Threescore & Tequila (Toil & Trouble Book 4) Page 7

  “Stephen’s making a mistake.”

  “Maybe, but isn’t that his mistake to make?” His arms snake around my middle, hard and warm, surrounding me in the smell of pine and leather.

  “Look, if he really is done with her, this won’t do anything.”

  “But if not . . . ?”

  I smile.

  Jack rolls his eyes. “Fucking hell. You’re just like your mother.”

  I gasp. “It’s not the same thing.”

  He smirks.

  I go to my toes, poking a finger into his chest. “What’s wrong with wanting everyone to be as happy as we are?”

  With a long-suffering sigh, he grabs my finger. “Not a thing. Just be careful, all right?”

  I cross my heart solemnly over my glittery pink tank. Jack’s eyes follow the movement, then darken. His rough voice gets rougher, tightening my nipples. “We never did get around to christening the bar, did we?”

  Despite the warmth of the June night sneaking in the windows, I shiver. “You have a one-track mind, Jack Frost.”

  “One of the many reasons you love me.”

  “Is that so?” I tap my chin with a finger. “You might have to jog my memory. Hard.”

  “Whatever you say, princess.”

  10

  Last December

  Jett is driving me fucking crazy.

  For every step I take forward, she forces me to take two back. Since that hard-won date—Georg about took my head off when he found out about the goddamn window—things have gone right back to square one. We’ve almost finished the back tattoo, but now she’s making excuses, trying to avoid me. I get weaker with every day that passes without seeing her. I can’t even spar with Dom anymore. He took me to the mat the other day in three moves. When we got up, the shock on his face wasn’t from pride, but concern.

  “What the hell is going on with you, Stephen?”

  I couldn’t tell him. Only Georg knows. We agreed it couldn’t get out to anyone else, no matter how loyal. It wasn’t supposed to be an issue. I wasn’t supposed to let it be an issue.

  Shit happens. Like one gorgeous little spitfire of a witch taking out your entire life plan with a look.

  After that mess with her sister and the wolves last week, I’m done being patient. I knew what she was to me the second I saw her on that pier. It’s time for her to wise up. Damn the consequences.

  When I knock on the door, it’s Carly who answers. She’s dressed like she’s on her way out, bright yellow scarf, red coat and mittens, color in her cheeks as she glances behind me, as if she’s expecting to see someone else standing there.

  “Oh! Hey, Stephen.”

  “Hey, Carly. How’s it going?”

  “Fine. Fine.” She dances back and forth, from one foot to the other. “Just been taking care of Thomas. He was in a bad way there for a while.”

  Thomas? Oh yeah, the human that was attacked when Ana was. Those wolves are becoming a menace. It must be hard being so reviled in our world, but one of these days they’re going to go too far and force someone to take them out. I just hope we don’t get pulled into that mess when it comes. “He doing better now?”

  “Yup. Finally out of the woods, I think.” Her normally bouncy voice sounds tired, strained.

  “I could’ve helped. I still could. I’m pretty good with the healing thing.” Most bruins are, but I’m one of the best.

  “Thanks. Really. But Thomas,” she gives me an apologetic smile, “he has a hard time with shifters. I’m sure you can understand.”

  Yeah, I get it. The poor guy apparently had a run-in with werewolves even before this last one. That would be enough to turn any human off shifters for life.

  “Jett around?”

  She blinks, finally taking a break from looking over my shoulder to meet my eyes. Her forehead crinkles as she studies my face. A sharp, considering look comes and goes so quickly I almost miss it. “Actually, yes. She’s seeing to Thomas so I can have a bit of a break. The guest bedroom is off the parlor, to the left.” She yanks me inside and shoves me down the hall. “I’ve got to go.” Before I can turn around, she’s gone like a shot, leaving the door wide open behind her. I shake my head—Carly’s always been a bit of an oddball, in an entirely sweet and endearing sort of way—and shut the door before looking around curiously.

