Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series (55 page)

“Jackson—” Alone with him out here, she felt vulnerable. He could do anything. His world clearly operated by a set of rules she neither understood nor wanted to know about. Where she ran a veterinary clinic and shopped at the supermart on her days off, this man
hunted
. He stood on his own two feet and fought for everything he wanted.

“You promised me two days,” he said, his words reminding her of her promise. He’d push, but he’d never force. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. Stab of desire.

“You want time?” She leaned back against the headboard, wrapping her arms around a pillow. He tugged and the sheet dropped. His gaze went right to her breasts. At some point in the night, she must have slipped off her bra, because she’d woken in just a T-shirt and panties. Already the bayou pumped sultry heat into the room, the overhead fan lazily slapping out a cooling breeze. When she drew her legs up, his eyes followed. Nope.
He
wasn’t the one in charge here. Not really.

He was coiled and tense, waiting for something from her.
Permission
, she thought.

“I want all the time you’ll give me,” he growled, watching.

Before she could overthink things, she jumped out of the bed, laughing. With a flick of her wrist, she launched a pillow at him.

“Come and get me.”

Then, not being stupid, she whirled and ran. She got four steps before he pinned her against the wall, his eyes laughing down at her.

“Never run from a wolf,
shug
. Not unless you wan’ him chasin’ you.”

He pinned her in place, his fingers threading through hers and his hips pressing into hers. His erection cradled by her hips. She wanted that thick, hot length spearing her. There was nothing pretty or civilized about how she felt, but Jackson wouldn’t mind. Thank God.

“Good.” She tipped her head back, letting her eyes slip closed. Her skin felt too hot, too sensitive, the T-shirt rubbing against her nipples.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he ordered.

The position made her intensely vulnerable, but his big hands cupped her butt, steadying her. He wouldn’t let her fall. Sweet sensation speared through her as her pussy parted, rubbing against him. His fingers curled around her cheeks, massaging deeper, so close to her rear hole, her front. Wetness drenched her.

“You’re in a rush.” He sounded satisfied.

His mouth trailed over first her cheek and then her jaw. He pressed a small kiss on her ear and then moved down her neck.

“You want me.” He said the words like he needed to hear them.

“Yeah. So
do
something about it.”

He slanted his mouth over hers, silencing her the way he did best. That was fine. She didn’t need words—she needed
doing
. He tasted like their picnic, and something wild and savage as well. His mouth devoured hers, his tongue pushing inside and kissing was almost enough.

He reached for her panties, snapping the strings on the side before she’d had time to register what he was doing. The scrap of cotton went fluttering as he speared her carefully with his fingers. One, two, the pressure exquisite as he twisted gently.

Yes.

More.
A blunt finger rimmed her butt and she stiffened. Anal sex was not something she’d ever tried. Sure, she’d wondered about the act and fantasized some, but she’d never met a man who tempted her to give it a try. Thinking about Jackson taking her there was one of the hottest, most exciting thoughts she’d ever had. As his thumb pressed inward, barely penetrating her, she could feel herself growing wetter. She’d let him. Hell, she might even beg him.

He lifted his mouth off hers. “Open up. Let me in.”

That bright spark of pleasure-pain grew where he touched her.

“Jackson—” His name was a needy whimper.

“I’m goin’ to get in here.” His finger moved. He eased his thumb deeper before pulling back. A dark burst of pleasure-pain accompanied the unexpected caress, her body stretching for him.

“I’m not sure that’s going to work well.”
For me
. He wasn’t small and she had no idea if he’d be gentle—or if she’d want him to be.

“Uh-uh. No arguin’.” He gave her a little tap on her mound and, oh God, she liked that too. The pleasure built and built and she was so close to coming. She didn’t want to argue. No, she wanted
more
.

~*~

He couldn’t wait. He had to be in her
now
.

Swinging her around, he carried her swiftly to his bed and spread her out. She’d lost her panties and he’d shoved her T-shirt up above her breasts. She wriggled as he joined her, shoving the T-shirt over her head. Yeah. Good move.

“Who’s in charge here?”

“You are,” she whimpered but, fuck, neither of them believed that. She held all the power, held him in the palm of her small, callused hand.

“Tell me what you wan’.”

