Runt of the Litter (Halfbreed Chronicles Book 1) (6 page)

She presses forward, eager to kiss me one last time, and
though I try to hold back, I’m secretly thrilled that she seems to find it so
difficult to say goodnight to me.  When she breaks the kiss this time, I
feel her slipping her hands from my neck, down to my hands, giving them one
last squeeze, before she reluctantly separates from me, to head inside.  

I want to follow her - I want to find a way to pick her up
and taker her home with me, but I need to take a breath.  I need to figure
out what I’m doing next.  What I’m doing tomorrow.  But I wait till
the door is closed, before I finally move, and climb onto the bike.  I had
told Lou I would bring it back an hour ago, so I feel like he’s going to chew
my ass out for being late.  

But nothing, not even an angry burly man waiting for me at
home, is going to wipe the smile off my face.

Chapter.
10 – Riley

As soon as I close my front door, I hear both my Dad, and
Savannah rushing to me.  I
kinda
wish I had a
moment to decompress, lean against the door, and smile at everything that’s
happened tonight - but my Dad is standing right in front of me, and I look up
at him, daring him to say something.  He doesn’t disappoint,
“You’re not seeing him again, Riley.”

He scowls, and I chuckle,
“You can’t stop this, Daddy.”

Savannah places a careful hand on his
tricep
,
and I can see it flinching at the intrusion, but somehow he doesn’t jerk away
from her.  She glances at me for just a moment, before looking up at our
father,
“She could have done a lot
worse, Dad.”

Not a ringing endorsement for Avery, but I’ll let it slide
if it means I can crawl into bed in the next five minutes.  He grumbles
his reply,
“She could have done better.”
 Ugh, I don’t want to argue Avery’s merits - simply because sadly, I
only can speak of how he makes me feel: sexy, and important.  And how
gentle each touch has been with me so far.  It’s such an unfamiliar
feeling, that all I want to do is go to sleep, so I can hurry the morning
along, and snuggle with him in the corner booth at the diner.  But no, I
can’t speak on his merits as a person, or mate, just yet.  So I need to
just move this conversation a long, before he tries to dig any deeper
, “I’m heading to bed, I’ll see you all -”
My Dad shoots me a look, he’s pushing against my alpha-like personality, and I
feel the need to bare my neck and submit.  But then I think of what it’d
mean to let my Dad control what happens next.  He’s got werewolves coming
in sometime next week, and he’s praying that I’ll mate with one of them - he
doesn’t get, that Avery is it for me.  I know it, Avery will soon know it,
and my Dad needs to accept it.  So I try again,
“I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Savannah, who never let go of him, pulls him backwards a
little with her, and I go off to the side, hurrying myself along the dining
room, then the kitchen, then to my room down the hall.  I shut it before
either of them tries to talk to me more.  It’s quite the damper on such a
wonderful evening, but as I settle into the bed, my thoughts instantly go to
Avery: his blonde hair, his almond shaped blue eyes, his fingers on my skin,
the way he cupped my breast in that alley . . . I pull the cover up to my chin,
and rub my legs together so tightly, that I can feel the wetness between my
legs.  

I wish he
was
here.

The Next Morning

Even though it’s only eight hours later, by the time I sit
in the diner the next day, it’s all I can do but cling to the vinyl cushion
underneath me, to prevent myself from jumping into his arms, as soon as he
walks through the door.  Avery looks down to the right first, before
turning his face to the other side, and almost instantly catches me sitting in
the last possible booth, right beside the large window.  I didn’t think he
could get any cuter, but he looks more relaxed this morning.  Instead of
slacks, he’s wearing jeans.  The light blue button up is rolled up to his
arms, showing off the lean muscle coating them.  He’s wearing converse
sneakers, and his gelled blonde hair from last night, is washed and tied back
in a small bun.  Here I thought he might be a bit of a stick in the mud,
but as he walks to me, I’m starting to think he’s a closet nerd, who isn’t
bothering to hide himself anymore - at least not with me.

“Sleep well?”
My legs clench together again, wanting to get lost in that voice.  I bite
my bottom lip, and answer honestly,
“Not
at all.”  

He looks a little surprised, and smirks,
“Why not?  Your Dad didn’t keep you
all night trying to convince you not to come this morning, did he?”

I shake my head,
“No,
I - I just missed you.”  
I don’t know why I feel so equally comfortable, and vulnerable all at the same
time with him.  Just last night, I was tongue wrestling with the guy, and
this morning, with his beautiful eyes staring down at me, I want to roll myself
into a ball, and crawl into his lap.  I’m brazen, but reserved.  I’m
horny, but all I want to do is talk to him and learn everything I can.  I
don’t want small talk, I want the
nitty
gritty of who
he is as a person.  What scares him?  What makes him get up in the
morning?  Does he have any sort of faith?  Does he want a family?
 Does he want me -
longterm
?  

