Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series (5 page)

He didn’t let her go. 

“Caught you,” he growled in her ear.

“Let you,” she growled right back.

When Luc stalked towards them, for one crazy moment Rafer wanted to peel the lips back from his teeth in primal warning. He didn’t want Luc anywhere near his woman. Which was pure crazy, because Lark wasn’t his. She hadn’t chosen anyone.

Yet.

So he turned her around to face his unmated Pack members and asked her the question they all wanted to know the answer to. “Who do you choose? Pick one.”

“Hell, pick us all,” Dag drawled.

Pick one.

Lark leaned back, savoring the masculine heat pressed up against her. She hadn’t had a lover in years, so maybe this feverish need was her subconscious’s desperate S.O.S.  Because, God, the Breaux brothers were hot. The reality was so much better than the rumors she'd heard. These men focused on her looked
hungry
.

And Rafer Breaux had his hands on her. Finally.

“You got fantasies,
chère
.” Rafer’s words were no question.

She let her head hit his shoulder, looking up at him. “Guess you weren’t kidding.”

“I warned you. We need you,” he said, his voice low and harsh as he bent his head to her ear again. Like a lover whispering compliments, except she couldn’t imagine him doing the pretty. He was too straightforward. Too blunt. She liked that. Rafer Breaux wouldn’t lie to her.

His thumb stroked over the pulse in her wrist, and she wrapped her free hand around his. When she tugged, he didn’t let go.

Around them, the other men moved closer. Watching. “This feels good.” Rafer sounded confident. Certain. Suddenly, putting herself in his hands seemed like an excellent idea. “You wan’ to try us all?” He made the suggestion like he was holding her plate at a buffet, waiting for her to point and choose. “You can. No worries.”

She shook her head. There were some places she wasn’t going tonight, no matter how strange the bayou bred them. “I don’t know your brothers,” she protested.

Amusement colored his words. “You want introductions? You and I, we know each other.” He made that brief acquaintance of theirs sound intimate. He gestured one of the other men forward. “This here is Dag. The twins, Dre and Landry. And over there are Luc and Jackson. These are my
famille
.”

Dag wasn’t as tough and mean-looking as the man currently pinning her wrists to her side—and she hadn’t overlooked how he held her in place and showed no signs of letting go—but he was still plenty rough around the edges. His short, dark hair was cropped close to his head, drawing her attention to his bronzed skin and the hard lines of his face. He was no playful, laughing lover—and yet the hungry look in his eyes tugged at her.

“Don’ you want to play with us?” Dag pulled her hand away from Rafer, pressing his mouth against her palm. His tongue tasted her, and she felt an answering spasm deep in her womb. His eyes flared as if he knew about that secret arousal. “Lark Andrews.” He crooned her name like it was a secret code he’d just unraveled. Part of her knew she should have been concerned. She hadn’t given him her name, and yet he
knew
her.

“I don’t do this kind of thing.”

“But you could.” Rafer eyed her steadily. “If you wanted to. There’s nothin’ wrong with a little touchin’. A little pleasure. And we could give you a lot of pleasure,
chère
. Bring those fantasies of yours to life.”

She stared down at the male forearm holding her so close, impossibly tempted.

Dag smiled slowly. “We’ll make it good. We’ll be just the littlest bit naughty.”

There was no misunderstanding the sensual hunger on his face, filling his eyes—or the answering chord that hunger plucked deep inside her. She’d been so very, very lonely. Yes, she decided, relaxing her body against the man who held her.
Rafer
. He smelled delicious, so for one long moment she stretched against him.

He was hard and erect, but when she moved, he froze. As if he was afraid he’d frighten her, when all she wanted to do was reach around and wrap her fingers around him. Explore every delicious inch of him.

Rafer was a fantasy man, and damned if she didn’t deserve a taste of something sweet. It was night, she was lonely and out here in the dark of the Louisiana headlands, the bayou’s black magic surged and pulled at her. There had to be a reason—other than the blue moon—why she wanted a wolf pack and one hell of a sexual game, but right now all she wanted was sex with Rafer Breaux. Her desire was a secret, pounding heartbeat between her legs.