Pick me. Say
me.

“Vanilla,” she said, framing his face with her hands. He turned his cheek so he can nuzzle her palm. He didn’t have the faintest fucking clue what she meant, but whatever it was, he’d do it. Surely, he could do
vanilla
?

“Can we do it vanilla? Nothing fancy,” she repeatedly hurriedly, chewing on her bottom lip. “Me on my back, you on top. I want to watch you and hold you.”

The wolf whined happily.

“Honey, you can have me however you want me.”

She lay back on the bed, all sweet and trusting. There was nothing exotic about the position, but at the same time, it was perfect. She was a woman welcoming her mate and it was better than any fantasy he’d ever dreamed up. The only thing better would be coming to her as his first. He’d done things he couldn’t take back.

He didn’t deserve her.

“Come on,” she whispered. “No holding back now, wolf boy.”

He moved over her, reaching down to part her slick folds and guide himself home. Her hands tightened on his shoulders as he pushed slowly into her body in a sweet rhythm. She surrounded him, took him, and the pleasure burned through him until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He moved harder, faster, his hips slapping against hers as he drove them both higher and higher. She followed his rhythm, holding him tight until she spiraled out of control, coming around his dick in tight little spasms.

“Eden.” All he could feel was her and he gave in to her and the pleasure, coming harder and faster than he ever had before. Afterward, he had just enough energy left to nip the soft curve where her neck and shoulder met. Not hard enough to hurt, but just enough pressure to leave his mark on her sweet skin before he tucked her up against his side and wrapped himself around her. She was
his
—and he was hers.

Chapter Eight

Given the steady in and out at the clinic, Eden hadn’t had a chance to catch her breath until after lunch. She’d de-fleaed, de-wormed, and vaccinated two puppies and a semi-feral cat before lancing an abscess. Glamorous stuff. So it wasn’t until afternoon when she finished up with a pregnant boxer that she got the chance to look out the window and discovered that Jackson hadn’t been kidding.

He’d growled a promise that he’d be watching out for her. So what? They’d been naked and wrapped around each other in his bed. That tended to color a man’s perspective. Honestly, she hadn’t been thinking straight at that point, all logical thought drained right out of her head by the downright wicked things Jackson had done to and with her.

Naturally, when he’d spoken up, her brain had ticked the
uh-huh yeah
box, along with the
things men say after really awesome sex
box. She hadn’t thought he’d meant the words—or that she’d acquired a bodyguard. He’d parked his truck outside her building, however, and he was leaning against it, scanning first the bayou and then the boxer’s owner. Darn it. If he scared off her patients, she’d have to hurt him. He hadn’t changed position since she’d hopped down out of his truck and scurried into the practice. She didn’t think the man ate or peed. Maybe it was the wolf thing.

Had she really had sex with him?

Hot, nasty,
fabulous
sex her brain reminded her, clearly on-board with her body in the demanding-an-immediate-repeat department.

“That is one fine man.” Jeannie, her assistant, leaned into her shoulder. “Or were you admiring the bayou?”

Eden snorted. “If I say
bayou
, will you believe me?”

“Nope,” the younger woman said cheerfully. “Because there’s not a woman alive who’d ignore a Breaux standing around in her parking lot.”

“I hear you there.” Shoot. The words came out more sigh than not. She had it bad.

“Is he here for you?”

Yeah.

Jeannie plowed right on ahead. “Because you’ve been smiling all morning and you’ve got this glowing thing going on. If you’re getting some of
that
—”

Jeannie gave Jackson a once-over so heated Eden was afraid she’d need to check the floor for drool. Jackson didn’t need any more encouragement. She was pretty sure all the screaming and moaning—not to mention the completely out of character begging—that she’d done last night had pumped the man’s ego to new levels. It certainly explained his possessive presence in her parking lot. She’d erased every line, every boundary she’d erected between them and he’d been happy to take over.

“Jackson Breaux is trouble,” she said firmly.

“The best kind.” Jeannie patted her on the back and grinned. “If I thought he’d be interested in me and was free, I’d be popping out there to offer him a cup of coffee. Water. Hot sex in the back of his truck.”

