by Terry Spear
Finn pulled her back tight against his chest and moved his hand over her tank-top-covered breast, the cotton fabric sliding over the protruding nipple that was already sensitive to his touch. “Once a SEAL, always a SEAL,” he whispered against her ear. “We specialize in deep undercover operations.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?” she asked just as quietly. The way he was touching her was making her hot with desire. She was glad he seemed to have given up on being angry about Bjornolf kissing her. God, what a mistake it was to have let that slip.
“It depends entirely on what you want,” he said.
She smiled and reached back to touch his crotch and stroked his rigid length covered in the cotton boxers.
He ground out, “You are seriously asking for trouble.”
She laughed and turned around to get a better grip. But as soon as she smoothed her hand over the length of him, he ran his hands up her bare thighs, his thumbs dangerously close to the center of her, gliding over her skin and setting it afire. His eyes were smoky with lust, and his mouth curved up decadently. Here she was planning on seducing him, but the male wolf was already making her wet for him.
She only thought to have sex with him to get him out of her system so they could sleep the rest of the night without any further interruption—no emotional commitment, just pure physical sex. But she couldn’t with Finn. Not with the way he caressed her skin so tenderly, the way he pulled her down for a kiss. His mouth was gently pressing hers, questing for a response, and when she gave it to him, when she moved her mouth over his, intending the same gentle caress, he plundered her mouth roughly, belying his true feelings as if he had been holding back the storm, keeping himself in abeyance. Until she responded. Once she showed she was willing, that she wanted this as much as he did, he pulled out all the stops.
His hands slid up her waist underneath her top, cupping her breasts as he tongued her mouth, his thumbs rasping over her nipples, her core aching as she perched over his erection. She was torn between wanting him inside her and wishing consummated sex didn’t mean a mating between the werewolf kind. Although she wondered what being mated to him would be like.
She ran her hand over his hair, telling herself there was no likelihood of that, so she’d just better damn well get that notion out of her head and enjoy him like he was enjoying her. And hope that someday some alpha male would be as good at pleasuring her as Finn was. Hell, all he had to do was look askance, raise a brow a little, and give her one of his devilish grins, and she was ready to roll onto her back and beg him to ravish her.
As if he knew just what she’d been thinking, he lifted her by the waist and set her aside, at first making her think he’d had second thoughts. But he quickly pulled off her top and slid her shorts off, making her feel vulnerable. A whole lot naked. And a little wary. Worried he might be thinking of taking it too far.
But he only smiled in that arrogant way of his and then pressed himself against her, kissing and rubbing his length against her thigh, his hands deftly feeling her breasts, his mouth nuzzling her throat, and she arched her hips in response. God, how she wanted him inside!
He grumbled something about how hard she was making him. He slipped his fingers into her tight sheath, smiled when he discovered just how wet she was, and began to stroke her until she was ready to burst into flames with pleasure and only feeling slightly guilty that she’d forgotten about pleasuring him. Until he made a final thrust against her hip and she felt his shorts wet against her skin. She smiled as he thrust a couple more times, and then he made a slightly disgruntled sound.
“We’ll have to do a wash pretty soon,” she said, cupping his buttocks through the boxers.
He grunted, then kissed her forehead and slid off her, finally heading down the hall to the bathroom. She sighed, then grabbed her pajama short set and headed for the master bedroom and bath to wash up.
Finn’s assignment to watch over her was going to kill her desire for anyone else, if they didn’t quit letting the situation get out of control.
After she washed up and pulled on her shorts set, she turned and nearly had a heart attack. Finn was standing in the entryway wearing a fresh set of boxers, brows raised and arms folded across his muscular chest, and watching her grimly. “Ready to sleep?”
Something about his posture made her think he believed she was leaving him to sleep in the master bedroom because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But she’d thought maybe this was beginning to mean something to him, and he wanted her with him in bed—not just so he could watch her and keep her safe from assassins and the like.
