“You’re forgiven, Mike,” she said, shuffling the bloody towels to her other arm.
Wolfe sat back and crossed his arms. It was that easy? What the heck was happening, and what did good ol’ Mike do in the first place?
Even Mike seemed taken aback. “Well, okay. Thanks, then. When can we get together?”
Dana drew air in through her nose. “Never. You’re forgiven and all of that, but I’m not going back. So please move on and stop calling me.”
“Now that’s just silly,” Mike said, his voice turning charming. “I’m going to be at Sally’s wedding next weekend, and she wouldn’t have invited me if there wasn’t still a chance for us. Maybe I can finally meet your parents.”
Pink bloomed across Dana’s cheekbones. “Sally invited you because she doesn’t like me but loves drama. Don’t come.” At Wolfe’s raised eyebrows, her own rose. “Or come, if you want, but you have to know that I’m going to be busy and have no intention of going out with you again. Though I do wish you well.” The last was said on a rush.
Mike’s chuckle was like bone scraping bone. “Come on, Dana. You have to at least save me a dance.”
“No, she really doesn’t,” Wolfe said quietly. “Believe me. Her date won’t like it.”
Dana’s lips snapped together, and she whirled on him. “You just couldn’t be quiet, could you? Everything was going fine, and I was handling it, but you just couldn’t sit there.”
“Sorry,” Wolfe said, totally not sorry.
“Why do you do that?” She waved her free hand through the air. “You act like a boyfriend, but you’re not. You try to take over, but you know you shouldn’t.” The pink in her face blossomed into a lovely rose.
Wolfe uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, his own temper still barely banked. “I’m acting like a friend who doesn’t appreciate this asshat bugging you. Apparently, your attempts to ignore him haven’t worked, and I feel like taking a different tack. It’s a free world, you know.”
She sucked in air, her eyes widening. “My world is my world, and when I want your help, I’ll freakin’ ask for it.” Anger turned her stunning eyes a fascinating emerald.
“Um, excuse me?” Mike snapped through the phone line. “Who the hell is this?”
Wolfe and Dana both turned toward the phone on the table. Wolfe had forgotten the jerk for a moment. “Name is Wolfe and I’ll be Dana’s date for the wedding.” He knew he was pushing it, but no way would he leave Dana alone to fend off this guy. Plus, food at weddings was usually delicious and there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for cake.
Dana sucked in air. “You’re crazy.”
“Probably,” he agreed. “Head injury makes a good excuse.”
Mike cleared his throat. “Uh, Dana? Are you in danger there with a guy with a head injury who thinks he’s a wolf? Should I call the police?”
Dana rolled her eyes so hard she had to have seen part of her brain. “I am not in danger and, yes, this guy is nuts, and frankly I believe he might be more wolf than man.” She tossed the bloody towels onto the table and lifted her chin. “I have not asked you to be my date.”
Wolfe stood then, gratified when she took a step back. “You don’t think I could get you to ask me?” His voice was grittier than he liked.
She visibly swallowed, tilting her head to meet his gaze. She was a good five-foot-eight, but he was over six-six, so there wasn’t much else the pretty woman could do. Except reach over and disengage the call, cutting Mike out of the equation completely. “If we’re going to have this fight, I don’t need a witness.”
“I like cake,” Wolfe returned.
Her chin lowered. “Don’t try to be cute with me, Clarence.”
He barely kept from wincing. The world had gotten way too out of control, and he couldn’t escape the sense of panic he’d felt when Malcolm had been injured. It had been Wolfe’s fault. Besides that, Dana’s orange blossom scent was too tempting in the small kitchen. “Okay. I need some alone time, and then we can argue about where you’re staying the night tonight.” Without waiting for a response, he strode into his office and shut the door, facing his whiteboard.
The dead stared back at him.
Chapter Ten
Dana finished typing more notes, sitting at Wolfe’s kitchen table and purposely ignoring the email from her cousin about the wedding. Why did the bridesmaids have to be ready for pictures five hours before the wedding? She looked, once again, toward the closed door of Wolfe’s office. He’d disappeared inside hours ago, obviously needing some time by himself, but darkness was beginning to fall, and she was hungry for dinner.
