Disgraced Cowboys (Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 3) [Siren Publishing Ménage Amour] (8 page)

She slipped her heavy purse off her shoulder, setting it on the ground as she surveyed the setup Seth had going. A camping cot sat to the rear, with a large duffle bag of clothes sitting alongside. A small amount of food provisions were stacked along one curved section of the space, and he had a canvas folding chair set up near the fire.

She gasped as she took in the evidence around her. “Oh, my God,” she said. “
This
is your place?”

His ass twitched enticingly as he strode back to his cot and yanked a gray quilt off it. “Temporary place,” he corrected, heading back her way. “Figured it might not be safe up at the cabin right now. So I brought a few things here to wait out Hurricane Kade. The water and some strategic plannin’ helps throw off my scent.”

She figured he would offer her the blanket, but he dropped it beside him and began unbuttoning his shirt. As more of his skin began peeking out, she tried to occupy herself by stretching her hands out near the fire to let the crackling heat seep into her wet, cramped fingers. The warmth was heavenly, though she shivered harder.

Still, her thoughts fell to his mention of Kade’s name. He’d fallen mute on the Kade subject as soon as she’d finished recounting his visit to her motel, which she’d given during their trek through the woods.

“What’s the deal with Kade, anyway?” she asked. “Who is he to you?”

Seth shrugged, but the motion served to slip the shirt off his shoulders. The numb hands she was rubbing together halted as she gawked at his bare chest, all gleaming and magnificent. She hadn’t really gotten a good look at it in the alley, but Lord, have mercy! How much rock-hard muscle did one man need, anyway? With that sculpted bulk, the impossible blue-gold eyes, and the golden-brown hair that fell in a thick sweep to the top of his shoulders, he had a whole god of thunder thing going on. He was impossible not to stare at. And those jeans were cut so low that she could see the teasing curve of his hip as it disappeared into the waistband. Holy mother.

He saw her gaping like a moron and shot her a quick, wry grin. A flush of heat shot to her cheeks. Well, at least she was getting warm faster.

When he kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his jeans, however, she let out a gasp. “What are you doing?” she blurted in a panic.

“We need to get our wet things off,” he said. “One of the drawbacks to bein’ a caveman.” He nodded to her jacket. “Hurry and get undressed before all that shiverin’ shakes the hair right off your head. Spread everythin’ out by the fire. It’ll dry soon enough.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not taking my clothes off in front of you!”

His laugh echoed impressively through the alcove, adding to the whole godlike image. “What do we have here? A shy stripper? You’ve taken it off in front of me before, you know.” He thrust a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out some wet dollar bills. “Here, will it help if I wave these in front of you?”

She pressed her lips in a tight line and glared at him. “Very funny.”

What wasn’t funny was when his jeans hit the dusty ground a moment later. Her eyes flew wide, and while she twisted around toward the fire quickly, the image of his muscled thighs and the impressive cock lying between them burned itself indelibly into memory. Yep, definitely the god of thunder.

“Come on,” he said, pulling the blanket around himself. “Any survival guide’ll tell you I’m right. Take your clothes off and I’ll give you the blanket. You’ll be toasty in no time.”

She heaved a sigh. “Just turn around.” She started to as well but realized she’d rather be facing him to make sure he didn’t peek.

He complied, and between her nerves, wet denim, and cramped, quivering limbs, getting her clothes off proved a much bigger challenge than normal.

“Everythin’ okay back there?” he asked over his shoulder. “Need any help?”

“Down, Thor.”

“Who?”

“Just keep your back turned.”

She finally managed to get her soaked jeans off without taking a header into the fire and quickly laid her clothes out as he’d suggested. She shook her wet hair in front of her shoulders so it covered her breasts while her hands folded over her bare snatch.

“Okay,” she said. “Give me the blanket.”

He kept his back turned and opened his arms, spreading the quilt like eagle’s wings. “Come on in, darlin’. The air’s fine.”

