Changing Hearts (10 page)

She noted the broad shoulders. She’d seen them before. The urge to kiss him right there, right between his shoulders hit her hard. She bit her lip instead. The wolf and bleeding heart tattoo on his shoulder blade caught her attention. She traced it with her eyes but from his reaction she might as well have actually touched him. He sat up straighter even as he turned his head to catch her gaze.

The look in his glowing brown eyes should have scared her silly. Instead she felt her body reacting. Her breasts felt heavier. She could feel her nipples pressing against the cotton bra covering them.

Joie swallowed hard then nodded her assent. He turned his back to her again. She took a step closer to him then stepped back quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

Slade didn’t move. He gripped his knees to keep from grabbing her. He could hear Joie moving through the house. She went into the bathroom where he heard the sound of running water. A door down the hall opened and closed then she came back.

Joie stopped in the doorway. Slade turned his head to watch her. She had a towel in one hand and a small water bottle in the other. It didn’t escape him that she was aroused. Her scent reached him, strong and heady.

Lilacs, damn if she doesn’t smell like lilacs.
Underlying the lilac scent were other herbs he’d smelled in her workshop. Her eyes shone, she still bit her lower lip, and her nipples poked hard against the bra and t-shirt she wore. He wanted to suckle her right through the cloth, to nip at her breasts and mark her as his. Slade started to turn toward her, his intent evident in his eyes still focused on her breasts. He glanced up briefly.

Joie halted, shaking her head and, to his own disbelief, he stopped moving. Slade let his eyes move slowly from her face to her breasts then back to her face. A light flush covered her face and neck and he knew, just knew, that this was how she would look after she came. All the blood in his body rushed to his groin.

Slade felt his erection pressing against his jeans, felt the zipper moving. He hadn’t buttoned the jeans when he’d gotten out of the shower. He wanted to yank them off, throw her skirt up and take her hard and fast against the wall, the floor, it didn’t matter where.

Joie moved to the side and he tracked her movement with just his eyes. He wanted her to run away from him. Then he’d have an excuse to chase her.
Chase her, catch her, carry her down to the ground beneath him and then bury himself deep inside her body.

He wanted to claim her, mate with her, hold her in his arms and make love to her. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside her that she’d never accept any other male. So deep that he could feel her heat surrounding him, hear her voice, feel her nails on his skin. So deep that…

Slade realized his need had translated into growling. He’d never felt this way for any other female. She did something to him, something he didn’t know how to control, didn’t have a name for.
Shit. It’s too fucking close to the full moon for this.
He spun around, angry with himself for reacting to her and angry with her for…shit…just angry. “Cut my hair, Joie.”

Joie approached him cautiously. Unsure of his current mood, she’d been ready to run from him just a moment ago. She thought he’d probably catch her before she got to the back door, but the flight reaction had been there. She remembered her feeling about the injured wolf, how she’d recognized him as a predator. That same reaction had been present a moment before.

Taking a deep breath, she set the water bottle down beside the scissors on the table. Draping the towel she’d brought back from the bathroom over his shoulders, she was careful not to touch his bare skin. She could feel the heat emanating off him. Joie carefully gathered his hair in her hands, pulling it out from underneath the towel.

Running her fingers through his hair, she sectioned it off. Before her parent’s death she’d lived near a horse farm. She remembered the days that she would approach the horses to stroke them just to feel their warmth. Malcolm’s hair reminded her of the mane of one of her favorite horses. She turned to pick up the scissors. When she turned back, she found him watching her over his shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Her voice quavered slightly.

“Cut it.” His voice sounded more like a growl than anything else.

Joie swallowed hard then sprayed his still-damp hair with the water. She snipped off a long section. Holding it in her hand for a moment, she sighed and turned her attention to her task. Joie could hear her own breathing. She could hear the snip of the scissors. And she could feel his temperature rising.

