Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (20 page)

“Do you need some help?” She jumped at his voice.
His velvety, deep voice. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising to attention.

Blinking a few times, she could feel the heat slowly creep across her face. She’d been sitting on the bed drooling over him while he chopped up vegetables for stew. Nice.

“No. I’m good. Just kinda tired. My mind keeps wandering off.” All true. Just not specific.

She met his eyes and blushed harder.
“I’ll just finish up the second bed. Do we have blankets? I imagine it’ll get cold tonight.”

John cleared his throat.
“Yeah. There should be a few in the overhead bin, above the bed. You can take whatever is there. I’ll be fine.”

She looked up at the bin he’d pointed out. She’d have to crawl on the bed to reach it.

Seeing her dilemma, he said, “I’ll get them.” At which point he stretched up to open the door. Lizzie was at least a foot away from his chest, but it felt like a few inches. As he stretched, his T-shirt hiked up and she could see a strip of skin in between his low-slung jeans and the rising shirt. Just a few inches. But enough to spark her imagination. And her memory. She was so lost to lust, she almost asked him if he wore underwear. She couldn’t see how she could miss them, with his jeans riding as low as they were.

And sanity returned just in time.
She took a breath…and inhaled the smell of clean, warm man. He always smelled slightly of clove, maybe from his soap? Or was it just him? She adored the smell of clove. She couldn’t remember if she had always loved it so much. Or maybe the scent reminded her of John and brought all of those feelings, the warm, squishy, melty feelings that she had for him, to the surface. She blinked, and he was handing her the blankets. Then he caught her eye, and she knew. She knew with absolute certainty, he was just as lost as she was. In the moment. In his attraction to her. His nostrils flared. His eyes were dilated. Then he blinked and turned away.

“I’ll be warm enough without them. They’re all yours.”

He turned back to the stew he was making. It looked like the vegetables were chopped, and he was working on browning the meat.

“Do you need some help with dinner?” she asked.

He caught her eye over his shoulder.
“No. I’m good. Do you want a beer or a glass of wine?” They’d stopped at the grocery shortly before arriving at the park.

What could it hurt?
And maybe it would help…“Hmm, that sounds good. I’ll have some wine. A glass for you?” she asked him.

“Sit down,” he said. “I’ll get it.”

Lizzie couldn’t believe it. He cooked. He could pour wine without any dribbles. This guy was so out of her league. “Thanks,” she said as he set a glass down in front of her.

“So you cook a lot?” she asked.

He was wiping up the tiny bit of counter space and tidying the kitchen area, so it looked like dinner prep might be done.

“Not really. I mean, simple things, sure. Like this stew. Although, I have to warn you, real stew actually cooks for much longer. This is the fast, cheater variety. I actually have a housekeeper who cooks a handful of meals for me on Monday. I get detailed instructions on which containers get heated at what temperature.
” He must have seen her thoughtful look, because he raised his eyebrows and asked, “What?”

“I was just thinking...” She hesitated.
“Nothing.”

“Now you’ve piqued my curiosity.” He waited patiently.

“Well, I feel like I know you, but I don’t know very much about your pack or your job or even that you have a housekeeper who cooks for you on Mondays.” She had a sudden, very unpleasant thought. “You’re not married, are you? And just don’t wear a ring?”

His denial was immediate and forceful. “No.
” He lightened his tone and continued. “Although Lycan don’t usually wear jewelry, even a wedding ring.” He paused, then before she could ask, he added, “And I’m not engaged. Not even dating. Unless you consider this a date.” He grinned at her.

That surprised a low chuckle out of her. “I’m not sure flight from a shared enemy can be considered a date.” She’d finished her first glass of wine and was contemplating a second
, so Lizzie was feeling a little brave. “Unless
you
consider it a date.” She grinned back at him.

He raised his glass for a toast, managing to make eye contact while
gently clinking glasses. “To our first date.”

“To our first date,” she replied. Just as she was taking a sip, his cell phone timer beeped signaling
that the stew should be ready.

They ate in companionable silence. Lizzie was hungrier than she had realized, and contrary to John’s disclaimer
about his cooking skills, the meal was excellent. John had given her fair warning in advance that Lycan take their food seriously. A hearty appetite was a necessity when you burned roughly twice the calories of a human man, per John’s explanation. So the meal passed without much conversation.

Lizzie had insisted on doing the washing up, since John had cooked. He’
d agreed, but only if she let him dry. So they stood side by side at the small sink, occasionally bumping elbows gently, as they washed and dried the dishes.

Lizzie couldn’t believe that something as simple as washing dishes could have her in such a state of frustrated arousal. Ever
y time his hand brushed hers, she accidentally elbowed his side, or her hip bumped him, she could feel her desire ratcheting up. By the time she was washing the wine glasses, it occurred to her that there was no way John could
not
smell her arousal. Awkward.

Just as she was frantically trying to decide what to say, if anything, John spoke up. “I don’t know about you, but I’m wiped. I’m headed to bed. Do you want the bathroom first?”

“Yes, thanks.”

A few minutes later, she popped out of the tiny bathroom,
and headed for her camper bunk. John was waiting patiently outside the bathroom, shaving kit in hand. The aisle of the camper was narrow and John’s frame took up much of the room. She moved to squeeze by and in the process her breasts brushed up against his chest. His hand rested briefly on her upper arm, so warm that she could feel the heat through her nightshirt. She tipped her chin up and caught his eyes with her own. She could feel her nipples hardening into little pebbles against his chest, aching to be touched. He lowered his head, so close she could feel the exhalation on her cheek. Then he moved his hand from her arm and brushed the frantically beating pulse in her neck with his thumb. Slowly, he ran his thumb lower, the pad coming to rest softly in the hollow at the base of her neck. Then he continued, and traced the edge of her collarbone.

