Pursued by a Werewolf (Mystic Isle, Book 4) (6 page)

“You make a mean cup of coffee.”

“Thanks.”

He handed the mug back and draped his forearms over his knees. She took a sip, her mouth touching the mug in the exact same spot his had. A foreign feeling zinged through him.

Her brown eyes remained on the horizon and he wondered why she was sitting out here with him when she could surely be somewhere more comfortable with someone who could truly appreciate her company.

But he certainly didn’t mind the distraction.

“So this person who has you bound in knots…” she mused softly, handing the mug back.

Cal snorted and gulped down a mouthful of coffee, wishing it had something stronger in it. “What makes you think it’s a person?” he asked, trying to sound curious rather than defensive. “Maybe I’m just distressed about the amount of seaweed washing up on shore these days.”

“I’ve known you for six years Cal Demetriou. You’re easy to get along with, charming, laid back, friendly, and you make a wicked Cosmo. But you’ve never been brooding, moody or distracted. You’ve got a great job which you appear to adore and there are more smoking hot bodies on this island per square mile than any place else on earth. I can only assume your dog died or you’re having love life trouble. And since we both know you don’t have a dog…”

She trailed off and he couldn’t help but laugh. Yep. She was one smart lady. He had to get his shit together before Latham found out; who knew what the god would do if he found two of his most trusted employees fraternizing. Up to now Latham’d had a don’t ask, don’t tell policy and everyone understood that if your extracurricular activities started messing with your work you were gone. Not that Latham had ever sent anyone packing that Cal knew of.

But he sure as hell didn’t want to be the first. And he really didn’t want the god’s wrath upon him.

“It’s no big deal. I’m already over it,” he said, trying to sound like his old self.

He could feel her eyes watching him. Did she buy it? She sighed.

“Yeah, you’re also a piss poor liar.” She curved her hand over his bicep, drawing his attention. “I’m here, if you need to talk.”

With that, she stood up.

“You can finish the coffee. I’m going for a swim.” She undid the knot holding her wrap around top together and dropped it into a pile on the sand. Her bra and skirt followed a few seconds later.

Since
weres
weren’t exactly known for false modesty, he wasn’t shocked that she was stripping down in front of him. He was, however, shocked to feel blood rush to his cock. He hadn’t felt the slightest inclination toward anyone except Thane since that night. But as he took in her lush hips, round ass, and soft belly he couldn’t deny the lust blooming inside him. And those breasts…even without a full frontal, he knew they’d be spectacular.

He drew his knees in tighter, lest he give away the tent blooming at the front of his shorts, and chugged the coffee.

By the time her little pink panties hit the sand he had a full on erection. Holy guacamole. He licked his lips and tried to ease the straining hard on without showing how she affected him.

She knelt down and right before his eyes, her body contorted until soft fur covered her from head to tail. He’d never seen her in her cougar form before and instantly wanted to shift into his true form, nip the back of her neck, pin her body beneath his and fuck her until they both keeled over with exhaustion.

As if sensing his thoughts, she turned and pegged him with lovely brown eyes. Was that an invitation he saw there? Before he could figure it out, she darted into the surf.

CHAPTER SIX

The next evening during her yoga class Avery found herself staring at Hunter's delectable tush once again and it was all she could do not to reach in for a squeeze. She mentally reminded her fingers that they had half a dozen sacred memories of squeezing said tush and that would have to suffice.

But she couldn’t deny the way her mood had lifted when he’d strode into the workout room. Casual as can be, and yet he still owned the space. And everyone in it.

Including her, as much as she hated to admit it.

She’d missed him the day before. His smile. His rock hard body stretching out across a yoga mat, muscles bunching and rippling.

Oh yeah. She’d missed him.

Everything.

His smile. His smirk.

The teasing gleam in his eyes. The cocky, self-assured way he spoke to her, reminding her that she didn’t know everything about him.

Now was not the time to let her mind wander. She had twenty immortals bent into pretzel shapes and despite being healthy and beautiful, they could be a bunch of babies.