She stalked past him and cast over her shoulder, “I wasn’t intending to sleep in the master bedroom, you know.”
“Good, because I wasn’t planning on letting you.” But his eyes and expression were darker than usual.
This time she grunted back at him. And he laughed!
Chapter 12
Meara wasn’t sure what woke her in the middle of the night while she slept with Finn in the guest bedroom, but she somehow managed to extricate herself from his arms without waking him—worn-out wolf—and got up to check out the house. She slipped her rifle out from under the bed and left the room. The house was dark and quiet except for the wind ruffling the tree branches and the waves striking the rocks and beach as her bare feet padded along the carpeted floor.
Yet something had woken—her phone. In the bathroom. She’d been so tired that she must have left her clothes in there when she’d taken her shower earlier. Her phone was in her jeans pocket underneath the rest of her things, lying on one corner of the bathroom counter.
She hurried to answer before whoever it was hung up. Just as she reached into her jeans pocket, the phone jingle quit. Typical. But when she pulled the phone out, she found the missed call was from Chris, the pack sub-leader. She worried something had gone wrong with Rourke, since Chris was tasked with baby-sitting him and would have to let her know if that was the case.
She pushed the button to redial Chris’s number. As soon as he answered, she asked, “Chris, is Rourke all right?”
For a moment, Chris didn’t say anything, and she was afraid something else was wrong and her question had thrown him.
“No,” he said in a grouchy way, reminding her how much he didn’t like Hunter having given him the baby-sitting job, even though it showed how much he trusted Chris.
“What’s wrong?” Now she was grumpy and tired, and she didn’t appreciate being woken up for nothing.
Chris’s attitude toward Rourke had irritated her, once she’d gotten over the fact that Hunter had added Rourke to the pack by accident. If she could accept Rourke, everybody in the pack should. He was a nice enough guy, and he tried damned hard to fit in, readily acknowledging that he was a werewolf once the deed had been done. At least as far as she’d seen.
“Did that Cyn Iverson get in touch with you?”
She stared at the bathroom mirror, barely seeing her disheveled appearance because her mind was trying to sort out what Chris was saying. “Cyn Iverson?” she finally asked. Instantly, she thought of the figure by the pine tree at the hotel where Anna was staying.
“Yeah, he said he’d been out of the country on a job and had just gotten back in, and he wanted to hook up with you. Once he learned you’d left California, he traced the pack here. I told him you were staying somewhere but didn’t know the exact address. He said he’d find you.”
She felt a slight chill. “How?”
“How should I know? I thought maybe you’d kept in touch with him. I have no idea who you’re seeing, or whether Hunter approves or not.”
She parted her lips, then closed them. Okay, so Chris was still irritated about her having gone out to dinner with Cyn. Hunter had chewed Chris out royally for letting her get away from him during her shopping trip to Sacramento. She hadn’t apologized to
Chris about it, either. Why should she have? She had every right to eat out with Cyn, and she wasn’t the one who had forced Chris to get hung up in a video store, perusing the merchandise.
“I’m worried about you,” Chris finally said, and this time her jaw dropped. “Hell,” he continued, “I just wanted to warn you that the guy is looking for you and—”
“Did you tell Hunter?”
“No. I figured you could. I didn’t tell the guy where you were. Hell, I don’t know where you are.”
“In a safe house. And perfectly safe. Thanks for telling me.” Now she felt bad because even though she’d speculated that Chris had a secret affection for her, he’d always acted annoyed with her because she was looking for a mate and not giving him the time of day. If he’d teased her about it, maybe, or handled it some other way, his behavior might not have irritated her so much. “Finn will keep me safe.”
Dead silence.
Was that what was eating at Chris? That he hadn’t gotten the job of protecting her? That an outsider like Finn, a good and loyal friend of Hunter’s, would get the job instead of a trusted sub-leader within the pack?
She sighed. “You’ve got your hands full, Chris. You’re doing a great job.”
