by T. S. Joyce
She giggled and kissed him again. Chance slid her bag off her arm and shouldered it, then angled them toward the lodge. “Let’s get you settled in. Lennard will want to meet you.”
“Don’t you have to finish chopping wood?”
“Clients come first,” he said with a wink. “I’ll come back out here and finish up later.”
Emily wrapped her arms around his taut waist and rested her cheek against him. “I’m really glad to have you back.”
Chance smiled down at her. “You never lost me.”
Chapter Fifteen
It was obvious that her opinion of the lodge meant a lot to Chance from the look on his face when he opened the door and stood aside for her to enter. His eyes were intense on her, and there was a tiny furrow of worry between his brows.
The lodge was just as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside, and the warmth that she’d sensed from it earlier settled comfortably over her shoulders. To the left, there was a hallway with a row of bedroom doors, a rustic staircase lit by a massive moose-antler chandelier directly in front of her, and to the right was a spacious living area with that gorgeous stone fireplace she’d seen from outside. There was a bearskin rug under a coffee table covered in outdoor magazines, dark leather furniture, and the den and kitchen were bisected by a long dining table. In the kitchen, an older man stood with his back to them, working over a stainless steel stove. Everything was pristine and coated in rich, dark colors, even the log walls, and natural evening light filtered through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows near the hearth. She’d never been in any place like this.
“This is incredible,” she said on a breath.
A slow smile crept over Chance’s lips, and she touched his blond beard just to feel his cheeks swell with the happy expression. Chance set her bag by the door and pulled her by the hand toward the kitchen. “Lennard, one of our clients just flew in.”
Lennard was a tall man and had been right in the middle of tasting a sauce he had simmering over the stove. Wooden spoon in his mouth, he hunched and turned, eyes wide. “Hi,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I didn’t expect anyone this early. I figured Ian would bring you all in together.”
“I hitched a ride with Tobias,” she explained, then bumped Chance on the shoulder with hers. “I wanted to get here as soon as I could. Emily Vega.” She offered her hand for a shake.
Lennard had frozen into place, spoon still hovering in the air and his gray, bushy brows lifted high. He looked from her to Chance and then back to her again before scrambling to shake her hand. “Did you tame my boy?”
“Lennard,” Chance said in a low voice. Was he blushing? He was definitely fidgeting.
“More like he tamed me. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She looked around pointedly. “And about your lodge. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Lennard said through a stunned grin. “We sure take a lot of pride in this place.”
“It shows.”
“Emily Vega. You booked as a single on Chance’s fishing trip tomorrow.”
“I hope that’s okay.”
“Oh, I think it’s a great idea for you to see what goes on behind the scenes and what Chance does to earn his living out in the bush. Jenner and Dalton have both taken their…girlfriends?”
“Mates,” Chance murmured, then twitched his head at Emily. “She knows.”
“Oh,” Lennard said, looking surprised all over again. “So, you’re big for him. You’re it.”
Emily’s throat tightened at his words, and she nodded.
Lennard squeezed her hand and pulled her in close. “Well, don’t that beat all?” His voice thickened with emotion. “Welcome, welcome. To the lodge, to the family, to all of it. I thought this one wasn’t ever going to settle down. I thought he was going to miss out.” Lennard released her and lifted his glasses just enough to wipe his eyes, then he gave an embarrassed laugh. “Shoot. Well, Emily, you just tickled me. And you came on the right night. I’m cooking elk for you and the other new arrivals. We’ll get out one of the good bottles of wine to celebrate you and Chance. Go on now,” he said, gripping Chance’s shoulder. “Show her around the lodge while I finish up in here. The others will be here soon.”
Lennard turned back to his sauce and shook his head over and over like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. As Chance led her toward the entryway, Emily looked back once to see the sweet older man wiping his cheek on his shoulder. She was struck in this moment with how genuine the people were that Chance had chosen to surround himself with.
“You picked really good people,” she said, intertwining her fingers with his as he bent down and picked up her bag from near a shoe shelf.