“What, with you?”

“Shared body heat.”

She grunted in irritation and stomped over until she was right behind him. “You’re sure taking thorough advantage of this whole mountain man survival thing.”

“In or out?”

Her shivering increased now that she was naked and farther from the fire. And, likely, because she was seriously thinking of sandwiching her bare skin against a gloriously naked man.

“Fine,” she snapped. “Don’t look.”

He kept his head turned, but the lopsided grin on his face as she slipped around the edge of the blanket was almost a deal breaker. “Stop smiling.”

His grin slid wider, and she rolled her eyes and gave in. With the open blanket blocking much of the firelight on this side, details of his incredible physique were blurred in shadow. Not that she’d looked.

Okay, she’d looked a little.

She stepped as close as she could without actually touching him, but as he folded the blanket around them, he drew her fully against his body. She stiffened, gasping loudly in panic, but then the most amazing thing happened. Seth was so incredibly, magically, wonderfully
warm
.

“Oh, God,” she said, burying her face against his chest. “You’re not cold at all.”

She slipped her arms around his waist, and he flinched at her cold fingers. “Sorry,” she said, and tried to pull them back.

“Leave ’em right there,” he said, hugging her tighter. “You’ll warm up soon.”

Her quivering turned to a full-blown tremor, and her teeth began chattering. “Then why am I shivering harder now?” she said in a funny stutter.

“Your body’s helpin’ shake off the chill.”

He shifted them so they faced the fire, and her violent shuddering quickly subsided to a faint quiver. Their bodies even broke out in sweat, so every small change in posture meant her skin slid over his with a most distracting friction. Now that she could think of something other than shaking to death, she became hyperaware of various parts of him that were pressed to parts of her. Her breasts were shoved against his chest, but not so tightly that her nipples didn’t sometimes rub along the smooth, hard flesh there. That tightened her cold-hardened nipples farther, sending a pang of interest between her legs. Maybe it would be better to focus on her hands. Her palms were safely pressed to his lower back. Quite low, in fact. Low enough for her fingertips to touch one of his narrow hips. If she let her hands fall just a little bit south, she could grab hold of the tight, round ass she’d admired in his jeans.

The thought of rubbing his bare cheeks grew almost overwhelming, and her breathing grew shallow. Time to think of somewhere else again. Maybe about the way the fronts of their thighs merged or how the pulse stirring in her pelvis was pressed so tight to his.

Damn, this was no good.

She felt it then, the restless twitch in his groin that grew stiffer and longer by the minute.

“You’re hard,” she gasped, pulling away slightly.

“Thanks. I work out.”

She reached down to smack the ass cheek she’d been obsessing over, regretting the slap when it triggered a suggestive grunt and an answering throb from his cock. “That’s not the kind of hard I meant.”

“What, this?” He pressed the accused erection against her mound for a moment, sending a sharp ripple of pleasure—and alarm—through her. “I can’t help nature, darlin’. It’s got a mind of its own. But you’ll notice that, as a gentleman, I ain’t done nothin’ about it.”

She swallowed. “Is that what you are? A gentleman?”

Their eyes met, and his were sizzling with more than just firelight. “I’m a lot of things.”

Every moment that their gazes stayed joined, the tickle of pleasure inside her stomach swirled faster and higher. She finally broke contact. “Let’s talk about something else.” Anything else, before she did something incredibly stupid. “You never answered me about Kade. Who is he to you?”

The little rumble of a sigh in his chest held a note of displeasure at the mention of Kade’s name. “He’s our alpha, or was.”

“Alpha? What’s that?”

“Wolf talk meanin’ he called the shots. One shot in particular that he’ll use an iron jaw to enforce.” He shifted his hips, and she felt his hard shaft jump up to lie pressed between their lower bellies. “Let’s talk about somethin’ else.” He lowered a hand to trace a circle over her hip. “What’s the tattoo for?”

