Three Hours (Seven Series Book 5) (26 page)

I brushed a tangle of curls away from my face and looked vacantly off to the side.

Wheeler didn’t like that and pinched my chin, turning my head to face him. “Something wrong?”

“Do you want the truth? This is the part where you tell me I’m a swell fuck and put on your pants.”

His brows slanted in an angry line. “
What?
”

“Men have sex with me; they don’t sleep with me. There’s always a meeting, trip, or somewhere else they need to be. So they go. I don’t have any high expectations, and I don’t want you to feel guilty about putting on your pants and heading out. You don’t look like the cuddling type, and what would your family think? There’s no reason to give me that look.” I stroked the soft bristles on his chin. “I hope someday you can open up to Austin—or with your mate.”

“What mate?”

When I wriggled free, he gasped and sat up. I casually sauntered toward the short fridge. “The wolf you’ll find someday who makes your little tail wag,” I said with a grin.

Wheeler sat on the edge of the bed, wiping back his damp hair. “Maybe I’m not the mating kind.”

“Beer or water?”

“Beer.”

I pulled a longneck from the shelf and strolled back to the bed, standing in front of him and letting the chilly bottle touch his neck. “Can you open it?”

With a swift motion, he used his molars to bite on the cap, and it rolled to the floor.

“My big strong man,” I purred, playfully gripping the tangle of hair on top of his head.

He sucked down two long gulps and released an audible breath. “That hit the spot.”

I bent down and kissed the tip of his nose. “You can say that again.”

His cold tongue licked my nipple and I squealed.

“Come here.” He handed me the beer bottle and turned me around to sit on his lap.

“Hmm, I didn’t think Mr. Grumpy was the cuddling kind.” I took a baby sip and shivered when the bubbles slid down my throat. “Delish.”

Wheeler chuckled and squinted at me. “I like the way you talk.”

“I seem to recall our conversations going a completely different way.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Right there. You breathe fire like a dragon, but you’re a classy lady.”

Was he baiting me? That negative Nelly in my head began to doubt his words rang true. Classy? I rested my head on his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his arms around me.

“What’s on your mind?” He yawned as he set the bottle down.

“Misha.”

“She wasn’t in that house. My wolf can smell a cat within a five-mile radius.”

I laughed softly. “Well he must have
loved
our close encounter. Here, let me get up. I must be crushing your legs.” I bent forward and Wheeler pulled me back down.

“Stay right where you are.”

“You’ll lose circulation.”

He gave a closed-lip smile, playing with a curl of my hair. “That’d be a shame. Trapped in bed with a beautiful woman.”

I stroked his jaw. “You should trim off this stubble. I liked it better when you just had the beard around your mouth.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Jericho used to give me shit for that. Said women don’t like it.”

“Well,” I said, nipping on his earlobe, “this woman adores it.”

He leaned back onto the bed and pulled me on top of him. “Remind me to buy a razor.”

We fell into a deep kiss and then he shifted me to his right side. This was nice. I’d never been able to enjoy the feel of a man lying naked beside me without foreplay or sex. I liked his natural, musky smell. And my fingers couldn’t stop brushing over his soft chest hair—short, sparse, and pale brown. He bent his left knee and casually moved it back and forth, tucking his right arm behind his head.

“Do you smoke?” I asked.

“Nope. But after what we just did, I’d say that justifies a cigarette. You?”

“Does my kiss taste like smoke?”

“You taste like dark cherries.”

Well,
that
was one I hadn’t heard before. “Did you really like my chicken spaghetti?”

Wheeler chuckled. “Your mind is all over the place. If that’s just a sample of what you can do in the kitchen, then I might lock you in here for good. I love a woman who knows how to cook.”

“Mmmm, and I love a man with an appetite.”

Wheeler touched my eyelashes before stroking his finger over my brow. “How did you get such exotic eyes?”

His hand smoothed down my neck, across my breasts, and then between my legs. I lightly gasped—hot with desire once more. As I rolled onto my back, Wheeler’s teeth locked on my neck and lightly bit down. I moaned as his fingertips explored my sex and his heated breath skated against my skin.

A knock sounded at the door, and I stood up in a panic.

“Be chill,” Wheeler said coolly. “I locked the door.”

“Naya! It’s Lexi.”

“Not a good time, girly!”

I heard keys jingling. “Naya, I’m coming in!”

I don’t even remember Wheeler moving. One minute I heard him say, “Shit,” and the next he was running.

Running where? Oh my God!

The key slid into the lock, Wheeler slipped on the spilled soda by the door, and I reached down and whirled a sheet around me when the door opened.

