Wild Wolf Chasing Page 20

  “First of all, you’re not trouble,” he’d argued, pissed at hearing her talk about herself like that. “And we’ll be safer there. They’ve already increased the security protocols because of Skye.”

  Surprise had flickered across her expression. “They did that just for her?”

  “It’s what we do, Viv. We protect,” he’d said, taking a swig of his ice-cold beer.

  She’d fiddled with the crust of her sandwich. “But aren’t you worried about me being…different?”

  A husky laugh had rumbled up from his chest. “Baby, we’ve already got witches and a vampire there. You’re gonna fit right in.”

  She’d sucked in a sharp breath, looking away as she said, “We don’t know that, Max. I could be…”

  She hadn’t finished the sentence, but he knew she’d been thinking evil, and he hated it. “You’re not,” he’d clipped, “so stop thinking that shit.”

  “But I—” she’d started to say, before her head had quickly turned his way, her blue eyes wide and curious. “Wait a minute. Did you say vampire?”

  After that, he’d had to explain all about Cian and Sayre Hennessey, which had led to them cuddled up together on the sofa, much like they were now, while she’d looked through the photos of his family and friends on his phone. And that had led to some uncomfortable questions about how many of the women in the photographs he’d been involved with.

  “I haven’t slept with every friend whose photo is on my phone,” he’d told her, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But you can delete them if they bother you.”

  “No. I wouldn’t want to accidentally delete one of someone special to you.”

  She’d sounded sincere, and he’d wondered how he could make her understand that she was different to him. It wasn’t a situation he’d ever had to deal with before, because no woman had ever been different to him. Not a single one, except for her. Vivian. But he didn’t know how to make her understand without getting into all the emotional stuff that neither of them seemed ready to talk about. So in the end, he’d simply said, “The only ones I care about keeping are of my family.”

  “Your sister and her kids?”

  “Well, yeah,” he’d said, pressing a tender kiss to her temple, loving the way his every breath was filled with her mouthwatering scent. “But also everyone who lives in the Alley.”

  “Oh.” Setting his phone down on the coffee table, she’d rolled toward him on the sofa, their faces close together as she asked, “Is that why you never slept with Sophia? Is she more like family to you?”

  Max had snorted. “No. I never slept with Sophia because I didn’t want to.”

  Her look had been skeptical. “I saw the photos of you with her. She’s very pretty.”

  “She is,” he’d agreed, pressing his hand against her lower back and tugging her closer. “Still doesn’t mean I’ve ever wanted to sleep with her.”

  “Most guys would,” she’d offered with a feminine snort.

  “And here I’d hoped you might have realized by now that I’m not like ‘most’ guys,” he’d murmured, keeping his gaze locked tight with hers, willing her to believe him. To believe in him.

  For a moment, there’d been only a heavy, disappointing silence. But then she’d cuddled up even closer against him and given him a small, sweet smile that had made his chest feel all melty and hot. “You know what, Max?” she’d whispered, staring back at him in a way that had gotten his breath all jammed up in his throat, while her soft fingertips had brushed his hair back from his brow. “I’m finally starting to get that.”

  He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her after that; not that he ever could. She’d started to have more energy each day, and if they weren’t training—he’d been teaching her some of the combat moves that he and the other Runners often used—then they were wrapped around each other, completely insatiable. In fact, the one thing almost always led to the other, and he fucking loved it. Couldn’t get enough of it. Couldn’t get enough of her.

  Max didn’t understand it, seeing as how the first time he’d gotten inside her had been the stuff of dreams, but their sexual encounters somehow just kept getting even better…hotter…wilder. So much so, they’d actually broken the bed in the master bedroom, and he’d had to use a hammer and nails to put it back together, which Vivian had thought was hilarious.