“And then you’d have an amazing hour, a sore butt, and memories to last a lifetime.” Some things had to be said. She turned and headed back to the counter. The boxer had been her last appointment for the day, so now she had some bookkeeping fun and the animals to take care of.

“Butt sex, huh?” Jeannie craned her neck for a last shot of Jackson. “I figured he liked it hot and nasty, but you’re exceeding my expectations.”

“I’m not talking about it.”

“You can’t
not
tell me all about it,” Jeannie complained. “I have a toddler and that means I have no sex life for the next ten years or so. I need to live vicariously through you.”

“It was a one-time thing,” she said.

Jeannie made a face. “Was he no good? Sometimes, guys like that…they’re all reputation and no dick.”

The blush on her face gave her away and a smile stretched Jeannie’s face. “Which is apparently not the case with our Jackson?”

“He’s good.”
Great.

“So what’s the problem? And why is he out there while you’re in here?”

“He’s not a keeper.”

“Uh-huh.” Jeannie shook her head. “Did he say that?”

He’d said the opposite, actually. She tried again. “Do you see him fitting in here with my clinic? Buying a house and settling down?”

“You won’t know until you try. And are those things you want right now? Some stuff comes later. Sometimes it never comes.” Jeannie shrugged. “And sometimes it all ends in spectacular flame-age. You won’t know unless you try, but if I had that man waiting for me, I’d be giving it a try. Have you asked him what he wants?”

Me.

“He’s talking long-term.”
Forever
. Yeah. Some things were too much to commit to, no matter how good the sex had been.

Jeannie whistled. “Then get him in here. Hang on to him and see where this could go. A reformed bayou bad boy is the best kind of man. He knows what he’s doing in bed, but he’s all yours.”

Eden, on the other hand, was the bayou good girl. Sure, behaving herself could be boring as hell, but she kept her head down and her head focused. She had a two-year plan, a five-year plan and—yes—a ten-year plan. In fact, she had plenty of plans, broken down into actionable steps. She dropped in her desk chair and memories promptly assailed her. Today her desk was a neatly organized set of color-coded, post-it-note-bristling stacks. There was no room in her plan for the too hot, damned fine bayou man who had shoved those lists aside and eaten her until she screamed on said desk.

Her pussy throbbed, reminding her
exactly
how talented Jackson was with his mouth and his fingers.

He wasn’t even housebroken. He padded around barefoot, and she was never purging the memories of his borrowed sweats dipping perilously low on his mighty fine hipbones. He’d put the
pack
in
six-pack
, because this man definitely packed. One good tug and his good parts had been all hers. She needed to add sex or a date with a vibrator to her to do list.

Except that neither of those things would be Jackson, darn it.

She popped the door and his head turned toward her. Of course. Mr. Big Bad Predator apparently felt the need to keep tabs on his mate. Clearly, she had plenty of housetraining to do before her wolf would be even partially civilized.

“Get your ass inside.”

~*~

Accommodating Eden was no problem at all. Hell, Jackson was happy to do it because
close
was better than
far
. It wasn’t like he enjoyed sitting outside her clinic like a dog on a leash. He was the alpha in their relationship. She didn’t get to give the orders and yet…
oui
, he had it bad. He’d come when she called and, even though she was now studiously ignoring him, he wanted to make her
see
him.

The desire he felt for her was certainly a no brainer. She looked adorably cute in pink scrubs with white and yellow kitten print. She’d pulled her hair up into a sleek ponytail that bounced around her shoulders as she moved from point A to point B with devastating practicality. She didn’t waste time, his Eden. Instead, she did what needed doing and moved on to the next task. The thin scrubs clung to her ass, though, and it would be so easy to tug them down, to get between her sweet thighs and coax her into letting him love her again.

But it wasn’t just the sex. That was the worst part of this whole mating business. She fussed over her litter of rescue kittens and he wanted
that
, the concern and affection he saw on her face as she rubbed her thumb gently over the tabby’s head. The kitten’s loud motorboat rumble of a purr filled the clinic, the sound bigger than its body.

Eden’s assistant brushed past him, wearing a similar pair of cat-print scrubs and a big grin. His eyes narrowed. What had Eden told the other woman?

“You all have a nice night now,” she announced. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Eden growled something and the other woman bounced out the door.
Interesting.
Eden had definitely been telling tales out of school.