Chance straightened, and the corners of his bright green eyes crinkled with his smile. With a quick glance at Lennard, he leaned forward and kissed her gently, then whispered, “I know.”
Oh, he was including her in his good choice in people, and now her stomach was doing flip-flops at both the compliment and the kiss.
The door burst open beside them, and in came Dalton with a big old shit-eating grin on his face, a baseball cap covering his hair, and a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. “Honeys, I’m home,” he sang. “The party can start now.” He gave Chance a mannish handshake that included several complicated gestures and ended with them slapping hands twice and howling out, “Owoooo!”
Jenner strode through the door behind Dalton, rolling his eyes. He hugged Emily’s shoulders and murmured, “Hey, McBJ.”
“Oh, God, is that the nickname I’m stuck with?”
Jenner didn’t even look apologetic. “Vera gave it to you on night one, so it’s yours.”
“Fantastic.”
A couple of strangers walked in behind Jenner. One was a heavyset man dressed all in green camouflage, and the other was a short lady with dyed pink hair, sparkly matching eyeshadow, and a sleeve of brightly colored tattoos up one arm. This couple was a study in opposites, but they were friendly and affectionate and kept tossing each other cute little smiles as they were introduced to everyone, including Lennard, who arrived in the entryway to greet the new guests. This would be the couple that went out on the fishing excursion with her and Chance, so Emily made sure to commit their names to memory. Abby and Chuck Roderick
“A little birdy told me you were here celebrating something special,” Chance said.
“Yes,” Abby replied, her cheeks flushing to match her hair. “I’ve been married to this old teddy bear for a year now. We’re here celebrating our anniversary.”
Chuck hugged her shoulders and grinned like he’d won the lottery.
“Well, I can’t think of a cooler anniversary celebration than going out camping and fishing,” Chance said. “We’ll get you settled into your room and get some of that good dinner Lennard is making us into our bellies, and then I’ll go over what to expect over the next couple of days. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect,” Abby said, flashing an excited grin. “I’ve never been fly-fishing before, but Chuck says I’m going to love it.”
Chance promised her, “You’ll be a pro by the time we ride back here.”
“Honestly, I mostly came for the horses.”
Chuck snorted. “She doesn’t even pretend she came for me.”
Chance chuckled and twitched his head at Emily. “She’s only here for the booze.”
Emily swatted his arm. “Don’t tell them that. I’m not, by the way. I didn’t even know booze was a part of the trip, and I’m a lightweight, anyway.”
“Are you his old lady?” Abby asked.
Another round of butterflies filled her stomach as Emily nodded. “That I am. This is my first time being here, and I wanted to learn how to fly-fish, too, so I booked an excursion with him. I just got here a little while ago. We can learn together.”
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” Abby said, clapping her hands in front of her. “Wait, were you teasing about the booze or not?” she asked Chance.
“I brought a flask, if you were.”
Chance let off a laugh. “This is your excursion. I can pack us some extra libations if you want.”
“We want,” Abby said with a wink at Chuck.
Emily liked the bubbly woman already, and her excitement was catching. Plus, she loved seeing Chance like this, in his element, in professional mode as he conversed with his clients about what kind of adventure they wanted. She could see him committing everything to memory and expertly guiding the conversation to make sure he had a mental checklist of everything he would need to make their trip worthwhile.
When they were finished talking, Dalton took the Rodericks’ bags to room three down the hallway, while Chance led Emily to the first room. “Don’t laugh,” he warned right before he pushed the door open.
She’d expected neat and tidy, but her eyeballs were assaulted with disorganized chaos. It looked like he’d dumped his entire bag onto the plush carpet, his bed was unmade, and the covers were pulled halfway off the mattress. Even the small desk against the wall had been pulled over and lay wonky on the ground. “Chance Dawson, you are a slob,” she admonished, stepping carefully over his empty duffle bag and into the room.