  When the episode on the TV ended and the credits started rolling, he tugged her onto her back and braced himself on his elbow, staring down into her stunning face. Lifting his hand, he touched the tip of his finger to the dark little dots of her freckles, thinking they were friggin’ adorable. And beautiful. And sexy as hell. She was like a modern-day Cinderella, with her dark hair, fair skin, blue eyes, and those addictive pink lips.

  “If you could have anything for Christmas, what would it be?” she asked him, cupping the side of his face in her hand.

  He didn’t even have to think about it. “I’d want to watch you dance for me.”

  Her eyes went wide, making it clear that he’d surprised her. “Are you serious?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “I… I still need training,” she murmured, the pink in her cheeks making him smile. For someone who was so strong and gorgeous and quite simply amazing, it blew his mind that there wasn’t an arrogant, conceited bone in her beautiful body.

  “I know that’s what you’ve been saving up for—being able to go to dance school. Even before you told me yourself, Skye mentioned it to me and Elliot that night at your apartment.” His jaw tightened for a moment as he thought about that horrific night, but he forced the anger down and focused on the fact that she was now safe and in his arms, exactly where she belonged. “But I’ve seen the way you move, Viv. Everything you do has a kind of sensual grace to it. So make me a lucky son of a bitch and dance for me.”

  I’d want to watch you dance for me.

  A handful of minutes later, Vivian had no idea why those huskily spoken words had affected her so strongly. But they had. Enough that she’d somehow found the courage to move to her feet, pull up one of her favorite songs on Max’s phone, and after moving to the clear expanse of hardwood floor between the coffee table and the roaring fireplace, start to dance.

  For Max.

  Her lover.

  The man/wolf/warrior/protector who had quickly become the center of her entire world.

  She didn’t have a set routine worked out to the song, so she moved by instinct, her body spinning and swaying, his sharp intakes of breath telling her that he found the moment as wildly provocative as she did. The yoga pants and tank top she’d slipped into earlier gave her plenty of freedom for movement, and she let the music carry her away.

  When she turned in the final move, lungs working hard and skin glistening with sweat as the song quietly ended, she finally allowed herself to look over at where he sat on the sofa, and her jaw dropped. He was… God, he was stunning. He sat sprawled back on the soft brown leather, arms stretched across the top, blue eyes hungry and heavy, glowing with that otherworldly light, his thick cock straining against his jeans, while a muscle pulsed in the rigid set of his jaw. He watched her like she was something he very much wanted to strip bare and get his mouth on, his tongue flicking against his full lower lip as he looked her over, before those incredible blue eyes finally lifted back to hers and he husked, “That was…”

  She waited for him to finish the thought, breath held tight in her lungs, heart pounding like the heavy beat of a drum.

  Shifting forward with his legs parted, he braced his elbows on his knees and slowly shook his head. “I don’t even know what to say, sweetheart. That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’re fucking amazing.”

  She gave a soft, embarrassed laugh. “I’m not.”

  “You are,” he argued, the smoldering way he was looking at her making her body feel as soft and warm as a piece of taffy that’d been left out in the baking sun.

  “You’re sweet,” she whispered.

  “Co
me here,” he said, motioning her over with his hand as he sat up, “and I’ll show you just how sweet I can be.”

  She walked over to him in a cloud-like daze of desire, her breath catching as he gripped her hips with his big hands and pulled her between his legs, his head tilting back as he looked up at her with a deliciously wicked smile on his lips. “Now I want the rest of my gift,” he said in a low rumble, hooking the waistband of her yoga pants with his thumbs and tugging them down her trembling legs, taking her underwear right along with them. Rubbing his calloused palms down the outside of her thighs, he leaned forward, a gasp jerking from her lips as he buried his face against her dark curls and pulled in a deep, searching breath.

  “Fuck, you smell good,” he muttered, just before he hooked her left leg over his shoulder, curved his hands over her ass, and pulled her against his open, greedy mouth.