He glides into the seat across from me, and reaches his
hand over the table.  I instantly take it, and let out a deep relieved
sigh, when he says he missed me, too.  

We’re interrupted when a waitress comes over to take our
order, but we just ask for hot chocolate, seeing as we both kind of feel like
talking, and for now food would just get in the way.  When she taps her
pencil against the pad, I get the sense she’s grateful that she’s not being
bombarded with orders, since the day has barely begun for most people.  In
fact, most of the diner is empty, just a few stragglers coming off a night
shift, and seeking some warm food before crawling back into bed.  

I wish I
was
crawling into bed
with Avery.

Suddenly, I feel his fingers grazing over mine.  The
soft fingertips, circling my knuckles, and I look up at him, feeling the slight
flush coating my usual pale skin (well, pale for Georgia),
“Part of me wants to sit here all day, and learn every little thing
about you . . . “  

I lean in, just enough to lower my voice, in case the
waitress manages to sneak up on me while I’m distracted,
“The other part of me wants to rip your clothes off right now.”  

It’s his turn to blush, and he pulls his hands back away
from me, dropping them into his lap.  I want to argue that that’s the opposite
of what I intended, that I want us touching each other in any way I can get -
but then I realize he’s fighting the urge, too, because he’s rubbing his hands
against his knees.  As if he’s trying to distract himself.  I really
like the idea of being able to have this sort of effect on him, and I reach
under the table, to take his hands right back,
“Do you want me to?”

He nods his head a little, before finally looking back at
me,
“I’m just - I’m pretty nervous about
loosing control with you.  I’m not used to not being in control.”
 He starts looking down,
then
over,
“Well actually that’s not true.  More
like, I’m constantly trying to be in control.”  

I chuckle, and Avery doesn’t seem to be sure why, so I
explain quickly, so he’s not lingering with any self doubt,
“Hey, if you want to control anything, how
about we book ourselves a room two blocks over, and I’ll let you pick which
article of clothing I’ll remove first for you.”

I shouldn’t be so bold.  Everything that I know about
males,
is that they like to be in control, and admire
the meek little women who doesn’t seem to know left from right.  Not
everyone is like that, sure, but Avery seems so far apart from any stereotype,
that I feel utterly comfortable leading here.  Besides, something tells me
that if I let him take the lead, we’ll be moving at a snail’s pace.  And I
want to hurry up and wrap my legs around his waist pronto.  

He hasn’t said anything, but I catch the twitch in his
jawline
.  
The one where he bites the
inside of his cheek, in order to stop himself from saying anything.
 But his racing heart is giving it away.  The way his cheeks blush,
the way his breath seems to quicken.  He wants to.

“Here
ya
go.  Y’all enjoy it - stay warm,”
the waitress
puts the two cups between us, seemingly unaware of how close we were to leaving
and heading out.  I practically want to curse under my breath, because I’m
certain I was about to have the man actually agree to a hotel room any moment
now.  She whips out the check, and leaves as quickly as she came.  

Avery and I just look at each other.  Then laugh.

“Or maybe we can
just drink out hot chocolate for now
?,
”
he says it
so affirmatively, that I barely catch the question in the tone.  He’d like
to just sit here with me for now, and if that’s what he truly wants, then I’ll
stay put.  But before this day is over, I’m pinning this man underneath
me.  

Chapter.
11 – Avery

I keep telling myself that this is the right way to go
about things.  Talk to one another first, and focus on the details, and
then fuck like bunny rabbits in heat.   I wonder what position we’d
try first.  Would I be able to suck on those perfect tits a little, while
my cock disappears inside of her?  It’s the same damn thoughts that kept
me awake all night - imagining her moaning my name, underneath me.  I woke
up practically humping my bed, but even though it should have been easy just to
rub it out before heading to the diner; I instead, somehow, felt guilty about
it.  Actually guilty to use my hand for some relief, when I guess my body
has decided that only she should be able to give me that from now on.  

I hope she’s okay with me deciding that she’s the only
relief I’ll ever have again, because otherwise I’m going to have a serious case
of blue balls.

When she suggested she’d take off any clothes I’d tell her
in a hotel room, it took everything in me not to carry her over my shoulder,
down the street, grunting at anybody who would inquire just what the hell was
going on.

But now we’re sipping on hot chocolate, and I’m praying that
this hard on I can’t seem to get down, will ease up enough so I can at least
pay attention to what she’s saying.  I must not be doing a good enough job
though, because she catches me staring at her chest, and presses them against
the table, so they threaten to spill out over the top of her shirt.  My
mouth instantly salivates, and all I want to do is slip my tongue across the
pink buds underneath the fabric.