  I haven’t been here since I was a kid. I only visited with Georg once or twice and that was before Jett or Ana were regular inhabitants. It looks pretty much the same. Lots of odd alcoves and weirdly shaped windows. A quirky Victorian house with even quirkier inhabitants. It smells amazing, though, and is neat as the proverbial pin, though there is stuff everywhere. Little baskets and trinkets and flowers. Lots of flowers. My nose twitches. I do like flowers. It’s a bruin thing. But we don’t put them in our house. ’Cause that’s a man thing.

  Counters and appliances gleam unnaturally as I stalk past the kitchen. I shake my head.

  It’s obvious no men have lived here. Like ever.

  I find the hallway off the parlor. It’s covered in murals that dance and shift in the shadowy light. Bruins and fairies. A nymph or two, one that flutters her lashes as I pass by, making me start. Gods, I’d forgotten about that. Carly and her enchanted paintings. It’s a little freaky. I’m so distracted, I run straight into Jett backing out of a room, holding a tray in one hand.

  She jumps as she turns, barely keeping the tray upright. A coffee cup topples off one end. I grab it before it can hit the carpet. Then I just stand there, cup in hand, staring.

  The sight of her takes the wind right out of me.

  Her dark hair is an artful pixie rumple of jagged ends and wild waves that bares the back of her neck and makes me want to sink my teeth in. She’s wearing a black skirt that’s nothing but a silky curtain of peekaboo fringe hanging to mid-thigh. Something more suited to Daytona Beach than Duluth in December. She’s barefoot, too, silver-painted toes flashing against the dark red carpet.

  A long-sleeved top in soft blue velvet is her only concession to the season. Even that dips clear to the small of her back, giving me a tantalizing flash of ink-covered skin and the dimples at the base of her spine. The soft round curves of her ass.

  Jett looks like a twenties flapper crossed with every wet dream I’ve ever had. I can’t help the strangled curse that sneaks past my lips. Or the sudden tightness in my pants.

  Her eyes are locked on my face.

  “You.”

  “Yes, me.” I set the coffee cup back, then take the tray from her limp fingers, placing it on a table next to the door. Gods, she smells even better than the rest of the house, that hint of rose and honeycomb that always makes me want to bury my nose in her hair and taste her skin. I love roses. And as for honey, well, let’s just say my mouth is watering. Less than ten seconds in her presence and I’m already feeling like a new man.

  I grin at her. She scowls back, folding her arms.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Why the hell have you been avoiding me?” I counter.

  “Maybe I’m just not that into you.” Her glare could wither a lesser man, but I’m not fooled. I can see the shadow under her eyes, the way her eyes dilate when she looks at me. Then there’s the other scent, faint under the smell of roses but growing stronger. A delicious smell that makes my heart pound and sends more blood rushing to my cock.

  “Bullshit. You’ve missed me. I can tell, remember?”

  She opens her mouth again to retort, then glances at the door she just left. Grabbing my arm, she yanks me down the hall.

  “I’ll repeat it nice and slow, since you apparently missed it the last time: You’re delusional, bruin.”

  “And you’re in denial.”

  She shakes her head, backing away, biting her lower lip, trying to hide the way she’s trembling.

  The energy between us, always so volatile, starts to catch fire. Stealing the oxygen from the air. I’m done playing around. “You’re mine, Jett, even if you don’t know i
t yet.”

  Panic flits over her face, swift as a shadow before she hides it. “Don’t say that,” she hisses at me. “I don’t belong to you. I don’t belong to anyone.”

  She’s trying to piss me off. It doesn’t work. I only laugh softly, reaching for her. My hand cups the side of her face, gently tilting it up. “Why does this scare you so damn much? I know you feel what’s between us, Jett.”

  When she nuzzles into my touch, it shocks us both. It’s only for an instant, but it’s enough to melt my heart before she spins away, her lapis eyes going wide.

  “Goddamn it,” she whispers under her breath, her back to me, fists clenched at her side.

  “I hate to say I told you so, but . . .” I lean over, my lips brushing her ear. “I told you so. Mine.”

  She turns to shove me away, backing down the sun-dappled hall. “And I’m telling you, I can take care of myself. I don’t need an owner.”