The scent of the generic shampoo she used came from his hair as she cut it. Under that she could smell him. Not the soap he’d used in the shower, him. He smelled like the woods, like the earth, like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

Joie took her time mainly because she didn’t want to stop touching him. Malcolm had closed his eyes when she made the first cut, and he kept them closed. She wondered how long he’d been letting his hair grow. Once down to the middle of his back in length, it now barely touched his shoulders. She couldn’t bring herself to cut it any shorter.

When she made the last cut she stood just to his side. He suddenly opened his eyes and stared straight at her as though he’d known where she was the entire time.

Joie took a deep breath as his gaze dropped to her breasts again. She hated that. Having large breasts at her size was ridiculous. Most men never met her eyes, Malcolm had been the exception, and it irritated her that now he couldn’t keep his eyes off her breasts. She gasped when he pulled her against his body but before she could protest, his mouth covered hers.

Heat. Intense, searing heat came off him in waves. One of his hands slid around her waist, the other held the back of her neck. Her hands fell to his shoulders even though she still held the scissors in one hand. Malcolm angled his head slightly as he licked across her bottom lip. Joie opened her mouth then groaned as his tongue slid across hers. She dropped the scissors and clutched at him. He shifted on the chair so that she straddled his legs.

She felt him pulling her skirt up with the hand that had been around her waist. He eased her down so that she sat on his lap, never releasing her neck. Joie leaned toward him, pressing her breasts against his chest.

Malcolm groaned now. He pulled her even closer, one hand now pressing against her lower back just above her buttocks. He moved his mouth to her chin then her neck. His goatee felt soft against her skin. Joie leaned back slightly as his mouth moved over her neck.

She gasped and jerked when he gently bit her collarbone. Not because it hurt, but because it made every nerve in her body come to immediate attention. He still pressed her hips against his body now he shifted his own hips so that she could feel him—hot, hard and more than ready.

The sound of a car pulling up outside caused both of them to jump. Slade met her eyes as he shifted her yet again, lifting his own hips under her, letting her know of his willingness to ignore the car if she would. Joie shook her head then shoved herself away from him. Slade stretched his legs out in front of him then ran his hand from the center of his chest down to the opening of his jeans. His eyes never left her face but her eyes followed his hand.

Slade pushed his hand into the opening of his jeans and readjusted his straining erection. Joie couldn’t take her eyes off his hand and he knew he would make love to her before too much more time passed. The attraction between them felt too strong. The feel of her, the taste of her were both branded in his mind just like the tattoos on his body. She would be his.

He got to his feet, keeping his gaze on her as he slowly eased the zipper of his jeans up then buttoned them. Joie took a deep breath as he moved to stand directly in front of her.

They both heard footsteps on the front porch then the rap of knuckles on the doorframe. Slade leaned down to cup the back of her head with one hand. She put her hands on his chest and he felt the bite of her nails as she curled her hands against him.

Slade grinned as he kissed her swiftly and soundly then released her. He strolled through the back door, snagging his shirt off the clothesline as he went through the yard. He glanced at the car in the drive then froze.

A fucking sheriff’s car! Slade took off across the yard, heading for the shed.
Shit! She called the sheriff? When had she done that? Damn human, I knew I couldn’t trust her.

As soon as he gained the safety of the shed, he stared back at the house. He saw Joie and a deputy come out onto the back porch. The deputy carried a wire cage.

Joie took the cage then laughed as the man stepped off the porch and headed for his car. Slade watched as Joie nodded to the deputy and continued to watch until the man left the yard. Joie looked down at the cage then started for the shed.

Slade took a deep breath. Otter. The deputy had brought her an injured otter. He shook his newly shorn head with a chuckle. She hadn’t betrayed him. Apparently she hadn’t even mentioned him to the deputy.

Shucking his jeans behind the woodshed, he left them and the clean t-shirt on the top of the low building as he shifted. With his transformation complete, he took off at an easy pace.

Damn if the woman hadn’t left him hard and aching yet again. It must be time to check the perimeter, make sure no sign of the others existed anywhere around.

