Deceiving the Protector (17 page)

“No.” Not even a little. “Because for the first time in my life, I’m making a choice about what I want. And I choose
you.
But if you don’t do something about—”

His mouth was on hers, swallowing her words and scrambling what few of her synapses were still connecting. His tongue found hers, taking advantage of her open mouth, stroking over it even as he pulled her flush against him. Hot. Skin like heated marble slid against hers, the water sluicing between them, over them. She melted. From the inside out, she simply softened into a puddle for him to hold. Which he did, those strong hands kneading her hip, cupping the back of her head to keep her exactly where he wanted her.

Then he proceeded to lick, nip and stroke his way past any thought she might have dragged together. She breathed him in, savoring his taste and craving more. Her hands worked up his chest of their own accord, sliding into the heavy, wet strands at his nape. He swallowed her sigh of absolute pleasure, growling into her mouth when she rubbed the tingling tips of her fingers against his scalp, just because she could.

He lightened his hold only when he’d thoroughly scrambled her thoughts. She leaned back into the wall, her lips falling from his, eyelids barely open except she didn’t want to stop looking at him. At his hard, angular face, its beauty purely male. Possessively, she couldn’t restrain the smile at the knowledge that in this moment, he was purely hers.

“Something like that?”

She swallowed, her throat thick and her tongue too heavy to form words. “Uh-huh.”

His smile spoke of his own possessiveness. Those yellow-gold eyes glittered, the tips of his claws indenting her skin ever so slightly as he glided them down her wet spine until he could cup her rear with one wide-spread palm. “You know I’ll claim you for this, don’t you?”

Her vision changed, heightened to a nearly forgotten sharpness, colors fading at the edges of his face. “Maybe I’m claiming you instead.”

For the slightest moment, he hesitated, his eyes widening with surprise before gleaming fangs descended in his predatory grin. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he stared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. “Maybe you are.”

She wanted to ask what he meant, but she didn’t want to waste the moment. She pushed at his chest, wanting the space to see what she was about to touch. To taste. Her mouth watered at just the thought.

He seemed to know what she wanted, changing his stance slightly, arching his back and extending one arm wide as if to say,
Here I am, take me.

Lia looked down at the hand still cupping half her ass, then back up to his unrepentant—not to mention far-too-pleased-with-himself—expression.

“I’m supposed to help you out a little, remember?” He emphasized that with a stroke along the crease where the curve met her inner thigh, which nearly sent her into a spasm. Then he hissed, eyes closing, fangs flashing.

Because she’d dragged her clawed hands down his neck and over the rippling muscles of his chest.

“I thought you couldn’t shift without pain.” Was that awe or pleasure on his face?

“Me either, but you have the strangest effect on my body.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual. Now do it again,” he growled, command in his tone even as his body remained still in her hold. Against her belly, the iron scald of his cock throbbed.

“But there’s so much down here to find,” she answered, barely recognizing her own daring. Her blood sang through her veins, vitality all but glittering in its wake. Challenge and demand washed over her. This was what freedom felt like, she realized, rising on her toes to nip at his jaw. Her hand closed around him, the satiny steel hardness fitting into her palm as if made for her touch. “Mine,” she heard herself rumble, her own voice nearly indiscernible.

He groaned, flexing his hips into her grip, stroking himself inside her fist. “Fuck, that feels good.”

And it did. She worked her hand down, taking her time coming back up, petting the rounded, plum-shaped head carefully. Reverently. “Didn’t you want me to stop?”

“I’m not
that
stupid, Sunshine.”

She laughed, stroking him up his full length and back down again, letting the tip glide up the length of her forearm as she did it again…and again…and again. She could keep doing this forever, she thought, loving how good it felt to be the one leading. To dictate his pleasure. Could she take him over the edge this way, by making him quake the way he had done for her earlier? Was that what she wanted…or did she want more from him?

More.
Without question.

She leaned forward to lick the water off his chest, sucking at his skin. Yes, oh yesss…The flavor of him exploded in her mouth. Something wild, a spice she couldn’t name, a crispness that made her crave more. She stopped thinking.