Should she just rummage in the fridge? After being ignored all day, searching through Wolfe’s stuff held little appeal.
He’d almost been shot—again. She’d been kidnapped, cut, and then right when life had started to normalize, she’d been shot at and chased by guys in a truck who’d wanted to hurt her. Life was too short to wait on the sidelines. She was done waiting.
Enough of this. Shutting her laptop, she stood and stretched her back, gathering her courage. Then she walked past the sofa. Kat looked up, blinked his eyes, and meowed softly as if in warning.
She frowned. That was odd. “I’m talking to him,” she said to the cat, feeling only a little silly as she moved forward and reached the office door. Her knock was more forceful than she’d intended, and she winced.
Nothing.
She pressed her ear to the door.
No sound.
Huh. Had Wolfe somehow left when she had been in the bathroom earlier? She twisted the knob and stepped inside, her steps faltering on the soft carpet.
Wolfe sat with his back to her, facing the whiteboard, his gaze seemingly directed at the photograph of the smiling young soldiers. His shoulders were rigid and his body unmoving. Tension cloaked him, erecting an invisible barrier that electrified the air around him.
Her mouth opened and closed. A chill slid down her back, and she hunched a little, her instincts blaring for her to run.
How long had he sat in that position? All day?
That couldn’t be healthy. She swallowed over a lump in her throat and edged closer to him, reaching out with one shaking hand.
“Don’t.” His gravelly voice was a stark warning.
She paused and her lip trembled. Her lungs filled with something other than air, something akin to panic, and she breathed shallowly. Too shallowly.
“Go, Dana.” His stillness was nearly preternatural.
She should go. Run and leave him to this . . . whatever this was. But she couldn’t. Why, she’d figure out later. “Clarence.” Fighting every biological survival instinct stamped into her DNA, she reached out and set a hand on his rigid shoulder.
When he didn’t jump and bite off her arm, she settled closer, everything inside her wanting to comfort him. A hint of the wild emanated from him—primitive and dangerous. There was no doubt Wolfe was as dangerous as a man got, but he was hurting, and she’d never been able to turn away from an animal in pain.
Especially this one.
Her other hand settled on his other shoulder, and she bit back a grimace at the hard knots against her palms. His head had to be killing him. If there were words for her to offer, she couldn’t think of them. Instead, she began to knead the roped muscles beneath her palms, digging deep with her thumbs, finally giving herself permission to touch him.
She worked some of the tension out of his neck, her own body aching in response. He held perfectly still, his hands on his jean-clad legs, the arm bandage stark against his tanned skin. For one fraction of a second, his shoulders relaxed. “What are you doing?” he rumbled.
“Providing comfort.”
He stiffened again and, without warning, planted a hand over hers, drawing her in front of him.
She reluctantly released his shoulders and stood between his legs, looking into his hard face, feeling unbalanced and warm. Intimacy surrounded them. “Wolfe?”
“I don’t want comfort
.” He tipped his head back, his eyes a tumultuous brown.
She’d never seen anybody more in need of comfort than Clarence Wolfe. “Why not? Everyone needs comfort.”
“Don’t want it and don’t need it,” he said, the sides of his thighs bracketing hers, giving her a feeling of being trapped. The look on his face and the tone of his voice were all the more frightening for the lack of feeling in them.
She couldn’t reach him. This was something new, something scary, and she didn’t know what to do. So she grasped the sides of his shoulders and leaned in to press a kiss to his nose, just like her dad had always done for her when she’d felt lost.
Wolfe sucked in a breath, his eyes narrowing and finally focusing on her. He was back. Temptation lurked there and something darker . . . something deeper. A glint—raw and male—zeroing in on just her. All of her.
Words died in her throat. She couldn’t move, held in place by that look and his hard body.
His gaze dropped to her breasts.