“He left. I can’t believe he left.” Her voice echoed in her ears. She’d talked to the deputy. She’d dealt with the poor otter. And Malcolm had left. A tear escaped but she batted it away with her hand. No man would ever make her cry again. There’d been enough of that in Atlanta. “I don’t know why it should hurt anyway. I should be used to being left.”

But still, why had he left and where had he gone? What if he never came back? Joie sank down on the porch to lean back against the gray weathered railing. What on earth was she going to do about Malcolm if he did come back? Energy surged through her. Sit here on this porch like a lost little girl waiting for her mother? No way.

Joie walked the yard. As she rounded the back of the house, she noticed his clothes adorning the shed. Relief washed over her. He would be coming back and he wanted to make love to her.

“Oh God, what am I going to do?” He might leave tomorrow or the next day. Could she take her one shot at having a mad passionate affair before he permanently erased himself from her life?
Tante
Kay’s words came back to her then. “No better time than today.”

“Could I?” Joie spoke again to the empty yard. Her gaze roamed restlessly from the edge of the bayou to the tree line and the road. Would he be back soon? What were the pros and cons of actually letting herself do what she wanted? Would he be as incredible a lover as she imagined? The way he kissed her, the feel of his hands on her body, all made her knees weak. But what about when he fled the bayou? Would she be able to just have a brief physical relationship? Not give her heart to someone she shared intimacy with?

Joie stopped in the middle of the yard. The heat of the day wrapped around her. Then Joie realized why she knew she could sleep with Malcolm. He already had a large part of her heart. When had that happened? Then it hit her. Yesterday he’d stretched out of
Tante
’s car into her world in human form. That had been “all she wrote” for Joie’s heart where Malcolm was concerned.

Her ex hadn’t done that. Not even the night she’d conceived had he truly rocked her world. That had been an accident, a happy one for her but not for him. The arguments they’d had about whether or not she’d even have the baby, much less keep it. Tears welled in her eyes again. Shaking those memories aside, Joie paced back to the shed, forcing her thoughts back to Malcolm.

This strong, gorgeous man wanted her, but he wouldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay because of the people…the Pack…chasing him. For a moment she let herself dream of a baby with Malcolm’s eyes and cinnamon hair curling against soft sweet-smelling baby skin. And Malcolm laughing down at both of them.
Silly girl, stop dreaming about what can’t be.

She almost laughed at the thought of a relationship based only on sex. That sort of thing happened to other people, not to her. She’d never been the type to even inspire such thoughts, much less be having them. But she realized now that it wasn’t just a physical attraction. At least not for her…

Deep inside, she knew that he would never hurt her physically. The fact that he hadn’t forced himself on her at any time, that he’d stopped kissing her when she’d asked even though his very obvious arousal had pressed against her, weighed heavily in his favor.

Somewhere, hidden under that tough, mean façade beat a good heart. Perhaps being here with her and
Tante
Kay would help him discover the goodness in his own heart.

But what about her own heart? Would it be enough for her to love him without him truly loving her? Perhaps the healing she sought here would work for him as well. Joie knew she searched for healing of her heart. She wondered if Malcolm didn’t search, unknowingly, for healing of his soul.

Joie watched a flock of birds fly over the bayou. Their freedom echoed Malcolm’s. The question of whether she could make love with him, even if they only had one night together, suddenly seemed less important. She couldn’t take a wild thing’s wildness away. Would sleeping with Malcolm do that? Would he feel obligated to stay? Suddenly she knew that she would never hold him against his will, even if she took what he offered. She gritted her teeth as she clenched her fists. It would take all of her strength to love him and let him go.

“Can I do this?” The sound of her own voice jolted her slightly, but caused a great blue heron to squawk in dismay as it left its fishing perch. Joie glanced around but still no sign of Malcolm. It occurred to her that he might have left already. He didn’t need those clothes. He’d already proven that he could leave as a wolf and return fully clothed as a man. The hitch in her breathing told her how much she would regret that. Could she really let him leave without once, just once in her life tasting the passion?