“Hand me that bottle.” Done ignoring him, she waved a hand toward an itty-bitty bottle warming in a coffee mug of water.

He reaches for it and hands it over, making her stretch just a little until her lab coat parted around her. Her coat drove him crazy, making him want to peel back all that fabric and unwrap her. She’d let him do it once—maybe she’d let him do it again.

“Are you watching?” She didn’t look up from the kitten nursing the bottle in the palm of her hand. The little beast’s eyes were closed, its paws working tiny claws into her skin. Eden cradled her kitten like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Shit. He was jealous of a kitten.

“You bet.” The kitten in her palm shifted uneasily at the sound of his gruff voice and she frowned.

“Now you try with that one.” She pointed toward the waiting litter.

Obediently, he reached for kitten number two in the nest of towels. The kitten hissed, arching its back as its fur stood up.
Oui.
The feline knew Jackson had no business being here in Eden’s office. He felt a funny pang of something unexpected. He wanted to belong by her side and he wasn’t stupid enough to believe she’d take him just because the blue moon picked her out for him. Plus, she’d made it clear that he’d had his chance and he’d blown it.

“She don’ like me.”

Understatement
. The kitten hissed louder, doing a frantic little dance over the countertop until Eden gently dropped a towel over the small body. Immediately, the kitten stopped the whirling dervish impression and pancaked. Eden reached under the towel and retrieved the frightened animal, cupping it against her body. Golden kitten eyes regarded him smugly from against her breasts.
Oui
. The kitten had definitely won this round.

“Wolf.” She sighed, like the one word label said it all. “Is this where I ask you if you’ve always been a werewolf?” Her eyes twinkled up at him.

“The bitten versus born question?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Born,” he said. Jesus. He’d had sex before. He’d never had a relationship. He’d teased Dag mercilessly when he’d caught his brother checking out the self-help section in the bookstore. Intel, Dag had claimed. Maybe his brother had been onto something there.

The kitten slapped his hand with its paw, trying to establish its dominance. Scooping up the small body, he did a quick check. Female. It figured. It was black and white with a dot on its left cheek and a kinked up tail. Bayou inbreeding at its best.

“You feed that one.” Eden passed him a bottle.

The soft weight of the kitten settled into his palm. Shit. He was a killer and a hunter. He was no mother figure. The kitten eyed him balefully and then started sucking with one eye cracked.

“So how old are you?”

“Three hundred years old.” He gave her the truth.

“Wow.” She tucked the kitten back in with its siblings. “That’s a long time.”

She had no idea.

“What will happen to the cats?”

“Eenie, Meanie and Mo?” She grinned at him. “I’ll find them homes. Are you in the market?”

He didn’t know what the right answer was. Her clinic was peaceful with the late afternoon sun turning the place gold as the animals rustled in their cages. Nothing bad here.

“You wan’ me to have one of your cats?”

She looked wistful. “I can’t keep them all.”

Keep me
.

He opened his mouth—although,
fuck
, he had no idea what to say—but then she veered off on a tangent. “Why does finding a mate matter so much to you?”

“You don’ dream of a white dress and happily ever after?”

“Not really. I’ve got my practice.”

She sounded so damned happy about that. He wasn’t a go-to-church kind of male and he’d never thought about walking a female down the aisle. He didn’t do rings and proposals. Not because he didn’t have the cash or the words, but because that wasn’t how he worked.

He took.

He never gave.

He’d talked her into two days and, suddenly, that was nowhere near enough time to learn what made Eden happy. The clock was ticking on their relationship and she’d made it clear that sex wasn’t enough. She wanted more and he didn’t know if he had it in him to give.

He was a shit-ass bastard. That was the truth, plain and simple. With each passing month, it grew harder and harder to shift back. He and Eden had laughed that night, although now he couldn’t remember why. He didn’t laugh much now and any pleasure he found was fleeting. He’d screwed his way through the bayou, pushing himself into sweet, wet female holes for the moment of hot contact. For that brief moment of contact in which he knew he wasn’t alone. He’d envied his brothers their mates. Not nice, but he didn’t have to admit that truth aloud. Although he would have if asked. Jackson Breaux didn’t lie.