He shuddered openly, lowering his forehead to hers. If he’d done anything else, she would have kept up the teasing, but that one movement, the vulnerability he offered every time he did it, stilled her hand.

“I’m doing my best to be good, Lia. To let you take us both where you want us to go.”

“But?” Did he want her to stop? Her heart stuttered. That couldn’t be what he wanted. Her hand tightened on him, opening reflexively when he sucked in another breath in response. She wasn’t sure what to do until his hand wrapped around hers, closing her around him again.

“But I can’t promise to be this submissive forever. It’s not who I am.”

No, it wasn’t. She looked into his eyes, knew she was staring into the Wolf as well as the man. Both of them stared back, hiding nothing of his power, of his hunger. Intensity burned from them, like a flash fire that could engulf her if she let it.

If.

“I don’t want you submissive.” That was the truth. She wanted all his strength. The raw power she’d always sensed from him. She wanted to meet it. Wanted to challenge him, take him on and win against him only if she deserved it. “I want you just the way you are.”

“The way I am is about to pick you up and fuck you until we’re both screaming our way into unconsciousness.”

Laughter sputtered through her lips.

“I love it when you laugh,” he said suddenly, so serious that her breath caught in her lungs. “I love making you laugh.”

The way she loved making him smile? Because she had to peel so many layers back to find the real one and it was a reward all by itself.

“You’re the only one who does,” she replied, knowing her solemnity belied the topic.

“For now.” And it sounded somehow like a promise. Before she could say anything else, he leaned down to lick her lips, setting them tingling. “Stay right there. I want to try something.”

Did he really expect her to go anywhere?

He squirted more soap into his hands, then he lifted them to her breasts. Each one cupped her, slowly, the calluses on his fingers creating a strange friction beneath the slickness of the soap and the water. She rose up on her toes in response, her sex answering with an echoing throb.

“Since the first second I saw you, I’ve been trying to figure out what your breasts looked like, how they might feel in my hands,” he admitted roughly, fitting their hips against each other again, nudging at her with what almost felt like unconscious thrusts. “God, I had no idea my imagination was so shitty.”

She sighed, a smile curving her lips into possibly the silliest expression she could ever remember wearing. Not that it mattered. She could get used to this. His hands slid underneath, caressing her ribs with his palms while his thumbs danced along the curve, just missing the points that were tightening for his touch. From there, he drifted to her back, gliding over her spine, dipping just that little bit lower with each pass. They came back around, to the front of her hips, spreading heat to the lowest part of her belly before climbing up the length of her to her ribs again.

Melted. Puddle. Of. Girl.

“I want to taste you, Lia.” His thumbs circled her nipples, just as his thigh slid between hers, the coarse hair there tickling her skin. She parted for him without even thinking about it. He lowered his head again, his beard rubbing the side of her face, voice rumbling into her ear drums. “I want to fill my mouth with you.”

She jumped at the deliberate squeeze of the sensitized tips just as his fangs pinched her earlobe. Some unintelligible noise tore from her throat. His hands returned to their circuit over her body, but instead of merely grazing her bottom, this time he filled both palms with her, his claws finding the fold again, as if that were his personal handhold.

She leaped against him, dragging her hips up his leg until the hard muscles there met the juncture of her thighs.

“I want to fill your mouth with me,” he whispered to her guttural groan.

The air in the bathroom completely disappeared with that image stealing into her imagination. Yes, she wanted that too. Could imagine how he’d feel beneath her tongue, wondered how he might taste. Her hands clasped his waist, using his body as leverage to rub against him as heat rose in her. To demand more. Demand everything.

His mouth, open and hot, found hers again. She reached for him too, hungrily dueling with him in this most intimate of ways. Drinking him down, taking from him as he took from her, the sensual battle one she sensed she was winning. At least until his hand left her rear to dip between her and the thigh he’d given her to ride. The claws disappeared, only the pads of his fingers stroking her, parting her.

