Last Wolf Standing (18 page)

“Mmm,” she purred, rubbing her skin against his, loving the contrasting textures, how hard and hot and big he was. Muscles rippled as he shifted closer, his heat pouring over her, that rich, musky scent filling her head. She gasped, the breathless cry melting into a long, husky moan as he nipped at the tender underside of her breast, his warm breath fanning her skin.

A thin, feathery sound filled her ears, and Torrance realized it was the rapid thread of her breathing, shallow and fast. Then his warm, large hand slid inside her panties, and she forgot to breathe altogether. His callus-tipped fingers dipped between her legs, finding her swollen and hot, embarrassingly wet—and a gruff, animal sound jerked from his throat.

“Th-that’s not kissing,” she gasped, shivering at the scorching, intimate touch.

“Yeah, I know,” he whispered with a ghost of a smile, his whiskey-rough voice melting her from the inside out, while the touch of his hand made her burn. “Just go with it, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you, I swear.”

“Mason,” she moaned, whimpering…writhing, undone by the wealth of need pouring through her, hot and relentless.

He cupped her sex in a warm, possessive hold while his breath rushed from his lungs, heavy and rough with lust as he nuzzled the shirt out of his way and lowered his mouth to her breast, flicking his tongue against the swollen tip, making her cry out. “I can’t get enough of you,” he growled softly, tasting her with long, slow laps and sharp, suckling pulls that arched her back like a bow.

“Mase,” she hissed, arching her back higher, pushing her nipple against the velvet roughness of his mouth, his breath warm and evocative against her tingling skin. The texture of his lips undid her, so damp and soft, when the rest of him was so brutally hard.

“Relax,” he breathed against her trembling lips as he shifted higher, nibbling at her mouth, his taste filling her with so much hunger, so much craving, Torrance didn’t know how to hold it all inside. It felt like it would shatter out of her, breaking her apart, too violent and strong to contain.

She held his stare, loving the dark, savage heat in his eyes as he urged her legs farther apart with his muscular thigh. Torrance made a choked sound in her throat as he teased the rough tip of his middle finger around the tender, slippery entrance to her body. His gaze burned into her, glittering with primitive hunger, his face flushed, lips parted, while that diabolical finger just kept stroking…and stroking. She shivered, twisting against his body, anxious for more…for everything.

One second she was writhing, and in the next, Torrance found herself stunned into a violent stillness as he buried that thick middle finger deep inside of her. She moaned a low, deep shivery sound, deliciously aware of her body clutching greedily around him.

“Damn.” He flexed his finger, and her inner muscles squeezed down on him even harder. “You’re so small. Hot and wet and tight.” A second finger pushed into her with ruthless insistence, stretching her, making her gasp, and Mason pressed his mouth to hers. “That’s it, honey. You can take them,” he growled, breathing the words against her lips. Then he pushed deeper, curling the long digits, rubbing against a dark, sweet spot inside of her that made choked sobbing sounds vibrate in her throat.

Fear and danger and nightmares were all forgotten beneath the intensity of such violent, consuming pleasure. Like an erotic master, Mason plied her body, his tongue sweeping hungrily into her mouth, thumb grinding wetly against her swollen, softly pulsing clit, thick fingers thrusting heavily into her slick heat…and she crashed over the edge. Crying out with the swift, molten rush of ecstasy erupting through her, tingling in her fingers and toes, blooming beneath her skin like tiny pinpricks—Torrance felt her world shatter apart. It went on and on, destroying her, until she finally slumped back against the bed, harsh bursts of air jerking painfully from her lungs.

She heard Mason whispering soft, husky, urgent words into her hair, but before she could answer, she drifted into sleep, wrapped in his arms…her cheek pressed to the heavy, violent pounding of his heart.

Chapter 8

“M mm. I thought I smelled coffee.”

Jeremy turned away from the bay window, where he’d been staring out at the forest, clearly lost in thought, and grinned at the sound of her voice. “You’re so easy, Torry,” he teased, those hazel eyes moving over her freshly scrubbed face in a slow, thorough look of male appreciation. “All it takes is the promise of a little caffeine, and you come running.”