“Yes,” she said. The erection tucked against her ass surged, grew longer. She wriggled, testing to see what he would do. What he would let her do.

Anything, apparently, because the hands on her hips tilted her, positioned her for the hard, sure stroke parting her ass through the worn denim of her jeans.

“
Bien
,” Luc rasped. “We take her home with us.”

She didn’t protest as Rafer swung her up into his arms and carried her to the waiting boat. He was taking her somewhere she wanted to go. The Breaux brothers ran their boat up the bayou, gunning the motor over the night-black waterways in an exhilarating ride. Rafer cradled her on his lap, wrapped her tight in his arms, but that was all. He didn’t touch her further. Damn him, he made her wait, and that deliciously unfamiliar erotic tension built again, part anticipation and part fantasy.

An alligator hit the water with a gunshot-sharp splash off the starboard side, and she squirmed on his lap.

His cock pressed back at her behind the sun-faded cargo pants.

She wanted.

Wanted the man holding her to lower her to his bed, take her hard and fast. Or slow. She’d never been so aware of her own arousal. Of the heated fantasies in her head. Rafer was solid and large, the feel of him feeding the need building inside her.

Lark leaned back against Rafer’s hard chest, fighting the urge to close her eyes. Because that would be stupid. She’d stepped into the boat with him and the other Breaux brothers, and that probably used up her quotient of stupid for the night anyhow. Besides, when she closed her eyes, all she saw was their faces. Luc and Dag. Dre and Landry. Jackson. And
Rafer
. The heated glitter of desire as they moved in. Men who changed into wolves like she changed shirts. Was she really doing this?

These men were the bayou’s bad boys. Wickedly sensual and decidedly rough around the edges, they lived by their own rules. And she’d agreed to put herself in their hands?

Rafer’s arms tightened around her.

“You think too much,
chère
.”

“Thinking’s not a bad thing,” she objected.

That watchful look was back on his face. Rafer Breaux wanted something from her, something more than sex. He rubbed his cheek against her hair, and she didn’t know what to make of the simple gesture. Enjoyment? Affection? She
did
overthink things. She knew that.

“You got to let go,” he countered roughly.

She wasn’t touching that, either.

Instead, she asked the question that had her nerves dancing a tango with her stomach. “Just how deep in the bayou
do
you live?” The boat ride was taking too long, and she couldn’t begin to imagine how she would leave on her own. Maybe if Rafer kissed her, touched her, she’d forget her nerves. The heated, smoky look in her wolf’s eyes said he’d give her those touches and more right now, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask for that when his brothers were right there. Some things took working up to.

Luc glanced over his shoulder. He and Dag were riding point, crouched in the prow of the boat as they scanned the darkened stands of cypresses lining the waterway. She was certain both men were armed—and definitely dangerous.

“Deeper we go, the safer it gets,” Luc rumbled, before turning his gaze back to the passing landscape.

She didn’t want to know what men like these worried about.

“Ten minutes,” one of the twins assured her. He leaned back against the side of the boat, arms extended, fingers hitting the spray. His twin driving the boat kept a sure hand on the motor as he took them straight up the water.

“Five if I open her up.” Her driver flashed her a wicked grin. “You like speed,
sha
? That’s fine with me.”

She didn’t need to speed things up. No, she needed to slow them down.

Rafer grumbled behind her. “Dre, he always goes fast.”

Dre—that told her which twin must have been the driver—mouthed a cheerful obscenity then looked at her and bit back his next words. “Sorry,
sha
.”

She didn’t mind the good-natured cursing. Strangely, his discomfort eased her own. The Breaux brothers were nervous too. Confident and sure on the water—and undoubtedly in bed—they circled around her like they weren’t sure what would please her. Funny, but she wasn’t sure herself.