  Now I am irritated. Why must she always assume the worst?

  “I didn’t say I wanted to own you,” I bite out, stalking forward, intentionally backing her against the end of the hall, my body effectively blocking any retreat. “I said you’re mine. There’s a fucking difference. Being mine means I look out for you, sure. But it doesn’t mean I think you’re weak. It means I’m there for you—whether you like it or not. Whether you need me or not. It isn’t about taking anything away from you.”

  “Isn’t it?” she whispers, sounding so lost and unsure it breaks me a little.

  “No, Jett,” I say softly. “It’s about giving everything I am to you. Because when I say you’re mine, what it really means is, I’m yours.”

  Her mouth falls open. For a long moment, she just stares at me. The words that she finally forces out are somewhere between a whisper and a sob. “I’m not ready for this, furface.”

  “I know. But you will be.”

  Her lips press together, her eyes wild. I don’t know what I expect, but it’s not her sliding a thigh between my legs. Or her hands coming up to grab my shoulders.

  She slams me back so fast, it takes my breath away. Before I know it, she’s got me pinned against the wall with an elbow, a knee and a spell at my throat. There is a squeak from one of Carly’s murals, the eavesdropping nymph who just got smashed in the face with my ass. Jett glares. I feel the wall behind me wiggle along with a whispered squeak as the nymph moves down the hall.

  “You don’t know shit about me,” she hisses furiously. My skin is tingling where she’s got me pinned, my body stuck somewhere between amusement, frustration and desire.

  “I disagree.” Before she can guess what’s coming, I dip my head and kiss her. It isn’t a gentle or sweet kiss this time, it’s primal and harsh. I want her to feel what I’m feeling. I want to show her that she feels the same.

  Because she does. Not just because of the desire I can smell, but because of what I see in her eyes every time she looks at me.

  Her mouth is hot and sweet, the taste of her making me want more. So I take more. Her lips part and her tongue slides over mine.

  She’s panting when she finally pulls away. Both hands clinging to my chest, her face flushed, lips swollen, those blue eyes dark with need. Gods, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  Her magic retreats, releasing me. But before I can move, she does.

  “I’ll tell you what I am ready for.” She slides her hand down, cupping the bulge in my jeans. My stomach muscles tighten instantly, my whole body going still as I suck in a breath. This is the kind of attack I can’t fight.

  Her wandering fingers find my tip and squeeze, sending a shockwave of pleasure sizzling up my spine. I curse and find the strength to push her into the wall opposite. “This isn’t what I wanted for our first time.” I slap a hand against the plaster above her head, trying to control the animal that wants to leap out, the one that wants to throw her to the floor and take.

  “I know,” she whispers in my ear, yanking my zipper down to touch my cock without anything between us. “But who’s got time for rose petals anyway?”

  I groan as she strokes me, her fingers small but surprisingly soft and unbearably skillful. “You want to do this now?” I choke out, needing to be sure. One hundred fucking percent sure. “Here?”

  “Yes, big guy. Right now. Right here.”

  I let out a sound between my teeth, something guttural and defeated. I can’t resist her. I’m not even going to try. “Fine. But I want it noted that I offered.”

  She smirks as my hands find the hem of that ridiculously sexy skirt and yank it up. “I told you, I’m not really a roses and silk sheets kind of woman.”

  “Yes, you are,” I say, groaning at the feel of silky bare skin under my fingertips, the tiniest sliver of damp lace all that bars her from me. “And one day I’ll prove it to you. But for now, what the lady wants, she gets.”

  Without further hesitation I lift her up, both hands on that sweet little ass, squeezing hard as I brace her against the wall.

  She wraps her legs around my waist, arching deliberately into my half-freed dick, making me swear. “You’re gonna kill me, witch.”

  “Not before you make me come.”

  “Fuck.” Shifting my hold, I palm her ass with one hand, freeing my cock with the other. She’s squirming with impatience now, which would make me feel pretty damn smug except the smell of her desire is driving me insane. She’s slick and hot against my fingers when I manage to tug her panties aside. And then there’s no more waiting, not for either of us.

