Dreaming of the Wolf (18 page)

She groaned. If he did come to get her, she’d most likely recognize him because of her enhanced sense of smell and know she was a dead woman before the deed was done. Some help that would be.

She rinsed out her hair, grabbed her bottle of peach body wash and poured some on her hands, then slathered her whole body with the silky, fragrant wash. It helped disguise the unfamiliar, unwanted odors in the bathroom and hotel room.

After towel drying her hair and body, she stalked back into the bedroom, unzipped her bag, and drew out a silky blue nightie. She pulled it on, then climbed into bed and slipped between the harsh sheets. She was glad they smelled of bleach and not the last occupant’s odor. Sometimes to save money and to avoid the work, the hotel staff didn’t bother to change the sheets between customers. Not that she’d let them get away with it.

Woe to those who didn’t have a wolf’s senses and couldn’t detect such a thing. On the other hand, there was something to be said about the old adage—
Ignorance
is
bliss
.

She closed her eyes, wanting to welcome her dream lover into her arms, and waited. Breathless with anticipation.

The first time he had come to her, she had known it was just a dream. Very, very real, but just a dream. And she loved conjuring him up, loved making him come to her. He was every bit as much an addiction as chocolate—the really rich dark kind.

She breathed in the stale air, the smell of bleached sheets, the faint odor of cigarette smoke in what was supposed to be a nonsmoking room, the dustiness. Felt the scratchy sheets against her bare skin and the equally scratchy comforter decorated in brown palm trees that probably had never been washed, noted the picture of palm trees nailed to the wall—and wondered if the Colorado motel owner fantasized about having a resort in Florida. She hated not being in her own bedroom on her comfortable saggy mattress, the sheets super soft, and having her pillow, too.

But she was afraid if she returned there for very long, they’d catch up to her. If she could, she’d clean out her bank account, give notice, take as much from her apartment as she could fit into her car, and leave the rest behind with no forwarding address. Although she’d worked hard to afford her furniture, and she hated having to abandon it.

Sometime during the night, as the heat of the day subsided and a dry coolness filled the room, she began to slip off to the world of sleep.

Vaguely she became aware of another presence in her room.

At
first, a peculiar sense of recognition washed over her, reassuring her that she was safe, that whoever or whatever she was sensing wouldn’t harm her.

Then
she
saw
him, materializing in the darkness like a shadowed lover. Distractedly, she remembered the phone call she hadn’t made. Damn. Tomorrow, first thing.

Jake
approached, and she forgot everything else but him.

Advancing, his hair the color of rich, dark-brown earth after a summer rain, his eyes of the same shade and darkly intense, his masculine lips curved up faintly in the hint of a smile, he moved toward her in a slow, methodical, predatory way. In the past few weeks, when her world seemed only to be spiraling downhill faster, only Jake had made her life bearable after that fateful night she’d been turned. And she wanted him at night, every night, for as long as she lived, which might not be very long the way things were going.

Naked, he flexed his muscles, stood a little taller, and saw her and only her. Still covered in the comforter up to her neck because of the chill in the air, she gave him a refrained smile back. It was always the same. An acknowledgment that they were here in concert for this, but no wild throwing themselves together in the heat of the moment. Deep down, she felt it was because she feared that if she did leap from the bed and jump into his waiting arms, he’d just vanish. Poof. And never come again.

So
she
waited
for
him, waited for his large capable fingers to pull back the comforter, to feel his hands lifting her gown off her. He always started with his gentle, then urgent strokes, his lips and tongue teasing her, his mouth on her breast.

But
this
time
he
seemed
hesitant. She frowned a little. He couldn’t leave her now. Not when he was the only bright spot in her life. A too-real figment of her imagination.

He
raked
his
fingers
through
his
hair. She parted her lips as if to speak. She never had spoken to him before. Had never needed to. Didn’t think she really could. But he seemed so unsure, as if he was reevaluating why he was here.

He
couldn’t. He was here because she made him come. She pulled her arms free from the comforter and was about to stretch them out to him, to encourage him to join her. How could he come to her and then decide he couldn’t do this?

And
then
he
sighed, although she never could hear sounds in her dreams, except for the blood rushing in her ears, her own panting breath when he stroked her into submission, her heart beating wildly. Her smile widened.