“Okay, let's come out of it slowly. Return to child pose. We'll do another easy set.
Cat, cow
. Remember to breathe in on
cow
,” she said, demonstrating. “Breathe in slowly. Exhale. Keep going.” She circled the room, giving pointers, repositioning hands and feet.

When she reached Hunter, there was laughter in his eyes. “You're good at this position if I remember correctly,” he murmured for her ears only.

“Well you have some work to do,” she said kindly. “Spread your fingers to give yourself a firmer base.”

Planting her hands on his shoulders as he did the
cow
pose, she gently adjusted his position.

Oh dear.

The feel of his muscles, so solid and warm, beneath her palms sent a surge of awareness through her nerve endings. She needed to pull back, to step away. Surely he’d be able to smell her arousal.

And that’s exactly what she was, aroused. Almost ready to beg him to have mercy on her. To take her. To let her feel him inside of her again.

She licked her lips and removed her hands. “Feel the difference?”

She expected a naughty response. Or even innuendo. But he gave a simple “Yeah.”

The studio felt extra hot today. In fact, she felt sweaty, which was impossible. She never got hot enough to sweat. But as she went through the final series of positions, she felt his gaze on her. Knew it was him because she'd never had that flushed, watched feeling with anyone else.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her form and instructions. But he was waiting for her there. Behind her eyelids, she saw his face, the sexy pout on those kissable lips. The other students disappeared and it was just her and him, alone in an empty studio. No sound but that of their ragged breathing.

She turned away from him but he was there in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, stalking her like a wolf stalks his prey. That's exactly what she was and she could see it in his eyes.

His hands closed around her thighs and skimmed upward. A trail of heat sizzled in their wake and she leaned back against his chest, unable to stop herself.

She wanted this. Him. The confident gleam in his gorgeous eyes said he knew it. They were more green than brown, the flecks of color alive with fire. From the very first, she’d been mesmerized by their color and their ability to change with the light. One glance held her immobile and bent her to his will. Oh yes, he would use that knowledge against her.

He had one hand splayed, fingers wide, across her stomach. The other hovered between her breasts with the gentlest of touches. But it was enough to make her want more.

She craned her neck to look up at him. “Hunter...” His name was both a plea and a warning.

“Shh...” He kissed the tip of her nose. “No words. Not yet.”

His lips slanted across hers, sealing tight and his strong arms pulled her back against him. Every muscle, every tendon was tight around her, behind her. She had nowhere to go, no way to escape the desire washing through her like a tsunami. And that's exactly what it was. A rising tide that she had no hope of out running.

And the sad truth was, despite all her inner monologues, her heart’s warnings, the rules she lived by…she wanted to be swept away.

As if reading her mind, or perhaps he really had put their telepathic connection to use, he growled low in his throat. He spun her to face him but didn't stop drinking from her lips. She pressed her hands against the solid wall of his chest, memorizing the feel of him. The heat.

He backed her up and her hips hit the mirror on the wall. Trailing his lips down her jaw, his hands roamed up her sides. It was useless to protest. The man kissing her neck would not be denied. Something was different about him. More primal. Far more urgent than two nights ago when he’d dropped her off at the cottage with a chaste and unfulfilling kiss.

He reminded her of the man she'd met all those nights ago. The man who'd driven her out of her mind with his touch, his wicked lips and powerful hips.

She gasped at the memory and the urgency of her own desire. Needing to be closer, to feel him against her most sacred parts, she lifted her left foot and ran it along the back of his leg.

Her movement spurred him on and he leaned closer, pressing her flush against the wall. The pane of silver coated glass was hard beneath her shoulders and the back of her head. But she didn't mind, not when he ran a palm down her thigh and hooked her leg over his hip. Then he made a little hip rotation like he was dancing the rumba and the move pressed the hard length of his cock against her.

If she hadn't already been wet for him, that move would have done the trick.