“This can’t wait, Naya. I have to sort out the stuff for the party now. Austin’s giving me a hard time, and he’s stressed out over the food order. He kicked me out of bed and said if he has to work late, then so do I.” She held her laptop in one hand and glanced down at the wet floor. “What the hell happened?”

The bathroom door slowly closed behind her but didn’t shut all the way.

“And why are you standing on the bed?” Lexi began to look around and I leapt onto the floor.

“Do have a seat on the sofa. I was just settling in for the night.”

She glanced at the tipped-over coffee table.

“Sorry,” I said apologetically. “I had a little tantrum because we didn’t get Delgado. I was hoping he’d be there.”

That seemed to convince her. She set her laptop on the sofa and bent over to pick up the coffee table. I walked toward her and my eyes widened like saucers when I saw Wheeler’s knife stuck in the wall.

I reached out and pulled it free, opening the drawer beside me and setting it on top of a fashion magazine.

Lexi stood up with a button between her fingers. “What’s this?”

I glanced at the door and noticed Wheeler must have snatched up his shirt.
Goodness! Our clothes!

“It was hot in here. Do you mind grabbing the towel from the sink? I don’t want you to slip on the mess I made.”

While Lexi went to the sink and pulled open a drawer, I hurried back to the bed and stuffed the clothes and shoes in hiding places. I frantically looked around for any other signs that Wheeler was here, and then I realized his smell was all over me.
Sweet Jesus!
I rummaged through my bag and slipped into my nightie.

“Naya, this rag isn’t big enough to clean that mess. Let me grab a towel from the bathroom.”

“No! I’ll get it. Why don’t you make us a bowl of snacks while I clean up? I’m so sorry about the mess, sweetie. I’ve always been a little dramatic,” I said with an artificial smile.

I pushed through the bathroom door and felt Wheeler in front of me holding a stack of towels. A small squirt sounded in the darkness, and the sweet scent of my Chanel perfume sifted across my chest. I curved my hand around to his rear and gave it a tight squeeze before closing the door.

Lexi and I had a lot of work to do, including a few calls I had to make to complete our orders and schedule delivery.

It took three hours.

But sitting on that sofa, knowing I had Wheeler in my control—naked in that dark, tiny room—thrilled my mischievous nature immensely.

Wheeler’s feelings for Naya hadn’t changed—he still felt loathing and lust.
Lust for obvious reasons in that she was an intelligent woman who pleasured him in ways that no other woman had. Loathing because he sat in her bathroom for hours listening to them ramble on about fountains and drapery. He had begun to wonder if Naya was holding him hostage, because each time Lexi would wind down the conversation, Naya would insist they look at another page on the Internet. Whenever Lexi agreed, Naya would release a devilish laugh. The kind that made him want to bend Naya over his knee and give her a spanking.

He could have slept in that bathroom had he not been so damn scared of snoring. Jesus, Lexi would have kicked him out of the pack for sure. She would have accused him of using Naya—maybe even by force based on how the room had been left in disarray.

What he’d experienced with Naya went beyond sex. Wheeler’s compulsive actions had been out of control. When he’d ripped her blouse, he feared her reaction. He feared the magnitude of his desire for a woman whose animal represented death for him. But she’d taken hold of the reins, and that excited him. Suddenly the women in his past had become inconsequential; none of them had ever given him what he truly craved in bed. Not just sex, but acceptance. Intimacy. He’d spilled his darkest secrets to a woman who didn’t turn away. Naya didn’t look at him like she would a monster; she looked at him like she would a man.

And a monster is exactly what he saw reflecting back at him in the mirror. During his captivity, they had denied him contact with the outside world. No one had known his whereabouts, and he’d later found out Ben hadn’t even told the family he’d gone missing. Wheeler had given himself over to the underworld of cage fighting to save his brother, knowing he might never see his family again. Most fighters only lasted for so long before they lost to someone more deadly. Death was the inevitable outcome; it was just a matter of time.

Wheeler had not only survived, he’d quickly gained a reputation in the underground world of cage fights. It wasn’t long before they had put him in with the panthers. Usually panthers went against one another for the highest-paying fights, but his owner thought Wheeler had potential and had arranged for a low-key match with a weak panther.

Wheeler’s wolf had won that battle. By then his animal had become bloodthirsty—never hesitating to lunge for the jugular as soon as Wheeler shifted.

It wasn’t long before hopelessness had crept into his heart with the realization he’d never see his family again. Most of the scars on his arms had partially healed, but not enough. He’d thought he’d die in that hellhole. But sometimes guards got too comfortable and made foolish mistakes.

It took a year after his escape before Wheeler got in touch with Ben. By then, Wheeler had found one of the best tattoo artists in the city to cover up his scars, but it was also a way to separate himself from Ben for good. They were
too
identical, so maybe doing this would be a little
fuck you
to him for stealing his identity. Wheeler could have hated him, but it was impossible to hate the other half of himself.