She gritted her teeth against the pleasant tingling his touch washed over her. “I thought you weren’t looking when I got undressed.”

“I saw it at the club, when you were onstage. You weren’t hidin’ much, you know.”

“Cut that out,” she added, wriggling away from his stroking fingers.

“The tattoo looks self-done.”

“Good call.”

“What’s the spiral mean?”

“Nothing. It’s the dots making up the spiral that have meaning. Sort of.”

“And?”

She heaved a sigh. Did she really want to get into this?

“No need to get huffy,” he said in a teasing tone. “Just makin’ idle conversation. Most folks with body art are happy to yammer about it.”

“It’s not that. Oh, fine.” She pulled away from him. “The dots are notches on my bedpost.”

His expression showed confusion. “Notches?”

“You know.” She unconsciously stroked the area, aware of the faint tingling Seth’s identical motion had left behind. “A dot for every conquest.”

Now, his eyes widened. “Really? Meanin’ a dot for every fuck or every guy?”

She shrugged. “Same difference either way.”

He shook his head. “You never fuck the same guy more than once. And you mark
yourself
durin’ sex. That’s damn interestin’.”

“Not during sex. After. Moving onto other subjects, how do we give Kade’s message to Marcus? Because I’m out of ideas if
you
don’t even know where he is.”

Seth made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Best you not mention the meanin’ of your tattoo to Marcus when you find him.”

“I wasn’t planning to. It’s none of his business.”

“Oh, it’s his business, all right.”

“Why? I barely know him.”

“Because of what you told me out in the woods. Or weren’t you listenin’ when Kade warned he knows who Marcus’s mates are?”

“Yes, and you’re the one who should be worried about huddling naked under a blanket with someone else.
You’re
his mate, Seth. I know it. I could tell by the way you two look at one another.”

“Kade said
mates
, Brandi. Not mate.” His eyes seared through her, stirring an all-new shudder. “The point ain’t that I’m destined for Marcus. The point is that you are, too.”

Her mouth fell open. “Now, look. Just because I let a guy pay me for a dance in the back room doesn’t mean I plan to be his soul mate.”

“We sure didn’t see that part comin’, Marcus especially.”

She frowned. “What part?”

He leaned closer. “You turnin’ out to be a stripper. You were supposed to save yourself for us. Losin’ your virginity elsewhere wasn’t in the plan.”

He actually flinched at the bitter, indignant snort she let out. “Yeah? Trust me, the way I lost it wasn’t in
my
plan, either.”

His grin faded, but when he opened his mouth for what she knew would turn into a question she didn’t want to answer, she cut him off. “Okay, so you know I’m no virgin because of my fancy tattoo. Why was Marcus so sure I wasn’t one? Just because I make good money taking my clothes off doesn’t mean I let guys pay me for sex.”

“We both knew you weren’t no virgin the moment we got near you,” he said. “Because of your scent, darlin’. Not your occupation.”

She shot him a skeptical look. “By my scent.”

“Call it a werewolf thing.” He drew her closer again, and she shuddered at the gesture as well as the deep timbre of his voice. “As it happens, I’m not what you would call the jealous type. But the same can’t be said for many werewolves. Your, uh, status tossed Marcus clean on that hard head of his when he realized you were the one.”

Alarms were clanging loudly in her mind as she focused on his lips while he said every word. Those lips were nearer now, near enough to think of other things they were capable of doing while her body was pressed against his. His firm shaft wasn’t the only thing throbbing where their pelvises connected.

“Marcus barely even talked to me,” she said. “How could he possibly know I’m the one?”

“Werewolves don’t need to talk to a woman to know they want to claim ’em.”

She snorted. “I’ll bet.”

“All it takes is one look.” He bent his head closer, piercing her with eyes that were rapidly turning molten. “One deep, gut-churnin’ look. It sears like a brand, tellin’ us who we belong to. It’s instinct.”