by Anna Lowe
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. And drat, it came out sounding much needier than she intended.
“Wasn’t planning to,” he whispered, pulling her hips against his.
“So what exactly were you planning?” she teased.
He pursed his lips, but his eyes gave him away. They sparked and smoldered as they took her in. Yeah, Hot Stuff wanted her, all right.
The music sped up again, and she made sure every step led them closer to the door.
“Tired of dancing?” Now he was the tease.
She let her hands slide far enough down the back of his jeans to answer. “Just ready to move this dance somewhere else. Somewhere private. Are you with me, bad boy?”
His eyes had that feral wolf glow, and he nodded once. “I think they have rooms upstairs.”
“I think I might not make it that far.”
“Good,” he said, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. “Then I get to tease you a while, too.”
Wait a minute. Teasing was her job.
But he was already pulling her along. He detoured to the bar just long enough to pick up a key to a room, then led her out the door.
“Perfect night for a—” he started.
The second they stepped into the cool night air, she hustled him against the wall and covered his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. A sloppy kiss, with her tongue and hands all over the place, caught up in a sudden craving for this man.
Want him. Need him, her wolf cried.
Her kiss was wild. Hungry. Starving, almost.
Luke’s lips moved under hers just as eagerly — but tenderly, too. It was in the way he threaded his fingers through her hair. The way his thumbs stroked her cheeks. The way his lips slowed hers down to stretch out the moment.
What bad boy had ever kissed her like this? A kiss that gave instead of taking. A kiss full of yearning and shattered dreams.
He needs us, her wolf said. And we need him.
She pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on the physical. Her body screamed for his touch, his heat. Outside. Inside.
Deep, deep inside, her wolf hummed.
A sentiment he must have read on her mind, because he growled.
She ran a hand down the hard planes of his chest and stomach to the bulge in his jeans and palmed him until he did it again. A real, bone-deep growl.
“Watch what you wish for, she-wolf.”
“Is that a warning or a promise?”
“Both.” He tipped her head to the side and started kissing her neck. Soft, hard, then soft again.
“Luke,” she whispered, clawing at his shirt.
He backed her against the wall and spread her legs with his. Nipping and licking and promising her the night of her life. He groaned her name in his mind.
Carly. Carly. Carly…
Wait. She was just imagining that, right?
“Upstairs, bad boy,” she said, grabbing him by the collar. She led him to the second floor, where they kissed and groped their way to the third room down. By the time he slammed the door closed and pinned her against it, she was panting.
“Gotta get this off,” she breathed, yanking his shirt over his head.
“This, too,” he said, smoothing his hands up her body until her shirt fluttered away.
The more layers she helped him out of, the more ink she revealed. The man had tattoos everywhere. Tribal swirls on his shoulders, jagged lightning strikes down his arms. They accentuated all that muscle, that bulk.
Within seconds, most of her clothes were strewn around the room, and her panties were down around her ankles. She kicked them off and fumbled with his jeans.
“Bye-bye, boxers,” she murmured, wondering what pattern she might uncover next.
Shouldn’t go this fast, a corner of her mind said. Shouldn’t feel so drunk with desire.
It shouldn’t feel like her first time either, but it did. The sparks shooting through her veins, the anticipation. Hunger mixed with a tiny bit of fear — the kind of fear that went with handing over trust. Of being pushed past the edge of what she could control.
Her wolf howled deliriously, and she tried to leash it in. But then Luke dropped to his knees in front of her, spread her legs, and looked up.
Oh, yes, both sides of her soul moaned at the same time.
Luke didn’t utter a word, but his eyes glowed. And shit, not just with arousal, but with that possessive, my-woman look her brothers gave their mates.
The scary thing was, she was pretty sure her eyes were glowing the same way.
When he slid his thumbs down her center line, tipped forward to spread her wider, and began to feast, every note of caution fled her mind. Words caught in her throat as he ravaged her body in the most delicious way. With his tongue. His fingers. His searingly hot breath. She clutched at the door, his hair, then his shoulders as he pushed her closer and closer toward a shattering orgasm.
Come for me, his voice sounded in her mind. Coaxing, not commanding. Begging, almost.
She tipped her head against the door, moaning as her muscles clenched tighter. She was definitely hearing things. Only packmates could hear each other’s thoughts.
Packmates and destined mates, her wolf said.
Not going there, she moaned, trying to hang on to her last scrap of control. So not going there.
Mates, her wolf sang.
She wanted to protest, but she couldn’t. Not with a tornado of need whipping through her soul.
Come for me, Luke murmured, swirling his tongue against her clit while his fingers tickled her inside.
She cried out as the orgasm shook through her. The room was dark, but her vision filled with light. Her ears filled with the sound of her own moans.
“Yes…yes…” she cried.
Was this really happening? She’d never let a man take full charge of her body before. She’d always kept her defenses firmly up. What was wrong with her?
She shuddered, succumbing to the rushing wave of need. Not sure which way was up or down. No longer caring as long as that exquisite pleasure never ebbed.
“Yes…”
She rode the high for another full minute then went limp against the wall, panting hard.
