Wild Wolf Claiming Read online

  “Not likely,” he said, stretching his powerful arms over his head, before laying them across the back of the sofa and motioning her closer. “It’s cold outside, we have a roaring fire going and I get to relax back on this comfy couch and hold a beautiful girl in my arms while watching TV.” With a wicked gleam in his dark eyes, he asked her, “What could be better than that?”

  She gave a soft laugh to cover her nerves, but didn’t shy away from him. Instead, she grabbed the remote off the low coffee table and settled against Elliot’s side. With her legs drawn up on the sofa, and his booted feet propped up on the table, she turned the TV on, and ended up having fun, even if it did take a while to relax against him. She was keenly aware of his every breath, his warm scent and the way his incredible body felt pressed against hers, loving the way he’d casually lean over every now and then and press his nose into her hair, breathing her in. They watched the first Avengers movie, which was one of her favorites, and he teased her for pulling for Loki instead of the good guys.

  “He’s not bad. He’s just misunderstood,” she explained with a playful smirk, and she could have sworn Elliot spent the next ten minutes watching her mouth more than the TV screen, which had her heart pounding and her pulse rushing in her ears.

  By the time the movie ended, she was restless and breathy, and she surged to her feet, her words all but tumbling over themselves as she headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll just, um, make us some lunch.”

  Following after her, he said, “I was gonna do that.”

  “Let me, please?” she asked, looking over at him as he came up beside her. “I need something to do.”

  He took a moment to study her flushed face, then gave her a look that was almost heartbreakingly tender. “All right,” he murmured, taking a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “But only if you let me sit here and keep you company.”

  She gave a quiet laugh, wondering for a moment how this could possibly be her normally boring, scraping-just-to-get-by-every-day life. Then she shook off her disbelief, and started looking through the cupboards for some chips and fresh bread.

  “So,” he said, watching her from his perch on the stool, his muscular arms crossed and braced on the tiled top of the bar. “Were you named after, you know, the sunny blue sky?”

  Pulling what she needed for sandwiches out of the fridge, she snorted under her breath. “If only.”

  He angled his head a bit to the side as he studied her. “So then your mother isn’t the nature-loving type?”

  “She isn’t anything,” she murmured, pulling down two plates. “She’s dead.”

  She saw him wince from the corner of her eye. “Oh, shit. I didn’t know, Skye. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s actually for the best, as awful as that sounds.”

  He mulled that telling statement over while she finished up the sandwiches, and his voice was a bit rougher when he asked, “And your dad?”

  “What is this, twenty questions?” She laughed a little to cover her nerves, and set his plate down in front of him.

  “It could be.” The corner of his mouth twitched with a shadow of a grin. “I’m not ashamed to say that I’m curious as hell about you.”

  Coming around the breakfast bar with her own plate, she climbed up onto the stool beside his. “Well, there’s really not much to know.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured, popping a chip in his mouth. “I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

  She arched one of her brows at him. “You’re welcome to try.”

  Shoulders shaking with a deep, husky laugh, he said, “Don’t tempt me. I’m sitting here trying to be good.”

  “Instead of...?”

  “Being bad.” His laughter had trailed off, and she had the feeling that he purposefully wasn’t looking at her as he quietly added, “Very, very bad.”

  Heart hammering in her chest, she took a deep breath, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she picked up her sandwich, those words playing on continual repeat in her head. From the edge of her vision, she watched as he took a bite of his own sandwich, his low moan of appreciation so sexy she could have moaned right along with him.

  “God, Skye, this tastes amazing.”

  “Um, thanks,” she murmured, “but it’s just a sandwich.”

  She could feel the heat of his gaze against her profile as he said, “You’re not comfortable taking compliments, are you?”

  “Is anyone?” she asked, finally taking her first bite.