My eyes shoot up to hers, and she looks as equally flushed
as I am.  I must look like a hound dog, ready to carry her off at any
moment, but she doesn’t back away from me, so the least I can do is be honest
with her,
“Should I be frank?”

She smiles, and nods her head,
“Please do.”

“I actually had
every intention of just sitting here with you - spend the day getting to know
you better, figure out what the heck is going on between us.  But now, all
I can think about is your offer, and I don’t know if I’ll make for a good
conversationalist anymore.”  
She must have misunderstood, and think
I’m leaving, because she instantly reaches out for me, and wraps her hands
around my wrists.  A human set of handcuffs,
that warm
me up instantly.  

She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me,
then
bites her bottom lip.  

I want to bite that lip, too - though I don’t know where
that idea came from . . .
“Riley, I’m
not going anywhere.  I wasn’t trying to bail.  I’m saying, that I - “

I don’t know how to be forward, or suave, or even say it
out loud.  Part of me is embarrassed, and even shy to admit how much I
want this, too.  But as her grip tightens around me a little, I finally
look back at her,
“I’d like to take you
up on that offer.”
 And just in case I come across as a total
perv
, I quickly add the excuse,
“In order to think straight again.”

She grins from ear to ear, showing off those pearly whites
of hers,
“I want that, too.”

I think she’s scared I’ll change my mind, because she’s
practically dragging me out the booth.  I reach into my right pocket, grab
some change, and drop it for the hot chocolate, before she’s practically
yanking me out of the diner.  

I’ve never needed a hotel room before, so I have no idea
where we’re going.  Luckily, Lou wasn’t around last night to tear into me
much, and since he had his own late night, he didn’t seem to mind me taking the
bike out again this morning (since he wasn’t awake, for me to ask).  We
take the bike, instead of walking, but it’s only two blocks away and we’re
there within minutes.  I’m so nervous, that it gives me just enough time
to convince myself this is too fast, that maybe I’m pushing her into this a
little.  

Then she grabs me off the bike, and drags me behind her,
and I realize that maybe she’s the one pushing here.  

She strides into the office, but I stumble in behind her,
not sure if it’s obvious that something’s going on, and blushing at the thought
that the manager will instantly read it on me.  I’m just about to step
forward, through the awkwardness, so I could at least pay - but I’m almost
floored when the stranger behind the desk looks up, and
seems
to recognize Riley.  After a quick welcome, and asking how each other’s
families are, the man downright shocks me, when he casually asks her if she
wants our room on the tab.

Wait, what?  What tab?  She has an account with
the hotel?  How many times does she come here, and with who
?!
 I can’t get my hand away from hers fast enough, and
she spins around quickly, in a rush to explain before I bolt.  It’s not
that I object to a woman who knows what she wants, and is comfortable with her
sexual identity.  It’s just that here I am worried she’s going to use me,
dump me, and leave my heart shattered in pieces.  Hearing she might just
bring guys here often enough, that she has a tab, makes me nervous as Hell that
my fears might just be right.

“Avery, wait - it’s
okay, I can explain.”

I don’t give anything away with my face.  It’s
practically stone cold.  I don’t object to her talking more, but I’m not
encouraging it either.  My back is close to the door, and if she’s not
able to explain it quickly enough, I’m ready to leave . . .
“My Dad is hosting some families coming in
for the festival.”  
She raises her eyebrows, as if I’m somehow
supposed to understand her silent physical hint, but then it dawns on me -
werewolves.  Her Dad is hosting werewolves, and opened a tab for the block
of rooms.

I feel bad, but Riley doesn’t seem phased.  Without
looking back at the manager, she steps closer to
me,
all the while talking to the guy behind her,
“Open up my own tab, please.  I’ll pay when we’re done.”  
I
don’t know if I can really stand to see the expression on the guy’s face, since
just about anybody would gather what Riley’s hoping for here.  I never
thought I’d be such a prude, but the thought of anybody else knowing what we
might be doing, makes the rock hard erection I had practically
wilter
.

My raven doesn’t seem phased, leading me to the right, and
then down a hallway.  Before settling on a door close to the end.
 With a quick flick of the wrist, the door swings open, and she steps
aside to let me in.  If there
was
any moment for
me to turn back, it’d be now.  But as embarrassed as I am, those lingering
thoughts of what she might do to me in that room, push me forward.  I
don’t even flinch when the door swings shut with a slam, and latches its lock.  

She’s got me to herself for who knows how long, and when I
finally get brave enough to look back at her, she’s smirking and licks her
lips.