“Hunter...” She needed more. Skin against skin.

She needed him.

In a lightning fast move he both backed away from her and spun her to face the glass. She brought her hands up to brace herself and he was already there, his front pressed against her back. His cock nestled against her ass and his hands locked around her waist, just above her hip bones.

She stared at their reflection, heart hammering in her ears. He pressed his cheek against her hair and inhaled deeply. When his gaze met and held hers in the mirror, it was seductive and at the same time challenging. Was he daring her to call an end to this? To shut him down? She couldn’t, not with him locked to her, so warm and hard. Not when she wanted him so badly.

Damn, he was temptation come to life. The angle of his jaw, the brush of his hair against his forehead, the knowing tilt of his lips all combined in a sexy composition that made her melt.

“You smell so good... like honeysuckle and cherries on a warm summer afternoon.” He closed his eyes and his hands skimmed south. She trembled against him.

His fingertips dipped beneath the hem of her tank top and slid against her skin. She knew the pleasure those fingers could bring. Knew and needed to experience it again.

But he stopped short of her breasts, just beneath the curve.

No. Don't stop.

“You want me to touch you?” he whispered, his voice dark, thick, fierce. She wasn't scared. She might have hurt him in the past, shut him down, denied him what he wanted but he would never hurt her physically; she was as sure of that as she was her own name.

“Yes,” she hissed, arching into his touch.

“Why?”

The question startled her. Why? Why what? Why did she want him to touch her? What kind of question was that?

Frustration tensed her muscles.

“Admit it,
honigbienchen
. Admit that you want my touch because I can bring you pleasure.”

She loved it when he called her his little honey bee.

“Of course I admit it.”

At her words, his hands slid up and covered her breasts. She sighed with relief. Her head dropped forward and her knees gave.

“Uh uh,” he murmured against her cheek. “You're not going anywhere my beautiful little American goddess.” He wrapped one arm around her middle used the other to caress her breast.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered and his teeth grazed the shell of her ear. Her breath caught in her lungs and she stared at their reflection again. The outline of his hand beneath her shirt was plain as the sun on a cloudless day. Watching the movement while feeling it but not being able to really see it made everything more erotic.

He gently rolled her nipple between his fingers and her whole body convulsed with pleasure. A flood of moisture coated the skintight shorts and she could smell her own arousal. Surely he could smell it too. The tight buds of her nipples pressed against the clingy shirt leaving no mistake of her desire. She couldn't deny it if she wanted to.

She didn't want to.

She wanted to feel his heat. Feel his possession again. Needed to feel the hard length of him driving between her legs. Taking her to the edge of heaven and back.

His other hand dipped down between her thighs. She watched his middle finger stroke back and forth and the seam of her shorts pulled taut against her clit. She sighed again and her head dropped back against his shoulder.

For endless minutes he teased her nipple and her clit. The synchronous movements made her bones melt. Her climax built and she whimpered, needing to come so badly she ached with it. Every part of her: the arches of her feet, the small of her back, the spot between her shoulder blades, everything ached. Every ounce of her wanted to come apart in his arms, to feel that breath-stealing sensation again.

“You want to come, don't you?” he asked, rubbing his cheek against hers.

At another time the gesture would have been sweet, sappy, romantic even. But right now, the feeling of his five o'clock shadow scraping against her skin reminded her of that night when she'd felt those same whiskers tickling her thighs.

“Please...”

She wasn't above begging. Not now. Not when his fingers were still squeezing and releasing her nipple in a rhythm guaranteed to drive her wild. No. She wasn't above begging.

“You closed your eyes again,
honigbienchen
.”

When she opened her eyes he was staring back at her. The look in his  stole her breath quicker than any orgasm. The wolf lurked just below the surface, ready to take her higher than she'd ever been. Ready to accept his pleasure.

“You really think I'm going to let you come right now?” His gaze slid down the mirror, taking in her body. She felt her muscles tighten, her skin heat beneath the slow inspection. “Like this?”