Landry looked at her and leaned in. His hand on her knee was an unexpected incursion into her space, and she jumped. Rafer stilled behind her and then relaxed, so she gave herself a moment to settle and simply feel the warm weight of that hand. Landry didn’t move any further, just left his hand right where it was.

“You know how to drive a boat?” Landry asked.

Her gaze dropped to his sun-darkened fingers and stayed there. His fingers were blunt and strong, cut up some from handling fishing lines but capable, like the man.

“Sure,” she admitted.

“So if you decide you need to leave—”
if
and not
when,
“—you can take this boat. Or, I’ll take you. All you got to do is ask, okay?”

An answering rumble came from the man holding her. “She can ask me, too.”

“Any of us,” Jackson clarified, and they all nodded, like something had been decided.

Right
.

Mama Jolie hadn’t warned her off the Breaux brothers. Rather, she’d encouraged Lark to look twice in their direction. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

Landry pulled back. An unidentifiable emotion—disappointment?—flashed in his eyes.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”

The boat slowed, and Dre carefully guided them beneath a thick carpet of Spanish moss. The waterway suddenly tightened up, and the next five minutes was a complex maze of twists and turns. No way she navigated this unfamiliar on her own.

Like he sensed her nerves—hell, he was part wolf, so for all she knew, he smelled her fear—Rafer brushed his mouth over her ear. “Any one of us will take you back,
chère
. We reach the dock and you decide this was a bad idea? You just say so. All I wan’ for you tonight is pleasure.”

“With you,” she said.”

“That would be a real good start,” he agreed.

A second chance.

Or six?

“Imagine it,
chère
,” Rafer ordered as Dre killed the motor and the boat finally slowed, his voice a harsh, animalistic growl in her ear. “One of us, two of us—all of us. Just tell us who you want.
What
you want.”

The hunting camp loomed out of the shadows, a collection of boat docks, houseboats, and cabins on crazy-ass stilts planted deep in the dark water where the bayou carved the lush swampland into a maze of rivers. Coming here was insane.

And yet she had no regrets.

“All right,” she said, taking the hand Dag shoved down at her. She let him pull her up onto the dock. “Dag. And Rafer.”

~*~

Rafer saw the savage satisfaction flood Dag’s black eyes.

After swinging himself up onto the dock, Rafer picked Lark up again, cradling her against his chest as he carried her to his houseboat. He wasn’t ready to let go of her yet, and their boat ride had been too short. When he inhaled, her flowery essence teased his senses. No other male. Just detergent and flowers. That was good. This was for her, but he didn’t know how his wolf would react if it scented a human male on her things. On
her
.

Except it didn’t matter how he felt, did it? He had too many rough edges. So, although she wouldn’t be choosing him permanently tonight, maybe she’d choose Dag. Dag deserved her.
Needed
her. Still, his own balls tightened as she pressed backwards, unconsciously rubbing her ass against him. He’d soothe her fears, ease the way for Dag to stake his claim.

Dag stepped inside the cabin behind them and closed the door.

Tonight was about choice.
Lark’s
choice. She’d choose the mate she wanted, so his job was to make sure she wanted.
A lot
. He got her real comfortable on his bed, settling her back against his chest and sliding his hands beneath her T-shirt.

She gasped, her hands covering his.

“Jus’ one touch,” he promised. “You don’ like this, and I stop.” He meant it, too.

The muscles in her neck relaxed, and she flowed into him. “Yes.” Her voice was hoarse but sure. “Okay, then.”

He slid the shirt over her head. Her bra was a wicked scrap of white cotton and lace, the cups molding her breasts. Dag moved closer, and Rafer flicked his fingers against the tiny clasp. The cotton cups parted with a whisper of sound, spilling her breasts into his brother’s waiting hands.

“You’re beautiful,” Rafer praised, losing himself in her hair. “You know how pretty you look, lettin’ him tongue those sweet nipples of yours?”

She shook her head, her eyes fluttering closed. He would have liked to watch the sensations, the awareness unfolding in her gaze, but if he was fortunate, there would be other nights to watch as she came. If Dag shared.