Chance had to kick stuff back out of the way in order to close the door again. “So, I’m not a slob naturally, but I’ve been reeling with the thought that I’d lost you, and then with the thought that I was going to have to cut myself out of the pack to keep you. I had a meltdown earlier.” Chance ran his hands over his hair and gave the room a pitied look. “If Lennard saw what I did to this place, he would flip out.”
A deep ache slashed through her chest as she looked around at how much pain he must’ve been in to go mad like this. She understood. She’d been crawling out of her skin thinking she’d lost him, too. “I should’ve called first.”
“No, I like the way you did it. You just get to see the gritty part, too.”
Emily kicked a toppled pile of clothes out of the way and hugged his waist, rested her cheek against his chest, and sighed. “I was falling apart, too, and you know what?”
“Hmm?” he rumbled.
“I have gritty parts, too, and you see past them. Your gritty parts make me like you even more.”
Chance brushed his fingertips down her neck and searched her face with such adoration, she stood frozen in his bright gaze. Standing here with him, feeling so safe and warm, she couldn’t believe she’d ever been afraid of him, or his wolf. She wouldn’t change him for anything. His animal was part of what made Chance…Chance. Loyal, easy-going, funny, brave, capable, and fierce, he was built for this rough country. Built for the Alaskan wilderness in ways that complimented the person she’d become through her Hell Hunter training.
Swamped with emotion, she lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him, her perfect match. He gripped the back of her neck roughly and pulled her body closer. Angling his head, he plunged his tongue into her mouth, and a tiny, helpless sound clawed its way up her throat. She clutched his sweater in clenched fists, desperate for more with him. More skin, more warmth, more Chance. She had been drowning this past week without him, and now he was air. He was everything. Every touch, every kiss, every look like she was beautiful washed her clean of the dark thoughts and guilt that had taken her. Chance banished the Hell Hunter in her by trusting her, by seeing the good in her, by his unending belief in her potential. He was going to leave his pack for her. His pack. Link and Dalton and all the people who meant so much to him, and he was choosing her. She would never allow him to make such a painful decision, but the fact he had fought for her tethered her heart unerringly to his.
Chance pushed her backward, following step for step until her back hit the door. She bit his bottom lip to punish his roughness. He pressed her between his body and the wooden barrier behind her, and she reveled in his need for her.
“I won’t be gentle right now,” he gritted out, his eyes a blinding light green and his features feral. Even his teeth looked sharper in the dim lighting.
“I don’t want you gentle. I want…”
“Tell me,” he demanded through biting kisses.
“I want you to take me how you like. How your wolf wants to.”
Chance let off a sharp breath and shook his head. “You aren’t ready for that.” But his smile had turned wolfish and challenging, so she pushed the hem of his shirt upward. While he pulled the sweater from his head, she unsnapped the button to his jeans and shoved them down his hips.
“I know what I am and am not ready for, Chance Dawson. I want all of you, even the wolf. Fuck me how you like.”
A long growl rattled from his chest. His shoulders lifted with ragged breath, and a muscle twitched just under his eye as he seemed to consider.
God, he was beautiful. Like some warrior between battles. Muscles tensed and flexed, scarred up, bright-eyed, fucking beautiful wolf-man. And he was hers. He should know that. She nipped his chest. “Mine.”
Chance inhaled a deep breath and wound his fingers in the back of her hair. His lips curled up in a crooked, devilish smile as he lifted his chin and looked down at her. “Turn around.”
Holy hell, he was sexy when he was like this. Breath stuttering in her throat, Emily gave him her back, tugging her shirt off as she did. Chance gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her skin, causing her to arch her back with how good and rough it felt at the same time. When he dragged his touch along her spine, he trailed a line of fire. With the soft, abrupt sound of fabric, her bra loosened and fell forward. Her insides were molten now as she closed her eyes to the woodgrain of the door. Her sex pulsed once, ready to be filled, and as Chance reached around her and squeezed her aching breasts, she was nearly undone.
