything ever, she wanted Klaus.
Chapter Four
When Petra launched herself at him this time, it wasn’t with anger. And the second she touched him, he was lost. The warmth of her skin, and the sensation of having her in his arms again chased away the cold and suddenly, he was an inferno.
He knew he should stop this madness. Even though they were all alone here. Even though her sweet, soft mouth had just closed over his. Even though he could already feel the heat between her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist and plunged her tongue between his lips.
This was a one way trip to Painville.
He swallowed hard and tried to ignore the rush of blood surging to his cock. This wasn’t right. To let this happen and remind them both how good it had been, knowing they couldn’t be together. Knowing he couldn’t expect her to turn her back on the pack and leave with him. What kind of man would ask his woman to make a choice like that?
“Jesus––” he groaned against her mouth as the T–shirt he’d been holding dropped to the floor. He attempted to untangle her legs from his, but the second his hands came into contact with her thighs, all he could do was dig his fingers in and anchor her more tightly against his swelling groin. He was trapped there as surely as if he’d been in chains, his resolve growing weaker by the second.
She pulled away, dipping her head low to close her teeth over the cord in his neck, biting down with just enough pressure to make him wince and send another bolt of lust through him.
Christ, she hadn’t forgotten his trigger.
“You need to think this through––” he started, but then her teeth found his ear and she began to nibble even as she rolled her hips, grinding against him.
“No.” As if her touch was driving him crazy enough, that sultry whisper of hers could have brought any man to his knees.
He clenched his fingers tighter in an effort to stop himself from sliding his hands around to cup her round ass and work her over his straining erection.
She nipped his throat again and then pulled away so they were nose–to–nose.
“I’m not asking you for anything but tonight. It doesn’t have to mean anything at all.”
He opened his mouth to argue but then let it snap closed. Better not to ask for promises she couldn’t be expected to keep.
Slowly, she loosened her grip on him and slid down the front of his body until she stood before him. She traced the line of hair leading toward the waist of his jeans, and then, in one quick movement, his fly was wide open. His cock sprang forward, hard as a lead pipe and desperate for her touch.
Even in the dark, he could make out the glint of her white teeth as she let out a low hiss of pleasure.
“All for me,” she murmured, almost to herself.
He knew what she was thinking. Could feel the subtle motion of her body as she slowly drifted lower, and it was making it hard to think clearly.
She’d always loved having him in her mouth. Loved teasing and licking and sucking his cock until he strained against her, wild for release.
Memories of it assailed him and he wanted so badly to thread his fingers through her thick, honey–colored hair and guide her head as she took him deep.
“Take them off,” she muttered. But she didn’t wait for him to react. In one, smooth motion, she yanked his pants down to his ankles. He toed off his boots and kicked them aside even as she dropped to her knees in front of him.
God, give him strength.
“Get up,” he muttered, taking her by the shoulders and urging her to stand. The blood rushed in his ears, so loud, he could hardly hear himself think. “I need you naked.”
His words seemed to take a second to register, but when they did, she nodded, her little pink tongue darting out to wet her full, bottom lip.
“Okay.” She took a step back, the lights behind the bar washing her in a warm, golden glow.
“Jeans first,” he commanded, already so far gone, his voice was all grit.
Her cheeks went pink and she hesitated. “Klaus––”
“You can do it, or I can do it for you, but I’m not waiting another second to see you.”
She stared at him for a moment, sucked in a breath and reached down to unfasten her skin–tight jeans. His gaze was instantly drawn to the swell of her plump breasts straining against the deep V of her shirt as she tugged the denim down to the floor.
She straightened again, and he took a long moment to soak in the sight. All that creamy skin, the fullness of her hips, and the nefarious scrap of black lace that kept him from seeing everything she had to offer.
“Turn for me,” he said. This time, there was no hesitation. She shifted, showing him the smooth curve of her thigh, and then her back.
Need pulsed through him, raw and hot, as her ass came into view. Fuck, he could write songs about that ass. Probably had, on several drunken nights in some Caribbean bar or another. One of those torturous nights, when he missed her so bad, the only way he could get a moment’s rest was if he drank himself to sleep.
He could hear the catch of her breath as she pulled her shirt over her head, and unfastened her bra, baring her spine to him. She was so sensitive there. Would writhe beneath him when he traced his tongue down that dip and back up again.
His cock bucked at the memory and it was all he could do not press a hand to her back, sink his teeth into her nape and slide his swollen shaft deep.
But he had to make it last. Because whatever she said, he knew better.
This mattered.
To him. To her. To them. And this memory might have to last them a lifetime.
***
She should be afraid.
Hell, she should be terrified. She was standing on a precipice about to throw herself off. No net. Not parachute. Just a freefall.
But what a ride.
His smell, his taste, his voice–it was like all of it was made specifically to drive her wild, and she was tired of fighting it. Tired of missing him. Tired of the pain.
He was here now, and she was going to take advantage of every second.
She stepped toward one of the bar stools and turned to face him as she sat, tugging her panties off and tossing them aside. “You just going to stand there?”
His dark gaze went molten hot and he prowled toward her, buck naked. His body looked like it had been carved in marble, all hard angles and rippling muscles, his cock bobbing, thick and proud as he moved.
Her heart hammered wildly in her chest when he reached her and closed his big, strong hands over her knees. Their gazes locked as he spread her thighs wide to mad
e room for himself.
He tipped his head low, his mouth so close to her ear that his warm breath sent shivers down her spine. “I have plans for you, Pet,” he whispered.
Then, without another word, he popped a squat and ran his tongue along the length of her inner thigh. He started at the knee, sucking and nipping at her skin, pausing occasionally to blow cool air across the dampened flesh.
She writhed against him, already anticipating the end game, desperate to feel his mouth on her. Spearing her hands into his thick, black hair, she urged him upward.
“Please, Klaus.”
He must have heard it in her voice. Sensed how far gone she was, because he didn’t tease her or make her ask twice. Instead, he dove in like a starving man, spreading her heated flesh wide and then closing his mouth over that tight, swollen bundle of nerves, working it with his tongue.
Stars exploded behind her eyelids as every lick, every suck sent a blast of adrenaline–laced ecstasy coursing through her veins. But then, just as quickly as he’d begun, he pulled away again and started at the opposite knee.
She should’ve known better than to think he would rush. Nicklaus prided himself on being thorough.
“Don’t torture me,” she groaned.
He paused inches from her skin, and she could feel the heat of his breath as he made her wait. In and out. Hot and cold.
“You like this, as I recall,” he said at last, and then he sucked hard on her skin again and she let out a sharp gasp.
“I do, I do,” she started, but then he lapped at her core again and all rational thought gave way to blind need. Even if she’d wanted to argue with him, she couldn’t do it now. She was beyond speech.
She fisted her hands into his hair more tightly, gasping as clever fingers joined his mouth, parting her slick folds.
“Ah, so fucking wet,” he murmured against her as he pressed one digit deep into her clutching heat.
Her ass squeaked against the wooden stool as she arched her hips against him.
“So tight. I can’t wait to feel that on my cock,” he growled, pulsing his finger in and out in long, hard thrusts.