Her eyes opened wide as he made himself comfortable with the slick moisture she knew had nothing to do with the shower or the soap. The broad tip of his finger found the melted core of her, circled it while the ball of his hand rubbed gentle circles where she throbbed the most. She jerked in his hold, moving her hips back and forth to counter his strokes. Like a fever spreading, heat suffused her, crawling up her belly and concentrating in her breasts. In the desperate points she reached for with her hands, trying to stroke them, but it wasn’t enough. She arched harder, the water spraying her skin but not giving her what she needed. She wanted his mouth, the way it had been in the car.

“Tate!”

The cry tore from her lips just as his finger slipped inside her. Less than a heartbeat later, he dropped down to draw as much of her breast into his mouth as he could.

Working in tandem, his tongue flicked at her nipple as his finger slid in and out, both of them pulling her in different directions. She didn’t know where to concentrate, how to respond.

“Just let go.” His deep voice sounded against her breastbone. Nibbling kisses worked over toward her other, neglected nipple. “Let me give this to you.”

“I don’t know how,” she breathed, wishing she did. She’d give anything to satisfy this terrible building sensation in her body.

“Then let me try something different.” He eased her down, revealing to her that he’d lifted her completely off the ground. Her body all but clean of soap, he licked his way from her second breast to her belly, making it quiver completely against her will. Soon, he was pressing kisses to the golden nest of curls above her sex. She rolled forward for him, willing to let him kiss anything he wanted.

Until his hands found the inside face of her thigh and pushed it aside.

Before she could so much as squeak a protest—honestly, she wasn’t at all sure that she would have—his open mouth found her, his tongue sliding between the folds to draw out the thick juices that seemed to have turned into a desperate flow. Her whole body shook, shuddering with a tension she couldn’t escape. His finger pressed into her, hinting at the sensation of fullness. Of completion. Teasing.

She reached down, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling so he would come up to her. He opened his eyes, the feral glowing stare boring into her, demanding she give him what he wanted. He stopped laving the hard nub he’d found, instead, he drew it into his mouth and sucked, rubbing it between his lips while the throbbing pressure built and built.

Finally, her gaze locked to his, his tongue slicked one last time and she crested, her mind turning to a flash of white and power and honeyed fire like she’d never known existed. She’d have sunk to the floor if he hadn’t caught her, draping her arms over his shoulders to keep her with him.

He soothed her, rubbing his hands up and down her back, letting the water take the last of the shampoo away from her hair. She slowly came back down to herself, grateful for the strength of his arms around her. She couldn’t help but smile when his hands began to swoop lower, caressing her ass gently. Almost absently.

But she knew him well enough now to know he did nothing absently.

“You get kinky on me and you’ll be limping all the way back to Resurrection, Pretty Boy.”

The pleased rumble in his chest didn’t bode well. Neither did the grin he buried against her neck. “That depends on how you define kinky.”

Smile wide, unwilling to believe that this kind of satisfaction was meant to come alone, she spread her hands on his chest. His skin, hot and smooth, only made her want to pet over him more. Memorizing it, she traced it with her fingers down his abdomen. His body hair tickled her fingers, the path of it growing richer from his belly and lower to where the thick flesh of his cock still nudged against her abdomen. She sighed happily as she encircled it with her hand again, gripping it tight, only growing happier when it leaped at her touch. She pumped him, short, fast strokes she hoped made him feel the way she had when his tongue had flickered over her clit like a lick of fire.

“Goddamn you learn fast,” he growled, placing his forehead against hers the way he did whenever he stole her breath. Even his kiss, wet and mind-numbing, wasn’t enough to make her stop. “I wanted to take things slow with you, damn it.”

“You did,” she whispered, thoroughly enjoying her toy. Her hands slid up and he shuddered, his chest stroking hers, just the way she wanted. Up and down she moved, rubbing her nipples over him, pleasuring herself as well. She bobbed faster, wanting to send him flying as she had done. He bucked in her hold, delighting her.