“You’ve found my weakness,” she sighed, making him laugh as he moved to pour her a cup.

When she’d awakened, alone in the bed, she’d found three suitcases and four boxes full of her personal things stacked in a corner of the bedroom. Glad that her stuff had made it there so quickly, she’d pulled out a pair of faded jeans and a dark blue sweater, gotten dressed and decided to venture out of the bedroom.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen had lured her like the promise of honey to a ravenous bear.

“You take cream and sugar?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Feeling chilled, she curled her sock-covered toes against the warm tiles of the kitchen floor. “A little of both would be great, please.”

“Ya know, I’m thinking I won’t mention this caffeine addiction of yours to Mason,” he told her as he pulled the cream out of the fridge. “Not that I don’t love him like a brother, but it’ll be more fun watching him figure out his way to your heart all on his own.”

Torrance winced at the mention of the man’s heart, thankful that Jeremy’s back was to her as he moved around the kitchen. She recalled all too clearly Mason’s earlier explanation of how things would work between them. He’d made it perfectly clear that he’d share his body…and nothing more.

God, she’d been so stupid.

If she’d listened to the voice of reason whispering in her head last night, she’d have realized that with such a powerful connection between them, she wouldn’t be able to separate her emotions from the physical hunger. Having his hands and mouth on her body had only intensified her feelings—and now her lust had already evolved into something deeper.

“Is he here?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral as Jeremy handed over a heavy mug and she took a seat at the table.

“Yeah, Mason’s in his office,” he told her, while he went about putting on a fresh pot of coffee, since they’d emptied the old one, “checking to see if we’ve had any leads come in from Covington. We’ve got a whole network of informants who’re keeping an eye out for Simmons.”

She asked about the boy, and Jeremy filled her in while he finished with the coffee. “He’s been coming around slowly, so we’re keeping a close eye on him. Mason’s desperate as hell to get something out of the kid. Something that we can go on.” Taking in her troubled expression as he sat down across from her at the gleaming pine breakfast table, he sent her a gentle smile. “Not to be a jerk and stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, honey, but I can’t help but notice the look on your face every time I mention Mase’s name. Why do I get the feeling that things didn’t go all that well last night?”

“No, everything’s fine,” she started to lie, but something in his earnest expression made her say, “That is, I asked him about us being…about that whole mate thing you mentioned. And he explained how it works.” Before blowing my mind with the most breathtaking orgasm I’ve ever experienced.

“I’ll just bet he did,” the blond snorted, shaking his head. “God knows if anyone could butcher a talk like that, it’s Mason. I’m not sure I even want to know what he said.”

“He actually didn’t say much,” she admitted with a small smile, finding the laid-back Runner amazingly easy to talk to. “I think the gist of his explanation was that he intends for us to share a physical connection, but I shouldn’t go getting my hopes up that he’ll ever fall in love with me. According to Mason, he’s not wired that way.”

“Oh, shit,” he groaned, flashing her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey, but only Mason could screw that speech up so bad. I love the guy like a brother, but he can be such a bullheaded ass.”

“Why is he so dead set against caring for someone?” she asked, folding her cold hands around the sturdy mug to capture its warmth. She wanted—no, needed—to understand. Needed to understand what was going on in his head, so that maybe it could help her get a grip on her own jumbled, chaotic emotions.

Jeremy’s usually carefree grin bled into a small frown at her question, the splash of sunshine beyond the window casting his shaggy hair in a pale-golden glow, his hazel eyes turning thoughtful beneath his straight, tawny brows. “I think a lot of it comes from how we grew up. God knows it affected us all, some in the same ways, some different. I guess we all thumb our noses at the pack for their refusal to accept us for who we are, and that’s bled into how we live. We’re always on guard. Always wary. Knowing Mase the way I do, I think he’s terrified of what he could feel for you, if he gave himself the chance. And that’s before you take into account what happened to his brother.”

A cold knot of dread settled in the pit of her stomach at his words. “What happened to his brother?”