  Swallowing another bite, he said, “I don’t know, and I don’t really care. You’re the only one that interests me.” He finished off the first half of his sandwich, and reached for the second one as he went on. “I’m not trying to freak you out. But I’m not gonna sit here and lie to you. I think you’re incredible, both inside and out.”

  She turned her head and gave him a baffled look. “I’m just a waitress, Elliot. I don’t even have a college degree.”

  “Baby, neither do I,” he drawled, popping another chip in his mouth.

  “At least you have an important career,” she muttered, glancing away.

  He went on like he hadn’t even heard her. “Who gives a crap about a degree?” he asked, reaching over and curling his warm fingers under her chin so that he could get her to look at him. “It wouldn’t make you any more incredible than you are now. And what the hell is wrong with being a waitress? You kick ass at it, and make killer tips from people I saw smile because of you, when I doubt they have much in life to smile about. That’s something that’s honest and real and worthy, Skye.” He lowered his hand, but kept his gaze locked hard on hers as he added, “So don’t you dare be ashamed of it. You should own that shit and be proud of it.”

  She shook her head a little as she pulled her lower lip through her teeth. “Seriously, Elliot. You are so not a normal guy.”

  Though the grin he flashed her was cocky, there seemed to be a shadow in his brown eyes that made her wonder what his own secrets were like...and if they were anywhere near as dark as her own. As they finished eating, another one of those heavy silences settled between them, and she couldn’t help but feel awkward...restless. Moving to her feet, she grabbed his empty plate, along with hers, racking her brain for what they could do for the rest of the afternoon as she carried their dirty dishes to the sink. Without a doubt, getting him naked would have been right up at the top of her list, but he seemed to be dead set on keeping things platonic between them today. It was more than a little disappointing.

  And then, as if he’d heard the explicit nature of her thoughts, Skye suddenly felt him come up behind her, his big hands settling against the counter on either side of her as he leaned down and put his mouth close to her ear. “Tell me to walk away,” he said huskily, “and I will, Skye. I will always respect what you want. But I’m really hoping that you won’t.”

  She closed her eyes, trembling with excitement and breathless anticipation. “What are you h-hoping for?”

  “This,” he growled, pressing his warm lips to the side of her neck, just beneath her ear. “I’ve been trying to give you time, but it’s fucking killing me. I just want the chance to touch you. Kiss you. Make you come for me again.”

  She moaned a low, shaky sound of surrender, and reached back, pushing her hand into his thick hair and holding him to her. She felt the press of his teeth against her sensitive skin...across the rush of her pulse, and then the carnal stroke of his tongue, slow and deliberate. “Wow,” she gasped, her breath catching as he pressed his hands to her belly, pulling her back against his strong, heavily aroused body. “And to think I was gonna see if we could just find a b-board game to play.”

  His gruff, deliciously sexy bark of laughter gusted against her ear, and her lips curled with a satisfied smile. It might not be a big deal to most women, but Skye freaking loved that she could make him sound like that.

  “You’re smiling, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Before she could answer, he lifted his hand to her mouth,
his rough fingertips stroking over her top lip, and then the bottom one. It was such an instinctively sensual act, and yet, there was a touch of innocence to it, the provocative combination making her tremble with emotion.

  “Hurry, please,” she panted, too desperate to worry about the fact that she was begging him. With his mouth open and warm against the side of her throat, he pressed his hands to her sweater-covered ribs, then slid them up, cupping her swollen breasts, a cry breaking from her throat when he rubbed his thumbs over her tight nipples. His hands were so big, and felt so good, it was a little scary, in that Ohmygod I only just met this guy, but I feel like I was made for him...or he was made for me...or maybe we were just made for each other kind of way. And that was the kind of craziness, if he ever found out about it, that would probably send him running. Because while she didn’t know all that much about how guys thought, she did know that they ran from clingy women like they were escaping from a flesh-eating virus.