Her breath was coming in short pants, but her hands still hung quietly at her sides. The
n he leaned down close to her right ear and whispered, “Good night,” and stepped around her into the bathroom.

Not sure exactly what had just happened, and
, more importantly, why she’d been paralyzed and standing passively the entire time, she climbed slowly under her sheets and two blankets and closed her eyes. Before her pulse had steadied, exhaustion overcame her and she fell into a deep sleep.

Max and
Kenna made it as far as Albuquerque without mishap. They had agreed to stop overnight in New Mexico. They were supposed to be laying a false trail, so there had to be enough crumbs for the bad guys to actually follow them. ATM, gas station, motel. All stops a traveler would reasonably make. Kenna only hoped the trail wasn’t too obvious.

They had shared driving duties, switching positions with every stop.
Kenna was driving as they entered Albuquerque. She planned to check in with Jack once they got settled in the motel room. Other than that, she expected a tense and awkward night. Max had made a number of conversational overtures throughout the day and she had been persistently unresponsive. Not ignoring him, but not inviting further chitchat. She was feeling downright unfriendly. But Max made her uncomfortable. And men never made her uncomfortable.

“I’ll go check us in,” Max said as they pulled into the motel parking lot. He had called earlier to check availability but hadn’t reserved a room. Max hopped out as soon as the car pulled to a stop at the motel entrance.

As Max checked in, Kenna parked the car...and started to consider a night in a shared hotel room with Max. She and Max were supposed to
share a room. Supposed lovers John and Lizzie certainly would have, and, as decoys, she and Max were mimicking the couple’s expected behavior. Imagining being in a small, confined space with Max was mildly unnerving. She took the key out of the ignition and rested her head on the steering wheel. He was so
nice
. And funny. A lot like Brian. Her ex had been easygoing and well-liked. He had looked nothing like Max, but they both seemed to share an open, friendly personality.

Kenna
enjoyed dating. Hell, she liked sex. And if she was going to have any kind of sex life, dating was a necessity. She may not be ready for a serious, long-term relationship, but one-night stands weren’t appealing either. So she drifted from one casual boyfriend to another with long spaces of time just for herself in between.

Max was different
. She really liked him. Not a hang-for-a-few-days kind of like. Rather, the kind of like that led to friendship. The kind of like that could possibly lead to love. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut at the thought of having those feelings for someone again.
Gah. Open your eyes. Open the door. Walk in the motel.
And just as she had convinced herself she could—
tap, tap
on the glass. She jumped in her seat. Max was standing by her door looking concerned. She opened the door and stepped out. “Sorry. Just lost in thought.”

Max frowned. “The next time you’re feeling contemplative in the car, lock the doors.” Then he reached in the back seat, grabbed both their bags, and headed toward the entrance of the motel.

Max
knew he’d been short to the point of rudeness. He hated that. But when she’d looked at him, her eyes bright with what he suspected were unshed tears, he knew she’d want time to pull herself together. Kenna was that kind of person. She wouldn’t want an unsolicited shoulder to cry on. And as much as he’d like to be that shoulder, he wanted even more to make everything better for her. And if being a little rude and giving her a few minutes to herself helped, then that was fine by him.

Once they arrived at their room, Max unlocked the door and held it open for her.
Kenna went immediately to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. After a moment, Max heard the flush of a toilet, running water, and the door opened. He hadn’t actually contemplated how intimate sharing a room with her would be. It had been a while since he’d been in close quarters with a woman he was attracted to. He liked his space. As much as he enjoyed the company of women, he enjoyed returning to his townhouse alone even more. His last serious relationship had ended over a year ago, and he had yet to drum up much enthusiasm for dating again. He’d mostly been enjoying the time alone, although he’d been out with a few women once or twice.

And now, here he was
, in a tiny motel room with one king-size bed and the very real possibility of an epic erection.  Completely uncool. Especially considering Kenna had almost been weepy a few minutes earlier. Sadly, whatever had upset her wasn’t changing a few simple facts. She had some seriously gorgeous breasts, the dip of her back right above her sweet ass was made to be touched, and he had apparently gone too long since his last lover. This was seriously uncool.

“I think we’re
okay for a few hours yet. Can you keep the door bolted and your cell close while I go for a quick run? Sitting in the car for so long has me feeling a little edgy.” All true—just not full disclosure.

“No problem. I’ll just take a quick shower while you’re out,”
Kenna replied.
Seriously, woman?
Have you no pity?
Max mentally added another fifteen minutes to his planned run.

Forty-five
minutes later, Max knocked on the door of their room. He’d cut his run short. Forty-five minutes was exactly how long it took his concern about leaving Kenna alone to overshadow his rampant lust. He’d also managed to convince himself he was no longer sixteen and could manage to keep his hard-on at bay with a little self-control. And some contemplation of upcoming work deadlines, calculating his bills for the month…anything other than naked woman, and he should be good.

What that didn’t solve, he knew, was the sleeping situation. He really didn’t need to wake up spooning, with
Kenna’s ass cradling his cock. But he also had no desire to sleep on the floor. He hadn’t missed that part of his military career. Survival training, roughing it—not really his thing these days. He liked his TempurPedic bed and Egyptian cotton sheets. He stuck one of the extra pillows in between them. He didn’t care if he looked foolish, that pillow stayed.

And h
e slept like crap.

Dammit.
Kenna had been feigning sleep, in the hope of actually
falling
asleep, for the past several hours. She was just drifting off, then her phone vibrated. She blearily grabbed it from under her pillow. Squinting at the caller ID screen, she could just barely make out that it was Jack phoning her. He must have important information to call so late.