  “Max!” she cried, her hands fisting in his hair as he licked her from front to back, his talented tongue pushing boldly inside her tight, wet opening with a deliciously carnal kiss.

  “And you fucking taste even better,” he growled into her, tonguing her like she was the sweetest, most addictive thing he’d ever had in his mouth, the guttural sounds that he made telling her he was getting off on the explicitly intimate act every bit as much as she was, if not more. She wanted it to go on forever, but she was shaking like a leaf, her body already glowing with that telling golden light she’d come to associate with the bone-melting orgasms that Max always gave her, rather than the terrifying frenzy of the fight at the garage.

  “I can’t wait!” she panted, her head falling back as a hoarse cry broke from her lips, her body crashing over that pulsing, throbbing edge when he latched on to her clit, sucking it like a piece of candy, while pushing two big fingers up into her body and curving them forward, stroking that spot that made her lose all sense of reason. She thought she might have screamed, but couldn’t be sure, the waves of sensation thundering through her body blocking out everything but the way he was making her feel, the pleasure so intense she could hardly believe it was real.

  When he gave one last, lingering stroke of his tongue to her swollen flesh, then pressed a tender kiss to the spot just above her curls, she pulled in a much-needed breath, reaching deep for the strength to lower her head and look at him. Their gazes locked with a sizzling jolt of connection that felt almost physical, her pulse rushing with a renewed surge of need as she watched him lift his hand and lick her slick release from his palm in one of the sexiest moves she’d ever seen, the primal growl in his throat making her want to grip handfuls of his hair and pull him right back to where he’d been.

  “I hope to God you’re ready for more,” he said, his deep voice low and tight as he pulled her down onto the sofa with him, turning them until she was on her back and he was braced over her on one hand, while his other hand reached between them, working at the buttons on his fly. “Because I’m so ready for you I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

  “I couldn’t be more ready,” she panted, her voice shaking with need, breath catching when he lined himself up and shoved inside her, giving her every hot, diamond-hard inch of him with that first forceful thrust. She braced herself for the storm she knew was coming, but once he was buried inside her, he stilled, his chest lifting with his deep breaths as he rested his weight on his elbows and lowered his forehead to hers. His cock gave a hard pulse, and she clutched at his back, needing to feel him move. Frantic for it. Desperate.

  “I want it fast,” she begged, loving the sound he made when she wrapped her legs around his waist, the angle allowing him to sink in even deeper, until he was hitting the end of her. “Please, Max. Fuck me.”

  “I will, baby.” He caught her wrists and lifted them above her head, pinning her hands to the arm of the sofa. “But first I’m gonna make love to you,” he rasped against her ear as he came down over her, pulling his hips back and then slowly pushing back inside, rubbing the entire front of her body with his. “First we do it slow; then I’ll fuck you as hard and as fast as you want.”

  “Slow is boring,” she tossed back, trying to goad him into action. But the cocky male just laughed against the side of her throat.

  “Not the way we do it.”

  And, God, was he right. He rode her with that slow, maddening, devastating rhythm until she was a shivering, pleading mess, the slow burn of pleasure so intense she felt like every inch of her skin was nothing but pure sensation. Her orgasm built slow and rich and deep, so stunning when it hit that she wasn’t even sure she stayed conscious, everything going hazy and dark, as if she’d slipped into a warm, calm sea under a midnight-colored sky.

  He brought her back with the sexy brush of his lips over hers, before kissing her deep and wet, his kisses so addictive they should have come with a warning. Then he kept his word, taking her so hard and fast that the sofa smacked into the end table, another mind-shattering climax slamming into her just as he found his own release, the satisfied growl that he fed into her ear as he poured inside her, filling her up, only making her come harder.

  Eventually, they made it back to the bedroom, onto the rumpled white cotton sheets of the massive king-size bed. And after another bone-melting bout of passion, they collapsed in exhaustion.

  Utterly spent.

  And completely satisfied.