“Baby-sitting Rourke, sure.” The bitterness was back.
Yeah, he was irritated all right. He had to watch over Rourke instead of protecting her.
She was going to say she’d tell Finn that the guy she had wanted to see was trying to locate her, but she thought better of it. She knew Finn would want to know all about this man, and there wasn’t anything to say about him. Besides, now that Hunter was no longer in the Navy, maybe he wouldn’t be so against her seeing the guy. Finn certainly wasn’t interested in her long-term. And all in all, she wanted a mate.
“I’m going back to bed. ’Night, Chris.”
“Meara…”
His hesitation told her he wanted to say something more. She assumed he wanted to smooth things over between them, but she wasn’t interested in him as a prospective mate. Never had been and never would be.
“’Night,” he finally said, sounding resigned. And hung up.
She’d be glad when Hunter returned home to continue mentoring Rourke. She hoped her brother didn’t plan on leaving Chris with the job because he’d be impossible to live with.
With that thought, she grabbed her clothes from the bathroom counter and wondered if Cyn had taken a room at the hotel where Anna was. It had been late, and the cabin resort would still have been an hour away. Besides, Meara would have been in bed by then. Seeing Finn with her had stopped Cyn from approaching her. She’d just bet he called the pack sub-leaders, or at least one of them, to learn if she was mated before he wasted his effort on trying to see her further.
Since Cyn was still trying to locate her, Chris must have said that Finn was staying with her to keep her out of trouble, not that he was a potential mate.
Maybe she still could see if Cyn might be her kind of wolf.
***
Meara sure as hell knew how to make him hard in a hurry, Finn thought. He had finally managed to sleep a few hours but woke wanting her again. She couldn’t know how much he’d fought the desire to haul her into his bed in the master bedroom the night before when he’d found her in the bathroom freshening up. If she’d thought to sleep in his bed, away from him, she’d have never managed it.
Daylight was dawning as he breathed in her sweet fragrance and then frowned to smell the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen. That’s what had awakened him. As light a sleeper as he was, he was fairly certain he would have noticed if the sultry siren still wrapped in his arms had awakened and left to make the coffee, even for a moment.
Intent on ensuring that the person who’d started the coffee was one of their operatives and not someone dangerous—although he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to do them harm who would brew coffee first—Finn slipped out from under Meara, trying not to disturb her slumber. He grabbed his gun off the bedside table and moved down the hall in stealth mode.
Upon reaching the dining area, he glimpsed Bjornolf watching out the back porch window, studying the ocean as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Still angered about the man kissing Meara without her permission and now breaking into the safe house without permission, Finn stormed toward Bjornolf.
He moved so quickly and silently, like a stealthy SEAL and a wolf combined, that he caught the intruder off guard. Bjornolf turned, as if suddenly aware of Finn’s approach. But Bjornolf reacted too late.
Finn’s fist smacked him in the jaw, throwing the startled deep-cover operative off balance, and he went down.
Sitting on his butt on the tile floor, his back resting against a kitchen cabinet, Bjornolf rubbed his reddening jaw and stared up at Finn. “What the hell was that for?”
“You know what the hell that was for.” Finn set his gun on the kitchen counter and poured himself a mug of coffee.
Realization apparently dawning, Bjornolf’s mouth curved up some. “She didn’t kiss me back, if that’s what you’re pissed off about. But I didn’t think she’d tell you about it.”
Bjornolf’s gaze shifted to the dining room, and Finn turned to see Meara observing the two of them, slack jawed.
She wore only that skimpy damned pajama shorts set, which was fine for Finn’s eye, but not for Bjornolf’s.
“Want some coffee?” Finn asked Meara, pulling another mug from the cupboard. He wanted to hustle her back to the bedroom to get dressed, but he figured if he made a fuss about it, he would draw Meara’s ire and no doubt earn Bjornolf’s amusement.
