Last Wolf Standing (25 page)

“I’m just glad you made it back in one piece.” An impish grin lifted the corner of her mouth. “Well, mostly in one piece, anyway.”

“I need a shower,” he rasped, and then, knowing she would say no but unable to stop himself from asking because he wanted it so badly, he said, “Wanna grab one with me?”

Her eyes went wide, then dark, lips parting the barest fraction. Feeling the heavy beat of his pulse through every inch of his body, Mason waited…and waited, the seconds stretching out like an eternity as a thousand emotions flittered across her face…until she finally gave him a shy smile and said, “Okay.”

Okay. One little word that damn near took him to his knees. He blinked, acutely aware that she’d thrown him off balance again. Almost afraid that he’d jump on her like a maniac if he didn’t find some control, Mason turned and headed for the bathroom. He flicked on the light, adjusting the control until a warm wave of gold washed away the shadows—painfully aware of her body following behind him, coming closer. He indulged in a brief, carnal smile of anticipation, feeling like the Big Bad Wolf luring in Little Red.

Come closer, little girl…

“I still don’t know what Cian could have said that would have made you fight him at a time like this,” she murmured, coming up behind him as he moved to turn on the water, setting it to hot. He flinched as her delicate hands found the hem of his T-shirt, pushing the soft cotton up his back, the coolness of her hands against his hot skin making him shiver.

“Don’t you?” he asked, turning to face her as he pulled the shirt over his head, satisfaction curling heavily in his gut when her smoky gaze mapped the corded sinew of his raised arms, trailed over his chest, then snagged on the ridged muscles of his abdomen. Suddenly every single grueling hour he spent training and abusing his body seemed worth it. Just for that ravenous look on her face. She trembled, wrenching her gaze back up, until he caught her with his hot stare.

“Did it have something to do with what happened in the kitchen today? What did he mean when he insinuated I wasn’t a bonded woman?”

“Nothing.” He rolled his shoulder. “He just enjoys giving me grief.”

Mason knew she wasn’t buying it, but she thankfully didn’t press him. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked quietly, beginning to unbutton his fly. “It only has to go as far you want it to, Tor. I just want to be close to you.”

“Mason,” she breathed softly, a torrent of emotion flickering in her eyes.

“I’m not trying to put the make on you. I just…For tonight, I don’t want to worry about dreams and nightmares. I just want to be close to you. Just want to hold the heat of your body in my arms and know that you’re safe. That you’re alive.”

“Okay,” she said again, and he watched, feeling breathless, as she began to undress.

She held him spellbound as her slim fingers went to work on the button fly of her jeans. With each individual slide of button through denim, his heart kept beat with an odd, jarring cadence, until he thought the damn thing was going to pound its way out of his chest and plop embarrassingly on the floor before her, giving a whole new meaning to the idea of laying your heart at a woman’s feet.

Yeah, that’d be so smooth, Dillinger. Keep it together.

But it was impossible. He was breaking apart, breaking open. The intimate act of watching her slip her braided bracelets from her wrist, pulling off her sweater and bra, then slipping off her jeans and pale pink panties, the dark denim skimming her slender feet—they undid him. Made him ache. Made him burn. Even her toes turned him on, the cute little dimples on her ankles, the smooth, pale expanse of her calf, her thigh. He wanted to press his mouth to her everywhere. Take in every texture. Every taste.

She was everything he’d ever wanted, without even realizing it.

And she was his.

With trembling fingers and shallow breaths, Torrance bared her body before him, feeling as if she were baring her soul. She’d had plenty of time to figure out what she wanted as she’d waited for him tonight. Hours to worry about him. To let the fear that something had happened to him rip her to pieces, wondering if he’d make it back home alive.

Not knowing if she would ever see him again had cleared up her confusion with astonishing speed. The possibilities for heartbreak were huge, like a great yawning hole that stretched out across her future—yet she couldn’t keep fighting it.