“Dean committed suicide eight years ago,” Jeremy admitted quietly, staring into his coffee.

“Wh-why?”

The Runner blew out a harsh breath, then leaned back in his chair, tipping it back so that he balanced on the rear legs, his hands folded over his hard stomach, the wounds in his throat already showing remarkable signs of healing. “Dean had been mated and married for almost three years when his wife was killed in an accident. When one half of a bonded mating pair is killed, the sudden severing of the connection can drag their mate into a living hell. Usually they simply lose the will to live and slowly fade away—but in some cases, the rage over their loss consumes them, destroying who they were. When Dean lost Lori, he found himself so filled with fury that he worried over what he might become. To keep it from happening, he took his own life.”

“He was worried that the grief could turn him, making him go rogue, wasn’t he?” she asked, her voice quiet, her head and her heart hurting for what Mason and his family must have gone through. “He didn’t want to harm anyone, and he didn’t want Mason to have to track him down and kill him.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy rasped, shaking his head. “And Mason was the one who found him. Since that day, he’s sworn that he’ll never end up like Dean did.”

“So that’s why he’s so determined to keep his emotions under lockdown,” she said shakily, thankful that Jeremy had shared the story. It made it easier to understand where Mason was coming from, though it was still hard to accept. Especially when she feared she was already falling in love with him. “No matter what, after going through something like that, he’ll keep his distance to protect himself.”

The same as she intended to do. God, they were such a pair.

“He can try, but it ain’t gonna work,” Jeremy argued with a husky chuckle. “I have a feeling that if anyone can get under Mason’s skin, it’s you, Torry. The guy can’t keep his eyes or his mind off you. You’re just going to have to trust him and give the big dolt some time to sort it all out in his head.”

“That may be easier said than done.”

His smile was crooked as he tilted his head. “But unfortunately true. You just need to be patient with the man.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see,” she said quickly, needing to change the subject before the understanding in those smoky hazel eyes broke her down. She took a slow sip of her coffee, then asked, “So how many Runners live here in the Alley?”

“Including me and Mase, we have six right now. We’re a tight group, so you’ll get to know everyone really well.”

If I’m here long enough. “You sound close, like a family.”

“Yeah, I guess we are. God knows we fight like one,” he laughed. “You’ll like the others when you meet them, but you had better watch out for Hennessey. That womanizing Irishman has worked hard to earn his sordid reputation.”

Torrance smiled off his playful warning, finding it hard to believe that all their reputations weren’t sordid when it came to the ladies. “Don’t you have any female Runners?”

“We only have one right now, but she’s down in Covington. In fact, she’s working with her partner, keeping an eye on your friends.”

“Pallaton?” she asked, remembering Mason mentioning that name during their conversation in the parking lot. Was that only yesterday? It seemed impossible, a world away, a lifetime ago.

Jeremy shook his head. “Carla Reyes. We’ve had others, but they’ve all mated and settled down.”

Torrance took another sip of her coffee, but despite the caffeine hitting her system, she had to cover her mouth when she yawned. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Coffee usually wakes me right up.”

“You’re still exhausted,” he told her, grinning. “God knows yesterday was enough to wear anyone down. Why don’t you go and grab a bit more sleep, and then I’ll throw together an early lunch.”

Since she was already yawning again, she didn’t argue. “I think that’s probably a good idea. And thanks for the talk. It’s a lot to take in, but it helps to understand.”

“I’m here whenever you need me, sweetheart,” he drawled, sending her a teasing wink as she walked out of the room. Torrance shook her head at the guy’s irreverent flirting, knowing he didn’t mean anything by it. Walking past the room she assumed was the office, she could hear Mason’s low voice, probably on a phone call, and a flurry of butterflies took flight in her belly. Oh, man. Not good. For a split second she debated knocking on the door and just getting the embarrassing “morning after” confrontation out of the way, then decided against it as she headed toward the bedroom. She needed time to think over everything Jeremy had told her; but when she walked into the room and saw the massive sleigh bed, memories from the night before poured over her in a warm, breathtaking wave.