Ben obviously hadn’t thought he’d ever see Wheeler again. For a while, Wheeler believed he might actually change his ways. He’d promised, after all.

But the promises never lasted long before the gambling would start back up. Wheeler grew facial hair, kept the top of his hair longer, and dressed differently. There was no hiding the fact they were twins, but no one would ever mistake Wheeler for Ben again. Jesus, maybe he should have just started a new life away from his brother, but Austin would be forming a pack, and Wheeler wanted to be a part of it. Hell, he
needed
it. The wolf in him craved family and a sense of belonging. In order to do that, he had to forgive Ben. No matter how fucked up his brother was in the head, they were still born of the same seed. They shared the same DNA, even the same thoughts as they could finish each other’s sentences. Maybe sometimes you just have to love someone for who they’ll never be in order to move on with your life. Ben’s popularity among their brothers eclipsed his own, and for that reason, Wheeler couldn’t betray him.

After the cage fights, the first person he’d shifted around was Ben. His wolf didn’t attack his brother like he’d feared, but Wheeler knew he needed to make sure his wolf wasn’t aggressive or else he’d never be accepted into the pack. His nerves were on edge when Austin had introduced his wolf to his brothers. Part of the process included Austin staying in human form and asserting his dominance as the alpha. Wheeler thought for sure something would spook his wolf and he’d lunge at Austin, but no such thing had happened. Maybe his wolf sensed they were family, or maybe it had to do with them also being wolves.

Wheeler made a quiet decision that he would never shift around Naya.
Ever
. That could never happen. The panther fights were some of the most vicious he’d endured, and no way in hell would he risk putting her in danger.

After Lexi left the heat house, Naya rapped her knuckles lightly on the door and announced he was free to go. When he got up and opened the bathroom door, she’d already switched out the lights and had gone to bed. The only light in the room emanated from a dim nightlight behind the sink.

He eyed the doorknob, but something compelled him to stay.

“What are you doing?” she asked sleepily.

“Scoot over. We’re cuddling.”

She giggled in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Wheeler pulled the sheet over them and pressed their bodies together. She had put on a baby-doll nightie, and he couldn’t stop touching the lacy fabric. Damn, she was such a sexual creature, and he was so uptight about sex. Not the act of it, but sexuality itself.

The tenderness.

The vulnerability.

The intimacy.

Wheeler was no stranger to strip clubs, but the performances were impersonal and didn’t have the same effect on him as when Naya jutted her hip out and played with the collar of her blouse.

Let alone curled up next to him in a fucking nightie that had him rock hard in seconds. All he wanted to do was touch the long ribbons in front, smooth his hand over the silky fabric, and play with the lacy ruffles along the hem.

He’d never felt a need to sate a woman as badly as he did with Naya. It was no longer about his needs, but hers. Had any of the men in her life cared about her wants and desires? Obviously not if they took off after sex. And when he gently slid her panties down, he made sure her needs were met. Wheeler laughed when she argued, wanting to satisfy him in return. Nope. He wasn’t having it.

After they’d fallen asleep, he awoke to the feel of her beneath the sheets, sucking on him hard.

Naya was unabashed about her sexuality, but the best part of that damn night was falling asleep behind her with his face nestled in all those beautiful curls of hair. The smell of her, the feel, and hearing the small grunts and moans as she slept. The way her cold feet would seek out his legs for warmth, her soft breath skating across his arm. She looked like an angel. He hadn’t realized how satisfying it could be just to
hold
someone.

Nor had he realized how much pleasure could be gained from waking up on his back to find her holding
him
. She had snuggled against his left side, her arm draped over his chest, leg between his as if she had claimed him.

In the quiet moments of the previous night when Naya was fast asleep and clutching him tightly, a wholly new and unexpected feeling had emerged. One that kept him up the rest of the night, watching the door. Not because he was afraid of someone discovering them, but because he needed to protect what was
his
.

Suddenly it didn’t matter anymore if he deserved her, if she wanted him, if people would cast judgment on them, if it would mean losing his pack, or if the whole goddamn world thought they were crazy. He wanted claim on Naya. Of all the fucking practical jokes for the gods to play, he’d fallen for a panther.

A wicked tongue like hers might have put off most men, but Wheeler felt like he’d finally met his equal. Beneath the layers of beauty was an intellectual woman, and that was the secret she kept from the world. She put on a good show, but maybe it’s because that’s all that men had wanted to see in her.