  When they’d first shared the same bed together, Vivian had been surprised to learn that Max was such a cuddler, and she loved that he was always pulling her close. As she laid there in his strong arms, her back tucked up against his muscular chest, she couldn’t get enough of the tender feeling of intimacy that surrounded them, both of them silent and mellow, watching the snow falling past the bedroom window. Even though her life was in complete turmoil, she felt a level of peace, of belonging, that brought tears to her eyes.

  She was drawn to him—to her sexy-as-sin werewolf—in a way that she never could have imagined before meeting him. It was a relentless, inexorable pull that she felt in every part of her, just like the ones Skye would read about in her beloved romances. God, she was falling for him so hard it was like flying through a rushing, violent storm, as disorienting as it was exhilarating. And, yeah, a little bit scary. She had no idea how to land. Where. Or what she would do when she did.

  Not a freaking clue.

  Trust had always been the hardest thing in the world for her, and she sensed it was that way for him as well. Only…not with others. No, Max’s trust issues lay completely with himself. With what he was, and what had happened to him. She saw it in the way that he acted during sex, always caging in his beast, refusing to let it out to play.

  And then there were the nightmares that still woke him in the night; just not as often now, and she hoped that was because they were sleeping together. Not in a sexual way—though they were pretty much having sex twenty-four seven—but actually sleeping together. As in the same bed, wrapped around each other, his strong arms holding her tight. Her own nightmares were easing too, creeping up on her less and less.

  But Max definitely had issues with what he was, and she hated that for him. It was probably one of the reasons why she’d found it so easy to accept the fact he was a Lycan, and even the bizarre changes that had taken hold of her own life. She didn’t want him to think she would have preferred him to be anything other than what and who he was, and she didn’t want him to feel that way about her either.

  Still, no matter how at odds he was with the more primal, visceral half of his soul, there was no denying that what they had together was anything but tame. It was wild and raw and, at times, almost vicious in its intensity. In its need. But she loved every explicit, exquisite second that she spent with him.

  As she ran her fingertips over his powerful forearm, stroking the veins that pressed up against his tanned skin, her lips curled as she recalled how he’d crawled over her earlier, after tossing her into the center of the mattress. He’d spent breathtaking minutes with his mouth on her breasts, her nipples still tingling from th
e way he’d sucked and nipped at them. Then he’d shocked the hell out of her when he’d gone down on her again, tonguing her swollen flesh as if it really were an act that gave him as much pleasure as it gave her. And he’d talked to her the entire time, murmuring dirty, filthy things against her sex that had made her face burn with heat, her senses so overwhelmed she couldn’t do anything but clutch at his hard shoulders with desperate hands, stroking every part of him she could reach. And just when she’d thought he was going to thrust that magnificent cock back inside her, he’d gone to his knees, gripped her ass, and pulled her up to his mouth, going even wilder on her, his head moving from side to side as he devoured her like he was literally starved for it—for her.

  “You taste so fucking sweet,” he’d groaned. And then a harder, gruffer, “Next time I get inside you, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can feel me for days.”

  That had been one of her favorite parts right there, seeing as how it’d made her come so hard she’d screamed, and the laughing, happy look on Max’s face when he’d lifted his head, licking his lips, his glittering blue gaze so dark with hunger it had reminded her of a star-studded, infinite sky, black and diamond scattered… Well, that had been an image she’d like to have in her head when she was old and gray and drawing her last breath. Because that had been the most perfect, beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  “Max,” she whispered into the quiet, not wanting to wake him if he’d fallen asleep. It was only late afternoon, and they still needed to make dinner, but if any guy deserved a nap after pleasuring the hell out of his woman, it was her guy.

  “Hmm?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.

  “This probably sounds dorky, but today was the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.”

  “The whole day?”

  She smiled as she turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder. “Every second of it.”

  The gleam in his blue eyes told her exactly how much he liked what she’d said. “Not dorky at all, baby.”