Amazing, she swore she heard Luke humming in her mind. He scrubbed his stubbly chin against her thigh, marking her as his.
His fingers tightened around her hips, anchoring her until her senses snapped back into place. Well, only half her senses — the ones controlled by her wolf.
Need this man, it cried. Need my mate.
Before she knew it, she was hauling him over to the bed and straddling him. Lowering her body over his thick, hard shaft one agonizingly perfect inch at a time. She groaned, relishing the inner stretch, the heat. Then she started rocking. Faster and faster still until they were both bucking wildly.
“Luke…”
His name slipped far too easily from her tongue. Her heart beat far too quickly for a woman who ought to be guarding her soul, and her pulse skipped too erratically for a person pretending to be in control.
“Turn,” he murmured, all low and growly.
She rolled, letting him take the top without so much as a sassy comment.
“More,” she begged. Begged, damn it, while her wolf howled and her legs tightened around his waist.
Sex as she’d always known it was a game, a short-term distraction. Sex was supposed to be about her toying with a man who might satisfy her for a little while.
Then this must not be sex, her wolf growled.
This was all-encompassing. Breathtaking. Soul-wrenching. This was pure emotion, knocking reason aside and stealing her control.
Luke’s eyes flashed, telling her it was the same for him. A first. A last, maybe. A totally new sensation. He slowed just long enough to pull her hips high, and she practically sang as he thrust into her again.
Yes was the only word she could manage, so she panted it. Screamed it. Scratched it into his sides as he pounded into her again and again.
“Yes,” she moaned when she thought it couldn’t get any better. But then he pushed even harder, and the wave inside her crashed, toppling her over the edge.
She cried out, shuddering with a mighty orgasm.
He grunted and tipped his head back, going perfectly still as his own release hit.
Mine, her wolf howled, relishing the hot burn of his come deep inside her body. Mine. Mine. Mine.
“Yes,” she panted, pretending yes meant Oh, that’s good and not, Yes, he’s mine. But the line of meaning kept blurring, even in her own mind.
“Whoa,” she whispered, going limp all over.
“So good,” he murmured as they lay close and sweaty on the bed.
Sure is, her wolf hummed inside as Luke scrubbed his chin against her cheek, marking her as his.
Chapter Four
Luke panted into the sheets, unable to process any words other than two.
Holy shit.
He sank back onto the mattress, in no hurry to go anywhere or to think anything except holy shit over and over again.
And, crap. Now he was snuggling against this woman like she was his goddamn teddy bear. What was he thinking, stroking her hair back to stare into her eyes and whispering her name?
“Carly,” he murmured, again and again.
Damn it, he never did that, because a name made a person real. A name gave a person meaning. A name was the key to a person’s soul.
“Luke,” she whispered.
She might as well have puffed into the glowing embers of a fire, because a wave of heat swept through his body. He hadn’t gone by Luke in years, and it made him feel like a different man. A better man, almost.
A fucked-up man, he decided, cradling her body against his.
Mine, his wolf growled. Just listen.
Listen to her heart tap against his chest?
No, dummy. Listen.
He heard a whisper on the wind. A low sound that could have been a chuckle — or a warning. What was that?
That’s destiny.
Destiny?
Destiny. His wolf nodded firmly. That’s destiny, telling us she’s our mate.
The idea ought to have made him run for the hills, but all he felt was Carly’s sweet heat.
She sighed, and he wondered if she’d heard it, too. But then she snuggled closer and shut her eyes.
He did, too. Her hair was soft on his shoulder, her breath light on his neck. It slowed and evened out as she fell asleep.
He counted to ten, figuring it was time to pull his usual trick — namely, easing out of a woman’s embrace. Step two would be to collect his things quietly, and step three would be to slip away. It was easier on everyone that way.
But he couldn’t break away, not when he’d counted to ten or twenty or even one hundred. He didn’t want to break away or fumble his jeans on. He wanted to stay.
And stay and stay and stay, his wolf agreed.
Finding a willing woman was easy. But finding this sense of satisfaction or peace…not so much. This inner calm, this balance. Why rush away from this bliss?
His own breathing slowed, and the time between beats of his heart quieted, too. His whole soul calmed in a way it hadn’t dared in years, and he fell asleep.
A deep, drugged sleep from which he woke a few times — or dreamed about waking. Once, Carly woke him hungry for more, and he was happy to oblige. Another time, it was him, unable to keep his hands off her and waking her by mistake. One thing led to another, and they tumbled right into another sizzling round of sex. The third time he awoke, it wasn’t to do anything much but to stare into those amazing blue eyes. Well, he stared into her eyes. She studied his tattoos.
Just about every woman he’d ever slept with did that, but Carly did it differently. She didn’t trace the ink so much as the space between the lines, and when she tilted her head, it was as if she could see past all those markings to the person he’d once been.
“Luke,” she whispered then paused.
He strained to hear what she might say next. Would it be, Luke, I’ve never felt this way before?
Because damn, he sure as hell never had. So warm. So happy. So close to something great.
Or would she say, Luke, we need to talk?