  I push inside her in one hard thrust, watching those beautiful eyes roll back in her head as all the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. Fucking heaven.

  Her nails dig into my shoulders, and she tries not to cry out as I go deeper, savoring this feeling. I’m buried inside my woman. My mate. I’ve got both hands on her hips now, her body entirely under my control. And I refuse to allow either of us to move for a long moment. My own eyes threaten to close, stars bursting behind them. But I take my time giving in to the primal urge to move, wanting to do this right—to focus on controlling myself. I’m on the razor’s edge here.

  I want this woman in a way I’ve never wanted anything in my life. At the same time, I’m afraid to let go, afraid I might hurt her. She’s tough, but she’s also fragile in a way I don’t completely understand yet. My intentions for our first time have always been to be careful, to take it slow.

  I should know Jett won’t allow that.

  “Christ,” she hisses, cracking her eyes a fraction as her heels dig into my ass impatiently. “Move, bruin. Now.”

  “Giving me orders, witchy woman?” My eyes are hooded, my voice rough. She shouldn’t push me like this, but at the same time . . .

  “You know you like it.” She leans back into my arms, forcing me to look her in the eye as my cock shifts inside her. The sensation nearly brings me to my knees. “Stop playing around. Fuck me.”

  Her words break something inside me. And I give my woman what she wants. Pulling out of that tight, heavenly heat, then driving back inside her so hard I can feel her body shake with the impact. Her muscles close around me as I take her order to move to heart.

  Faster. Harder.

  Pictures rattle up and down the hall, but neither of us gives a damn about being quiet or careful anymore.

  Jett’s practically tearing the shirt from my body. It’s like trying to hold onto a wildcat. The fringes of her skirt are slapping my thighs hard enough to sting, her nails drawing blood, but it only drives my desire higher. I’m desperate to make her come, to give us both what hovers tantalizingly out of reach. The air around us is charged with it, filled with the sounds of our bodies coming together, the smell of us filling my nose, making my bear want to roar with satisfaction.

  It’s so good I can barely breathe. Then I catch a glimpse of her face. It’s taut with passion, even tenderness, but something darker hovers beneath the surface. A wary, expectant look that makes my heart stutter in my chest. Something inside he
r is terrified of me losing control, even as she keeps pushing for it. She tries to pretend that she’s not scared of me, the bruin me, but she is.

  I could stop.

  Maybe I should stop, but instinctively, I know that’s not the answer.

  Not our answer.

  Surprise, little witch.

  I stop thrusting to kiss her again. Long and slow. Teasing her with my tongue. When I move again, my rhythm is different. Slower, but harder. Grinding circles that swirl my cock inside of her so deep my vision starts to go hazy. It’s hard to focus, especially with her sexy little whimpers teasing my ears, but I hold back, willing her to trust me, here, in this moment.

  Her eyes are wide, her lips parted as she stares up at me in shock.

  That’s it, baby. See me.

  Really see me.

  The wariness fades way, replaced by something close to wonder. I smile to myself and bring my head closer to hers, close enough that our foreheads touch, her unsteady breaths soft against my face as I tell her she’s mine again.

  This time she doesn’t argue.

  She shudders as my hips continue their rhythm. Her muscles tight and greedy, her strong thighs squeezing my hips until it almost hurts.

  So close. So damn close. But I’ll wait for her as long as it takes.

  Even if it kills me.

  “Dammit, Stephen,” she groans minutes later, twisting her head back and forth against the wall as the pleasure inside of me builds to the breaking point. “You’re going to make me scream.”

  “Then fucking scream.”

  My mouth covers hers just in time.

  Because she does scream, over and over. The fingers of one hand lacing with mine, tightening as the shock wave of her orgasm moves through us both, her muscles rolling up and down my cock. I swallow her cries as I come with her, my body slamming into hers, forcing her higher on the wall. My thighs are shaking. The hammer of my heart is so hard against my ribs I wonder if it’s hurting her, but I can’t stop myself from collapsing, my hand bracing against the wall above her head as I try to keep us both upright.