“Why is Bjornolf here?” she asked, her voice almost inaudible, making him suspect that she had just walked in and hadn’t seen him hit Bjornolf—or even realized Bjornolf was here at first.
“Apparently, he decided to come and make us some early-morning coffee.” Finn cast Bjornolf an irritated look.
Frowning, she asked, “Why is he sitting on the floor?”
Finn glanced down at him, and Bjornolf grinned at her as he rose to his feet, rubbing his jaw again. “Finn packs quite a punch. Seems you told him I kissed you last night in the lobby, and he was defending your honor.”
“He hit you?” She gave Finn a severe look, then set his phone on the counter and turned her attention back to Bjornolf. “Finn didn’t need to. My honor is quite intact.” Motioning to Finn’s phone, she said to him, “Anna called and said Paul had arrived safely last night. I thought you might want to know that.”
Glad that Paul and Anna could watch each other’s backs, Finn said, “Good.” He poured Meara a cup of coffee, although he still wanted her to return to the bedroom and put more clothes on. But when he handed the mug to her, she shook her head and marched past him.
“Give it to Bjornolf. I’ll drink some green tea, if they’ve got any.”
Finn silently handed Bjornolf the second cup of coffee, which he accepted with a polite nod.
Meara pulled out a box of green tea flavored with mandarin oranges. “We’re all on the same side so I expect you both to play nice.” She started a kettle of water and turned to Bjornolf. “But you really should have been more careful when you came here. You should have knocked on the front door or something first. You could have been shot sneaking into the house. At least I assume that’s what you did.”
“No place around here to get a decent cup of coffee.” Bjornolf smiled at her. “As to my getting injured? Finn’s too good at his job. He would have known it was just me.”
She eyed Finn, but he didn’t make a comment. Meara was right, he thought. He might have shot Bjornolf, but he had picked up Bjornolf’s scent as he’d drawn closer to the kitchen. Then again, the way he was feeling about Bjornolf kissing Meara, he still might have shot him, just on principle. He smiled at the thought, and Bjornolf gave him a hint of a know
ing smile in return.
Meara poured the hot water in a teacup, dipped the bag a few times, then tossed it in the trash and headed out of the kitchen without another word to them.
“Truce?” Bjornolf asked Finn before she disappeared down the hall.
Finn grunted in response.
Bjornolf eyed Meara with intrigue. When he caught Finn’s look, he raised his free hand in surrender but then said, “I’ll get her permission next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“Fat chance of that, Finn.”
Finn’s fist shot out so quickly that Bjornolf didn’t expect it this time, either. As soon as Finn’s fist connected with the man’s eye, Bjornolf dropped his coffee mug on the tile floor, breaking it and splattering the remaining coffee at his feet before he hit the counter with his backside. And grinned.
“Hell, no one told me you were a professional boxer.”
“You didn’t uncover that when you were checking up on us?” Finn asked, sipping his coffee. He wasn’t a professional boxer, but he’d had the training, which came in handy for situations just like this.
***
Meara finished dressing in a pair of khaki pants and an emerald-green tank top, leaving her feet bare. She slumped in a chair in the bedroom after hearing the sound of a mug breaking on the kitchen floor. She suspected Finn had socked Bjornolf again after telling him that next time he’d need to get permission before he kissed her. She should have objected to Finn’s treatment of Bjornolf. After all, Bjornolf hadn’t really done anything to warrant getting another fist in his face, or at least she figured that’s where Finn had aimed. Bjornolf did say he’d ask next time.
And she’d say no. He was handsome and sexy as all get out but way too smooth a talker for her. From past experience, she didn’t trust the type. On the other hand, Bjornolf had taken the punch good-humoredly the first time. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad sort after all.
She took another sip of her hot tea. Either Finn thought he was taking her brother’s place in making sure someone who wasn’t right for her didn’t take advantage of her, or he was more than jealous of Bjornolf’s attentions toward her. Taking great satisfaction in the notion that he was jealous, she smiled.