Honest to God, they started to tingle. She still couldn’t breathe, and her adrenaline was flowing as if she’d run ten miles being chased by a grizzly bear.
His hands, rough and calloused, warm and firm, slid up her arms.
This was wrong. Not fair. He’d been in a bad place, he’d been vulnerable, and she would be taking advantage if she let this go where it was headed. Well, where she kind of hoped it was headed. She couldn’t do that to him. So she started to step back.
And was shocked when his thighs clamped against hers, easily holding her in place. His hands slid to her wrists and tugged her down, flattening her palms on his incredibly hard legs, partially bending her toward him. “Wh-what are you doing?” she whispered.
For answer, his gaze lifted to her lips and then her eyes. His hands flattened over hers and slid them up his thighs. “You are not listening to me, Dana.”
“I think you’re wrong,” she said quietly, keeping her balance while she bent toward him. “You do need comfort, and sitting here all day staring at these pictures is not good for you. I might not be a shrink, but even I know that much about the demons that haunt people.”
“You have no idea.”
“Oh yeah?” There was no denying the attraction she felt toward him, and she was tired of trying. She leaned closer, gratified by the way his eyelids lowered to hide his surprise. Oh, she could read him, whether he liked it or not. “I’m tired of the friend zone, Wolfe. I’m breaking the caution tape.” As she said the words, they felt right. Finally.
His shoulder jerked. “Excuse me?”
“I want you.” There was no reason to lie, considering she was having trouble breathing and her hardened nipples were clearly outlined beneath her shirt.
The hardness of his face contrasted with the hot liquid glide of lust that darkened his deep eyes. “I’m not just trying to keep you safe. Some of it, maybe most of it, is that I can’t be distracted from what I have to do and who I have to be to take Rock on. I’m all in on this fight, and there can’t be anything else in my life right now. Anybody else.”
Honesty was sometimes a pain in the butt. “So I’m a distraction?” The idea warmed her even more.
“Hell, yes.” Frustration coated his words.
Good enough. She leaned even closer, until her nose almost touched his. “I don’t want forever, and I don’t want a white picket fence.” Not right now, anyway. “I want you, and you want me, and the way we’re going, one of us will probably be shot within the week. So, why not?”
“Not a good idea.” His nostrils flared and he almost vibrated with tension. “You wanting to provide comfort with your body.”
Was that judgment in his tone? “No. I want an orgasm,” she snapped. Now she was both turned on and pissed off. “Unless you’re incapable of providing one.”
His eyelids lifted, his gaze glittering.
Oh. Oops. Well. She should say something, but all sound died in her throat. Her lungs froze, much smarter than her brain. Challenging Wolfe was a mistake she’d never made. Until now.
“You want to take that back?” he rumbled, one eyebrow lifting.
The memory of how quickly he’d picked her up and headed for that bar the other night sent heated air into her lungs. “No.” Her voice wavered, but her gaze remained on his. “If you’re not up to it, just let me know.”
Yep. She had completely lost her mind.
“You think I’m that easy to manipulate?” His voice remained steady, but the tension rolling from him choked the space between them.
“I think you’re as tired as I am of fighting this, whatever it is, that’s between us.” Her hands were still on his legs and she dug in with her nails. “Come on, Wolfe. You know you want it.” She let her voice lower to a croon. While she’d never been a temptress, she was enjoying this. If one of them didn’t make a move, they’d both go to bed alone, sleepless, and unsatisfied. “We should enjoy life while we have it.” Unfortunately, a true statement.
“Nothing is going to happen to you.” He growled the words, his hands lifting to her hips, heated and firm. His fingers flexed, hinting at restrained strength. Ruthlessly controlled power. “I’ve been as honest as I can be. I can’t promise you a damn thing, but I’m done pushing you away. You sure about this?”
Anticipation licked through her as if she were at the start of a race, right before the bell rang and the gate swung open to free the horses. “I’m sure.”
He stood and lifted her at the same time, tossing her over his shoulder. She landed with a muffled oof, laughing and trying to shove her hair out of her face. This side of Wolfe was new, and her body felt electrified, the shoulder beneath her stomach solid rock.