Not Wheeler. After spending three hours in the bathroom listening to how her mind worked, he wanted to know everything about Naya. For Christ’s sake, the woman knew who Jackson Pollock was. Most of the women he’d slept with didn’t even know who Ronald McDonald was. Sure, her coffee tasted like motor oil and she owned a cross-eyed cat, but that’s what made her endearing as hell.

He could sense morning even without sunlight and decided it was time to make an appearance in the house. Wheeler yanked on his jeans and raked his fingers through his disheveled hair, which looked like a cat had licked it out of shape. He pulled the sleeveless shirt over his head and put on his socks, but it took him a few minutes to find his boots. Naya, in a panic, had thrown one of them into a vase near the bed. He carried them down the hall and set them near the entrance to the kitchen. He figured it would look suspicious if he had them on so early in the morning, since most of the time they avoided wearing shoes in the house.

Lynn had two skillets of bacon frying on the stove.

“Morning,” he grumbled.

The early morning sunlight glittered through the windows and cast a pretty light across the floor.

“I heard about last night,” Lynn said, using a fork to flip over a piece of bacon. “I’m glad you found that poor woman. I can’t imagine what would have happened to her and that sweet little girl.”

They all knew. If they hadn’t found Skye, the pack would have taken in the child. No question.

Lynn never wandered around in a robe or nightgown like some of the other women did. She had on brown slacks and a flowery shirt that matched.

“Smells great,” he said. “I could eat a horse.”

“Afraid there are laws against horse jerky,” William said from the table, startling Wheeler. “You look mighty… refreshed.” William lifted the white coffee mug to his lips, his eyes twinkling.

“Any coffee left?” Wheeler asked.

Lynn set down her fork. “If you want some, you’ll have to make it yourself. William just finished off the pot, and I’m running late. I made an appointment to meet with a new client this morning. Oh!” She pulled open the oven and a giant pan of buttermilk biscuits appeared. Lynn set them on a cooling rack and turned off the burners.

“Here, I got it,” Wheeler said.

“The bacon—”

“I got it.”

She looked at him as if somehow he could ruin bacon by removing it from the frying pan. Lynn patted him on the back and left the room.

William’s cup tapped against the table when he set it down. “Mustn’t let the bacon burn. I like ’em crispy, not black.”

Wheeler irritably scooped the entire pan up with a spatula and dumped the strips into a bowl. He walked over and slid the greasy pile of meat in front of William. “Breakfast is served, your majesty.”

“Indeed. Next time you might let them sit on a paper towel for a minute or two.”

“The other pan is all yours.” Wheeler walked behind William and handed him the spatula before taking a seat on the bench.

William hustled to the stove and turned off the burners, giving each slice of bacon individual attention as he laid them neatly on a paper towel. “Say, Naya is a pretty good warrior, isn’t she? I’ve heard about panthers, but I always thought it was just their animal that knew how to fight.”

“She holds her own,” Wheeler replied, separating a few pieces of bacon and setting them on his green plate.

A loud snap sounded. “Christ!” William shouted. He rubbed his bare chest and moved the skillet off the hot burner before emptying out all the bacon onto a plate. “There’s always one little piggy that wants revenge.”

Most of the men dressed casual in the morning. Wheeler’s clothes wouldn’t raise any eyebrows, except for the fact he was wearing the same outfit as last night. Austin usually got all the way dressed—or at least in jeans—and it probably had more to do with upholding an image. Plus he always had manual work to do at the crack of dawn. He was probably outside right now, chopping wood or digging a moat.

William set the bacon on the table along with a carton of juice and two large bowls of biscuits. “Naya’s attractive. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Wheeler flicked his eyes up to William and shoved the rest of his bacon into his mouth. “What are you driving at?”

“Nothing. Just couldn’t help but notice how comely she is.”

Wheeler sucked the crumbs off his fingers and watched him closely. “Keep away from her.”

William quickly buried a smirk. “Naya isn’t my type. Just can’t help but admire a supremely beautiful woman is all. Don’t you think? Or… is she not your type either?”

“Why don’t you make some coffee before I shove this fork up your nose?”

“
I’ll
make the coffee,” a soft, feminine voice announced.

Naya strolled into the kitchen wearing nothing but her white nightie, and Wheeler almost catapulted out of his chair.

***

I didn’t like waking up alone, even though I’d done it a million times before. What I did like was that Wheeler had stayed with me all night. We had some sexy times, but he opened up to me in a way no other man had. Not only that, but somehow he’d managed to break down my own walls. I could be myself with Wheeler without fear of judgment or that I wasn’t enough. It was the way he smoothed his hand over my hair when I had startled myself awake with a nightmare about Misha. He listened to me talk about her without any snide remarks. When he held me in his arms, I felt relevant—like my thoughts and feelings mattered to someone.