  With one hand still molding and squeezing her breast, he reached down with the other and unsnapped her jeans. “Damn it, I have to touch you,” he growled, watching over her shoulder as he lowered the zipper, then slipped his hand in under the elastic waistband of her favorite pink panties. “Ah, Christ. You’re so wet, Skye.” He cupped her with his entire palm, then swept the tips of two fingers between her slick, swollen folds, grazing her clit. “I just want to keep touching you forever. Learning you. Memorizing you.”

  As her opened jeans slid down her hips a bit, she swallowed the knot of lust in her throat, searching for her voice—but all that would come out was a breathy, needy moan.

  “Take your sweater off for me,” he said in a low, raw slide of words, slipping the tip of one finger inside the tight clasp of her body and gently exploring.

  Though her hands were shaking, she managed to remove her sweater and tank in one go, and simply let them fall to the floor. He immediately pressed his open mouth to her bare shoulder, and her head flopped back, resting against his chest, the heat and desire building beneath her skin turning her bones to sun-warmed wax.

  “You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, running the damp heat of his mouth along her jaw, as he pulled down the cup of her bra and covered her naked breast with his big, hot hand. His other hand pressed deeper between her thighs, pushing that wicked finger farther inside her, where she was melting and slick, so slippery she could hear the wet sounds of his touch. “Can I give you another one?”

  “Y-yeah,” Skye replied shakily, gasping when he suddenly pulled his hand from between her legs and quickly turned her around. His dark eyes smoldered as he lifted his hand and rubbed the damp pads of his fingers across her lips, dipping inside to stroke her tongue. Then that big hand was back between her legs, two long fingers pushing up inside her with a hard thrust that had her making a sharp, thick sound of surprise. He grabbed her behind the neck, holding her still for the breathtaking storm of his kiss, the onslaught so deep and ravaging she was dizzy with sensation. She went under, lost, already hopelessly addicted to the way he touched her and kissed her. To the way his tongue sank into her mouth and claimed possession. Of her breath. Her taste. Her dreams. And every bit of desire she’d ever known. It was expanding like a never-ending universe, dark and endless with pulsing, searing points of light that burned behind her closed eyelids.

  “You didn’t touch me like this last n-night,” she stammered, when she finally had to break the kiss for a desperate gulp of air.

  With one hand still buried between her legs and the other holding her by the back of her neck, he kept his body curved over hers, his gorgeous face so close their noses were touching. His heavy gaze was burning and wild beneath thick, curling lashes, his breaths warm and rough and hard against her wet mouth, and as he did this mind-shattering thing with his thumb, he softly told her, “That’s because I was still trying to be good.”

  Skye touched her tongue to her upper lip, completely mesmerized by the way he looked right then, as if it were taking every ounce of his strength to hold himself together. “Maybe...maybe I like you a little bad.”

  His dark eyes gleamed with a feral flash of surprise, a low growl rumbling on his lips as he quickly took her mouth again, and she could feel the powerful muscles in his arm flexing as he started pumping his fingers into her. She was a mess, her remaining clothes all twisted around her body, but it was the most perfect, erotic moment of her entire life. She cried out, unable to keep her hips from surging against him, her tongue rubbing against his with a desperate kind of hunger she’d never even realized she could feel. Had never even known she was capable of. But she was, and in the midst of that maddening craving, she was completely unraveling under his touch, like he’d found the string to the very source of her pleasure. The one that could simply take her apart, loop by loop, and damn it, she didn’t want to unwind alone. She wanted him to fall apart with her, and as she panted against his open mouth, she reached between them, pressing her hand over the rigid shape of him inside his jeans.

  “Fuck,” he grunted, the guttural word punching from his lips as he pushed himself against her palm, and she used both hands to quickly undo the top button on his jeans, her fingers shaking as she worked the zipper down. Then she slipped her hand under the waistband of his tight black boxers, her heart thundering so hard it hurt as she curled her fingers around as much of that hot, diamond-hard part of him as she could. Looking down, she couldn’t help but lick her lips, stunned by how beautiful he was. He made the sexiest sound she’d ever heard in the back of his throat as she tightened her grip, his dark skin surprisingly soft to the touch.