If it had only been this strange, dizzying hunger crawling under her skin, then yeah—Torrance figured she could have waited. It wouldn’t have been easy, but she’d have done it. But she couldn’t lie to herself and place the blame there. No, there was something deeper than that, stronger, its power rushing through her with the brilliance of a summer storm. It had happened so quickly—and yet it had happened. That breathtaking spark of recognition. The crystallized moment in time when you realize you’re falling for another person—falling hard.

It was happening to her. Not because he was beautiful and sexy and protecting her from the bad guys. No, it was just…Mason. He wasn’t perfect, but then, she didn’t want him to be. She just wanted him. On the outside he was all power and dominance and strength, but on the inside he was hard and hurting…a little lost, lonely, yet strong and funny, both sweet and protective. He was all chaos and life, complex and mystifying, and she couldn’t resist him. He’d reached into her chest, wrapped those long, scarred fingers around her heart—and he wasn’t letting go.

Now it was up to her to reach out to him, wrap him in her arms and make things right. Taking a step forward, she lifted her hands, smoothing her palms over the rugged beauty of his chest, and with a shaky sound in his deep voice that completely undid her, he said, “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life. More than anything, Torrance.”

She stared up at him, mesmerized by the naked hunger he wasn’t trying to hide, letting her see just how badly he did want her. And suddenly a stream of words was tumbling from that hard, beautiful mouth, each one drawing her closer. “I want to swim around in your head, Tor. Know your thoughts. Know everything about you, and it scares the hell out of me, because I know I’m never going to learn enough to satisfy the craving. It’s like an addiction that’s never going to end. It just keeps getting stronger. How the hell am I going to handle that?”

The air began to steam from the heat of the shower, and she blinked against the mist as she stared up at him, wondering how any man could look so beautiful and rough at the same time. “Do you think it’s the chemistry of this mating thing that’s to blame?”

“Forget the chemistry,” he rasped. “It’s you. You’ve turned me inside out.”

“And you don’t like it?” she asked.

“I don’t like knowing that you’re thinking about bailing on me the first chance you get.”

Something like fear flashed through his eyes, jolting her. She would never have thought he would feel vulnerable. He was too strong and dominant and full of authority and confidence, the most self-possessed person she’d ever known. And yet—there was no mistaking that sharp slice of emotion she saw in the deep, molten brown of his gaze. Fear that he’d lose her, which meant he had to feel something for her, no matter how fleeting. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you know what I am,” he whispered roughly, “and sooner or later you’ll see it. I don’t think a monster’s going to fit your ideal too perfectly, do you?”

“Don’t do that, Mason,” she pleaded softly. “Don’t turn my words around on me. You know very well that when I told you about that, I was talking about a man’s heart. How he felt about me. How much I meant to him. And his acceptance of that. The fact that he wants to love me.” She shivered, pulling her lower lip through her teeth. “That he’s not afraid to admit it.”

Mason swallowed, the movement thick in his throat. “What if I can’t be that for you, Torrance?”

His expression was so tortured, that for a moment she had to close her eyes, dangerously afraid she was going to fall all over him in a sobbing mess, melting into some kind of emotional chaos. Everything had been wound so tight inside of her for so long, she was terrified of what was going to happen when it all came unraveled, spiraling out of control. And this man could definitely unravel her. In fact, he already had.

Knowing she was wearing her heart on her sleeve, Torrance lifted her lashes and reached up, cupping his cheek in the palm of her hand. “Then maybe it’s enough just knowing that I belong with you. That I’m yours, Mason.”

I’m yours.

Mason waited, his chest tight, for her to ask if he was hers…but she didn’t. His plan to keep himself locked away from her emotionally was working, but he felt no sense of victory. Instead, a sharp, uncomfortable spike of panic ripped through his gut, leaving him floundering. He’d been so sure this was what he needed, but he felt as if he’d just destroyed something infinitely precious. Like something warm and sweet and beautiful had been laid across his palm, only to have him fist his fingers and crush its tenderness, damaging it beyond repair.