Talking would be okay, too. Because he couldn’t decode the sparks in her eyes, and he was dying to know what they meant.
“Luke,” she whispered as the first pink streak of dawn inched over her skin.
He leaned closer, nodding eagerly.
Her eyes flickered with some inner battle before she gulped and sighed. “I have to go.”
His wolf howled as he forced himself to say, “Me, too.”
But neither of them budged except for inching closer.
“Soon,” she said, kissing his jaw.
“Real soon,” he agreed, working his lips down the amazing curves of her body again.
His wolf side took over from there, and all he could do was witness Carly come undone all over again. Just like him, damn it. Just like him.
He didn’t remember who fell asleep first, but he knew who was the first to wake up the next morning. Carly. He could tell by the sound of her Triumph roaring down the road.
“Whoa. Wait!” He ran out of the room just in time to see her rev the engine and whip around a corner, ready to burn up the road.
No! his wolf cried.
The roar of the Triumph’s engine faded before being erased by the rumble of an eighteen-wheeler that shot past, also heading north.
He stood buck naked on the balcony above the bar, gripping the railing. Forcing himself not to take chase.
What a woman, his wolf murmured in his head. What a night.
He shook his head. What a foreign feeling not to want to let her go.
He sniffed the air. Last night, each breath he inhaled had been cool and full of promise. Now the air was as parched and lifeless as the landscape.
She’s heading north. The way we’re going, right? his wolf asked, full of hope. Far, far too much hope.
He shook his head as if to clear his ears of the suggestion. What he really needed was to scrub his entire memory of her. He had to get his head screwed back on. He was a man on a mission, not some rogue just dicking around.
There was so much more I wanted to do, his wolf cried. To say. To hear. To share.
He headed back into the dim room and looked around, telling himself it was all good. Washing his face didn’t help, so he showered and scrubbed, too, trying to rub Carly’s scent off, because even the faintest whiff of it drove him crazy with a desperate need. When he stepped back into the bedroom to collect his clothes, he took a deep sniff in spite of himself, catching the last of her scent. Then he picked every item slowly off the floor. Jeans. Boxers. Shirt. Boots. Jacket…
He looked around. Wait. Where was his leather jacket?
Had he left it in the bar? In his sad excuse for four wheels? He checked all over for the only relic of his past he’d wanted to hold on to, then stood beside his truck, sniffing the breeze. Then he cracked into a wide grin, realizing where it had gone.
Carly had taken it. He replayed the fleeting memory of her rounding the corner on her Triumph. Yeah, she’d taken his jacket — along with a piece of his heart. Which meant she wanted to hang on to the memory of their night, too.
Then he caught himself. Damn. He needed to lose those memories, not hang on to them.
He kicked the dirt, feeling an unfamiliar ache in his chest.
The ache in my heart, his wolf sniffed.
Well, maybe that was a good thing. It proved there was something left of his heart after all those years of drunken brawls and battles for no particular cause.
It hurts, his wolf complained.
He paid his bill — because he really was turning over a new leaf now — asked for directions to Twin Moon Ranch, and headed north. A few miles later, he spotted the knotted old carcass of a tree that had been struck by lightning ages ago — the landmark he’d been told about. He pulled off the hi
ghway and slowed to a stop, eyeing the dirt road ahead.
Should he, or shouldn’t he?
Highway traffic whipped past, tempting him to zoom onward, too.
If we keep heading north, we might catch up to Carly, his wolf urged.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He sniffed the air for the scent of wolf, but the desert air was too dry. The stiff, prickly leaves of the surrounding brush swayed in the wind, teasing him.
Why bother stopping at a pack of strangers? And for what? Why was it so important to say thank you to a man he’d never met?
He gritted his teeth. Because it was the right thing to do.
The dirt road to the ranch twisted and turned, hiding the future from him, and Carly’s voice whispered through his mind. Why turn over a new leaf?
Yeah, his wolf demanded. Why?
He didn’t really have to change. He could just head to Colorado and…and…
And look his family in the face? No, he had to see his plan through. And it all started with this small step.
“All right, already,” he murmured to himself, forcing his eyes ahead.
The truck groaned over the bumpy dirt road, urging him to turn back. But as powerful as the pull north was, the pull toward the ranch was even stronger. As if fate was leaning in, saying, You really need to go this way.
The truck rattled onward for a couple of miles, and he wondered who the hell would live way out in the middle of these scrubby plains. His home territory in North Ridge, Colorado had been remote, too, like most wolf packs preferred, but it was surrounded by thick woods, mighty mountains, and roaring rivers. A beautiful place.
The morning air wafted in through the open window, trying to convince him that Arizona had its own brand of beauty. A harsher, edgier kind, with red rock mesas and rolling hills. A breeze ruffled the scrublands. A brown bird flitted between the bushes then disappeared. When he slowed down to lurch over a gulley, a sprinkle of red against dun-colored earth caught his gaze — a row of tiny red flowers hung like upside-down tea cups from a single stem. The kind of flower he’d be tempted to pick for Carly if he ever got to see her again.
He gripped the wheel a little harder and shook his head. “Focus, damn it. Focus.”