  She’d never been a fan of giving head, or hungered for the feel of a guy’s cock in her mouth, but Elliot...he was different. She swiped her tongue over her lower lip again, the broad tip of his shaft so ripe and succulent looking she couldn’t help but want to suck on him. Savor him.

  Another thick, guttural sound tore from his chest, and he pulled his hand from between her legs as he suddenly grabbed her under her ass and lifted her up, setting her on the edge of the counter. With his hands holding tight to her hips and his heavy erection still trapped in her grip, he buried his face against the side of her throat, licking her skin like an animal tasting something sweet. And, um, yeah...she was definitely thinking about what that wicked tongue would feel like in other places on her body.

  As if he’d read her mind, he stroked his rough palms over her thighs, pushing them as wide as he could with her jeans still on, and pressed closer as he put his mouth right against her ear. “I want to shove my face between your legs so bad,” he growled, catching her earlobe between his teeth, then sucking it sweetly to ease the sting. “I want to put my tongue on that wet, pink part of you, and make you come so hard you scream. My name. Over and over.”

  She opened her mouth, ready to tell him she wanted the exact same thing, while she put her tongue on him too, when something from outside made her freeze.

  “Elliot, what the hell was that?” she whispered, almost positive she’d heard what sounded like a gun firing.

  “Oh, shit,” he bit out, leaving her to slide down off the counter as he stalked over to one of the windows at the front of the cabin. He took a quick glance outside, then shot her a sharp look over his shoulder. “Get in the bedroom closet and lock the door, Skye. Whatever happens, you do not come out of that goddamn room, understood?”

  “Uh...what?” She yanked her jeans up, then scooped up her sweater and tank and quickly pulled them over her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “The closet door is reinforced and the locks are titanium.” The words were low and clipped, his body somehow seeming to expand with a dark, visceral rage as he came toward her doing up his fly. “Nothing’s going to get through unless you open it. So you keep that fucker locked until you hear from me. Okay?”

  She blinked rapidly as she stared up at him, feeling like she’d just had cold water thrown in her face. “Are you serious? I’m not going to run and hide in the clos
et while you face off against God knows how many assholes out there! That’s insane!”

  Nostrils flaring, he pointed toward the hallway and growled, “I need you to stop arguing and just go. Now! Before you get someone killed.”

  * * *

  Skye flinched as he said those harsh words, jerking back from him like he’d slapped her, and Elliot hated not being able to reach out and yank her back into his arms. Shoulders stiff, she turned and walked away, leaving the room, and all he could think was Son of a bitch! He’d promised her they’d be safe there, and now it looked like that was just one more lie to add to all the others.

  Turning his attention back to the front window, he spotted a flash of blue in the woods, near the far side of the cabin. It’d looked like a nylon jacket, and he did a quick visual scan of the area, but couldn’t spot anyone else with so many trees surrounding the place. He didn’t doubt they were there, though.

  Needing to get this over with as quickly as possible, so that he could get back to her, Elliot headed across the room and down the hallway, stopping in the office to grab a handgun from the safe. As he stepped into the laundry room at the rear of the cabin, he slid the weapon into his waistband at his lower back. He didn’t know why they were shooting at each other, but someone out there had a gun, which meant he needed to be prepared. He didn’t imagine that bullets would be any deadlier to the assholes coming after Skye than they were to him—but they could certainly slow one of them down if he needed it done.

  Slipping out the back door, he headed into the trees, determined to hunt down every goddamn one of them. The frozen patches of snow crackled beneath his booted feet as he lifted his nose, sniffing at the forest air, taking in their scent. They weren’t Lycans, but they definitely weren’t human, either. They smelled like wolves crossed with something else, like coyote. Maybe even some kind of cat. It was a strange, musky scent, and almost identical to the one that he and Max had picked up at the previous crime scenes.