But
he
didn’t smile back. Still reserved, she thought. Still bothered by something. Yet he approached her with an aggressive stride, yanked the covers aside, and stared at her belly, the pale blue gown she wore having risen to her thighs. Her naked legs didn’t hold his attention, but his gaze focused on her waist. He slid the silky fabric up her thighs, past her hips, higher until her belly was exposed, then kissed her there. She wasn’t sure how to read his actions, but then she reached for him, spread her legs willingly, opened herself to him, and encouraged him to join her.

He
climbed
onto
the
bed, situating himself between her legs, but kept his weight off her as he tackled her mouth with his. His kiss was hard and fierce, his jaw lightly whiskered and rough. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she’d have whisker burns on her cheeks after they made love. His tongue dove into her mouth, impatient, impassioned, and she met his craving move for move. God, he was beautiful and she desired him with all her heart.

“You’re the only good thing in my life,” she mouthed against his lips, wishing there could be more to their relationship than this.

He
paused, staring at her with such intensity that it was as if he’d truly heard her words and felt her sentiment, and then he kissed her hard again. His hand encompassed a breast, fondled, and stroked, caressed her nipple with the pad of his thumb, teasing the tip, which was tingling and aching with need. Her breasts were slightly tender, fuller, more sensitive to his touch. Then his mouth moved down her throat, and he brushed his lips across her sensitive skin, licking her there. He seemed desperate with wanting her, just as much as she felt about him. His hand stroked her deeply between her legs, where she was already hot and wet and swollen for him, her core aching with such an intensity that she could barely last.

She
envisioned
she
was
still
at
home
in
her
own
bed
with
the
man
in
her
dreams
making
wild
passionate
love
with
her. His fingers dipped in between her legs, caressing her into climax while she gripped his waist and never wanted to let go.

She
felt
the
earth
shift, the bed, the room, the whole world as she reached the peak and shattered with the most riveting ecstasy. Vaguely, she felt his fingers withdraw before he filled her with his arousal, hard and hot and very much ready for action.

But
this
time
he
raised
her
legs
over
his
shoulders
for
maximum
penetration
and
dove
into
her
with
hard, deep, satisfying thrusts, his face dipping to kiss her breast, to lick the nipple, her hands running through his hair as she moaned with satisfaction. He knew how to give her pleasure like she’d never felt before. His lusty gaze shifted to hers. His expression was still dark, and she couldn’t read it now. Before, he’d always been so pleased with her, to see her, to be with her, but now… something was amiss. As if he was tired of playing this game. But he was hers, her dream. He had to be here for her whenever she drifted off to her fantasy world of dreams.

She
moaned
as
he
stole
her
thoughts, brought her rising again on another tidal wave of pleasure, had her grasping for his sinewy arms, and he groaned, pumping into her until he was spent, then collapsed and didn’t move. He was heavy and sweaty and felt protective and manly and wonderful.

He
lay
there
for
some
time, and at first she thought her dream lover had fallen asleep, but then he lifted his head, sighed, and rolled off her, then pulled her into his arms and held her tight. He kissed the top of her head, caressing her arm with a soft touch. He’d kiss her and caress her and nap and take her again and again all night long, and by morning, he’d be gone, and she’d still miss him. Until the night returned.

She’d started taking naps during the day to manage the nights. But a vaguely ominous worry crept into the dream. She couldn’t shake loose of the feeling that Jake was in danger—and all because of her.

But then something else seized her attention. A sound. Not a key, but…
something
… like… the sound of a plastic card being slipped between the doorjamb and the door with a hard whooshing, sliding sound.

Like someone was trying to break into her room.

Alicia
was
cloaked
in
the
warmth
of
her
dream
state, still wrapped in Jake’s arms when he turned to look at the rickety motel-room door that could easily have been shattered with a swift booted kick. His hand froze in midcaress along Alicia’s arm, as if he could recognize that someone was trying to break into her room. Then he set Alicia aside, climbed out of bed, and stalked toward the door like her knight without his armor.

For
a
second, she didn’t know what to do. Get dressed, her mind shouted at her. Get her gun, do something—before Jake is killed.

Her
heart
had
picked up into a flight-or-fight mode, and the adrenaline was already pouring through her veins. But she couldn’t move. She was frozen in place, only able to stare at him and at the door.

Then
she
felt
her
mind
awakening. She was still in a dream. Jake wasn’t really here!

Still half-asleep, she tried to break free of the dreamy fog that shrouded her mind. If she didn’t fully wake from the dream, whoever was trying to break into the scuzzy room would be in soon, and she could be in real danger.

Unless…
she
sighed
deeply
… that was only part of the dream.