“You’re sure you want the animal,” he asked, voice more gravel than deep timbre.
Nervousness fluttered through her stomach. This snarly side was one she hadn’t seen from Chance. It scared her. It excited her. The deep rumble in his throat and roughness of his hands made her want to see everything he had been hiding from her.
As an answer, she pushed her jeans down her hips.
Chance chuckled darkly and pushed her hair to the side. “Sexy mate, calling to the wolf.” He leaned down right next to her ear. “Don’t run, little bunny.”
Her training had taught her that much. Never give your back to a predator, and if you must, never, under any circumstance, give up ground by fleeing. Predators liked to chase.
His lips plucked at her sensitive earlobe, and she bowed her back against him, silently pleading for more.
Chance grabbed her ass hard, and she gasped at the feeling of pleasure and pain as he pressed his stony erection against her back. She rolled her hips with him, teasing. She had him just as surely as he had her. His hand slid around her belly, and his fingers pressed into her soft skin there as he pulled her back against him. And then his lips were there, on her neck, kissing gently. He sucked hard, and it shocked her into gasping. Hopefully his attention would leave a hickey on her neck so she could remember this moment every time she looked in the mirror. His teeth brushed right over her tripping pulse on the side of her throat.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, rocking his erection against her back again.
“Yes,” she said on a panting breath. She was so wet now, so ready.
Chance smiled against her skin and spread her knees wider with his own. He pulled her hands up to the door and locked her arms against it. His hard, swollen dick was right there, resting against her soaking entrance. She rocked backward, but he moved with her. She allowed a tiny human growl of her own.
Chance bit her earlobe and locked his arm against the door, fingers intertwining with hers, readying himself. “You have to be quiet, mate. Can you fuck quietly?”
“Yes.”
“Lie.”
Okay, so she hadn’t believed she could, but if that was the rule of this game, she would accept the challenge. “I can be quiet,” she said in a harder tone.
“Good mate.” His voice was
unrecognizable now. Too low, too snarly, too inhuman. She loved this.
She rocked back again, needy, and this time, he allowed his shaft to slide into her an inch. Helplessly, she let off a long, trembling sigh and closed her eyes. Even this shallow, he felt so good inside of her. “More,” she demanded.
Chance’s grip tightened on her hand against the door, and he growled. His other hand snaking around her stomach, he pulled her hard against him and slammed into her. The girth of him was a shock. Sure, she’d been intimate with him before, but she’d forgotten how big he was. He pulled almost all the way out until just his swollen head was still inside her, then rammed into her again. His growl was constant now as he pulled and pushed, in, out, faster, harder. Tingling pressure built inside of her with every thrust, and when Chance ran his fingers from her stomach to between her legs, scissoring where he was sliding in and out of her and touching her clit, she bowed against him. Holy hell, he felt so good right there.
“Oooh,” she breathed, but in an instant, Chance’s teeth were on the back of her neck, holding her skin there with enough pressure that it was almost painful. Quiet. Right.
Emily clamped her teeth, swallowed the moan in her throat, and was rewarded with the release of his teeth from her neck.
Chance slammed into her again and again, and now the growling in his throat was constant. His powerful body flexed against her with every stroke. She wanted to beg. She wanted to plead with him to fuck her harder because even this wasn’t enough. The word was right there on the tip of her tongue as he pumped into her. He slid into her easily now, filling her over and over.
“Fuck,” he growled out.
“Chance,” she gasped out, blinded by how good the friction of his body felt.
He slid out of her and spun her so fast her stomach dipped to the floor and snapped back into place in an instant. Chance lifted her off the floor and wrapped her legs around him, then slammed her back against the door and slid into her. As his hips blasted against her over and over, she was lost. Gone. Clawing at his shoulders as she held on for dear life. The pressure was building too fast now, too intensely, and she couldn’t stop the moan. His lips crashed onto hers. Rough, sexy werewolf. He swallowed her cry of ecstasy as he thrust into her.