She might have taken on more than she could handle.
He strode into the kitchen, reached for the whipped-cream can still on the table, tossed it in the air, caught it, and headed toward his bedroom, his steps even and sure, his strides long and purposeful.
“Whipped cream?” she gasped, the blood rushing to her face as she turned her head to the side to breathe, her cheek resting against his broad back.
“We’re gonna make a sweet memory,” he murmured, reaching the bedroom and kicking the door closed with the back of one foot. It slammed shut, the sound amplified by her too-aware body and mind. He flipped her over, then stood, towering over her with heat and strength, his gaze hungry and a mite intimidating. “Take off your shirt.”
There was only one possible answer. “No.”
His slow smile awoke every girly part she had. “We’re doin’ this my way, green eyes.”
She bit her lip, contemplating his rock-solid body. “Who says?”
“Well?” He shook the whipped cream can. “Is this going to end up with me inside you, probably covered in sugar, making you scream my name?”
“Hopefully,” she croaked, her knees wobbling. Had she ever been this aroused?
“Then it’s my way.” His smile widened, giving him a boyish look she’d never seen on him before. Her heart just flipped right over and submitted. He finished shaking the can. “Now. This is going on you. That’s a pretty shirt, and I’d hate to get it messy. You have two seconds to take it off.”
Humor bubbled through her arousal, torturing her. “Fine.” But she wasn’t going to make it easy on him. Keeping his gaze, she slowly, very slowly, released each button, her breath catching as his smile disappeared and he looked even hungrier. “You look like a wolf about to eat,” she whispered, dropping the shirt and revealing her white lacy bra.
“I am a wolf about to eat.” He ran a knuckle along the tops of her breasts, his breath catching, his gaze heating even more. A smooth flick of his fingers released the front clasp, and the bra, too, dropped out of existence. Then he sprayed her, over her breasts, causing flecks of whipped cream to pepper her face.
She laughed, protesting. “Wolfe—”
His head dropped, and his mouth found her breast. Heat surrounded her, and he sucked. She gasped, her hands instinctiv
ely clutching his shoulders so she didn’t fall. It figured Wolfe would go all in with no hesitation. He licked the other breast with a happy hum and then lifted up, his mouth taking hers.
Wolfe didn’t kiss—he consumed. A sharp nip to her lip made her gasp, and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping in, tasting like whipped cream and spice. The demanding thrust of his tongue was accompanied by both hands on her breasts, the whipped cream letting him slide tantalizingly over her skin with a hint of bite.
She moaned and yanked on his shirt so he’d duck his head and let her toss it free. A sigh escaped her, into his mouth, when she finally settled her hands on that solid torso. Frantically, she caressed each bullet hole, knife wound, and ripped muscle.
He overwhelmed her, and she grasped his jeans, unzipping them.
Releasing her mouth, he ran his slippery palms down her arms and then gracefully dropped to his knees.
She protested, her hands now over his shoulders.
“Dana.” One word from him had her growing still. His hands were sure and gentle as he tugged down her yoga pants and panties, cool air brushing her skin.
He froze.
She blinked. Oh, crap. She’d forgotten. Caught up in his seduction, she’d completely forgotten the marks still on her upper thighs from the crazy senator and his sharp knife.
Wolfe jerked as if he’d been punched in the gut. Gingerly, he reached out and rubbed a gentle finger along one of the many still healing cuts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She tried to concentrate. “I didn’t want you to kill him.” It was the truth. “You saved me before he could do any more damage.”
“I would’ve killed him.” Wolfe glanced up, looking dangerous and big, even on his knees.
Yeah, she knew.
“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward and kissed each mark with a gentleness that nearly undid her. “These will heal. And I’ll make you forget.” The whipped cream suddenly sprayed across her lower part, and his mouth found her right where she ached for him.
“Jesus, Wolfe.” Fire lanced through her, and her thighs trembled. She grasped his shoulders, trying for balance.
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