Torrance would let him into her body tonight—but he wanted more. He needed more. Hungered for it, craved it, the way an addict felt starved for their next fix. He wanted to break her open, shatter her, until he could find what he needed. Wanted to peel away her own growing defenses, layer by layer, until she was naked and bare before him. Until he could see every thought and emotion, hear her secrets pouring from her lips. Until he could know her. Know everything about her.

And more than anything in the world, he wanted to hear her say that she loved him. Wanted it? Damn, he bloody craved it.

“I want to make love to you, Tor,” he whispered, the words shaky and rough as he pulled off his jeans and pulled her against his body, wrapping his arms around her, groaning from the feel of her soft skin, her beautiful breasts crushed against his chest. “Want to take you under me and show you how much I…care about you.”

A tremulous smile curved her lips, and Mason grabbed at the moment like a snapshot in his mind, never wanting to forget it. “Get close to me, Mason. Please. Just get close to me,” she said in a breathless rush, her nails biting into the slick, hard heat of his shoulders, making him growl. She drove him completely insane.

“I’ll make it so good for you,” he promised, his breath rough against her temple. “I’ll always take care of you. I swear it, Torrance.” There was so much more to say—but that was all he could give her.

They showered together in trembling haste, eager to finish and make their way to the bed, since he refused to take her against the cold tile wall. Not their first time together. Later, yes. But not tonight.

He needed to make this first time special for her.

They stood beneath the spray of the water, and Mason watched as her russet lashes beaded with glistening drops of water—and with her next blink, one droplet fell from the corner of her eye, tracing a pattern down the side of her face, before trailing over her impudent chin and settling into the sexy hollow at the base of her throat. He swallowed, wanting nothing more than to bury his mouth right there and lick the moisture from her skin. He stared, feeling lost, until the sound of her voice reached him through the thick haze of lust curling heavily around his shoulders, something weighty and real that was pressing down on him.

“What was that?” he asked, shaking his head to clear it of the hungry fog that had settled around his brain.

“I asked if it’s always like this between mates.”

“I don’t know. All I know is that I want you more than I want to breathe. More than I want to live.” He tried to be gentle as he turned off the shower and rushed her to bed, wrapping her in a warm, fluffy towel and carrying her in his arms. But it wasn’t easy. The hunger was swelling through him, grinding and urgent—the visceral need to pull her beneath him, covering her with his starved body. He wanted to give her so much pleasure. Wanted to watch her go over, her mouth open, face flushed as he thrust into her deeper…then deeper.

“I want to be so close to you,” he admitted roughly, laying her down atop the cool, crisp sheets. And it was true—both on an emotional and a physical level. There was an erotic edge to the fragile beauty of her flesh—that darker knowledge that he could so easily hurt her. That her very life had been given into his hands in this precious moment. That she’d surrendered everything to him. “Tor. I promise I’ll be careful, but I can’t wait.”

“Good, because I don’t want you to.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her body shivering with a fine tremor as he moved over her, settling between her spread thighs, her breasts soft against his chest.

Mason breathed against the small wisps of hair curling at her temple, and with eager, shaking fingers, he reached between their bodies and spread her tender flesh, fitting the wide tip of his cock against the small, swollen opening of her body. Wet, scalding heat covered him, coating him, and the pleasure rolled up from the balls of his feet, settling heavily at the base of his spine, burning around the backs of his ears. Gritting his teeth against the exquisite sensation, he flexed his muscles and pressed inside.

He kept his eyes on her face, watching the pain blend with the pleasure and anticipation as he ground his jaw and kept pressing. He didn’t stop until her flesh finally gave up its resistance and swallowed the round, bulging head, clamping down around it so perfectly that his eyes damn near rolled back in his skull. The low, shivering moan that broke past her lips made him shudder. Sweat rolled down his spine, spilling into the small of his back, and he flexed again, pushing in another inch, and the dark, dangerous ecstasy dug its claws into him.