Wild (20 page)

Meg sat in a comfortable Adirondack chair, away from the light shining through the windows. Trak took the one next to her, poured a glass of wine, and handed it to her. Then he set a small tray with squares of dark chocolate on the wide arm of his chair. “This port goes great with chocolate.”

She took a sip. She'd had a little with Manny's dessert. The wine was sweeter than she usually liked, but absolutely delicious, and Trak was right, it begged for chocolate. She took a piece of the dark chocolate and let it melt on her tongue. “This is so good.” She smiled at him. “It's very hard not to moan when you put those two together. Moaning is so terribly unladylike.”

Trak laughed. “Not always,” he said, “but you're engaged, so I'm not going to go there.”

She blushed. “I wasn't even thinking of that. I'm sorry. All the guys are with women who are here for a good time and whatever goes, and you're stuck with the almost-married one.”

“Don't be sorry. You're supposed to relax and enjoy the break, and it never hurts to get away from someone you love, even for just a short time. It reinforces the way you feel. Tells you that you're taking the right step.”

“Or the wrong one.”

There was a long, telling silence. She didn't believe she'd said that out loud. She couldn't be that stupid, could she?

“Meg? What's wrong?”

She shook her head. Obviously, she was. Why did she make such an idiotic comment? She smiled at Trak. He really was a nice man and terribly sweet and good looking. And he looked honestly concerned about her. That was special, in its own way. She wondered why he was single, why no woman had snatched him up yet.

Not her business. “Just pre-wedding jitters.” She smiled, shrugged. Tried not to look like such a loser. “I really love Zach. My fiancé. He's an amazing man.” She took another sip of her port. “So,” she said. “What are we going to do tomorrow?”

*   *   *

Lawz walked Dar back to her cabin. He wasn't sure how to explain the effect she had on him, the almost all-consuming sensation that he wanted to hang on to her, wanted to tell her his secrets and beg her to stay. But rules were rules, no matter how much he wanted to break them.

Brad had made a strange comment one time, how they were always told that the fantasy of finding your one true mate was just that—a fantasy—but he wondered if that was wrong. Brad and Cain had known almost immediately that Cherry was the one for them. He'd said it was like the proverbial lightbulb went off overhead and he knew.

Because that's sort of how Lawz was feeling about this alluring, dark-eyed, dark-skinned woman walking along the trail beside him, holding his hand, not talking about anything, but obviously appreciating the silence and sounds of the evening, maybe the possibility of what could come next.

But what might that be? He'd told her he wanted her, and he'd definitely stuck some condoms in his pocket—just in case—but what did Darian want? He wanted to know everything about her. What she did, her likes, her dislikes, what her childhood was like. How long she'd been friends with the others. He wanted to know what it was that made her so damned special, because she definitely stood out in this group of exceptional women.

Each was smart and funny and each attractive in her own way. After a summer filled with female guests, he certainly felt as if he had a better understanding of the fairer sex. They certainly weren't anything like the women his mother's age. Hell, his mom's generation didn't come into their own until they were changed. Women had so few rights when he was born, April 12, 1861—the day Fort Sumter in South Carolina fell and the War between the States began.

He and Trak had family members they never knew who died during that war, not because they fought, but because their pack alpha had decided they should live as wolves to escape the human carnage. The women, of course, weren't able to shift if they had children, since natural-born werewolves didn't start shifting until they were about thirty.

That left their women and children the most vulnerable among them. Some had been abandoned by their mates. Those bastards had been hunted down after the war, after an accounting of who among them still survived and how they'd dealt with the upheaval. There was no room for cowardice. The women who hadn't purposefully chosen this life weren't cowards. They were the tough ones, those women who stayed in human form to protect and raise their children. Those good men who stayed behind protected their families as best they could, but too many women and children died, and too many men died trying to save them.

A few joined and fought as humans, but not for the South. Werewolves never could understand the concept of slavery. Meeting Dar, one of the first African American women he'd had a chance to get to know, being attracted by her wit and intelligence as much as her beauty, Lawz couldn't understand it, either. Of course, living such an insular life, the pack had met relatively few humans of different races over the course of their years. His years he'd spent in college getting his engineering degree had been the most time he'd ever spent around humans since he was a kid.

The tiny white lights that lined the pathway sparkled with the slight movement of the trees and shrubbery. There was a gentle breeze blowing, enough to add life to the lights and give the entire trail an ethereal quality lacking during daylight. His thoughts shifted to holding Darian, to tasting her mouth again. Tasting all of her. She was so responsive. He'd never had a woman climax in his arms before, merely from touching her breasts.

She was aroused even now, the rich scent that was distinctly hers leading him as if he were on a leash. Imagining what she'd be like when he entered her had an immediate effect on his dick. Damn, he hoped he had enough condoms, because if she was serious about what she'd said earlier, that she wanted to spend some time with him in a bed when neither of them felt rushed … damn. Just. Damn.

*   *   *

Awareness pulsed through Dar's body, the sense that she and the man behind her were somehow connected on levels she couldn't truly comprehend. But the connection was there, a pulsing, living thing. The trail had narrowed, and Lawz followed close behind her, close enough that she felt the heat from his body, imagined those strong arms wrapping around her, holding her close. She really hoped he'd brought condoms with him. She had a strict rule about sex with strangers; one-night stands were never her thing. But that was so weird about Lawz—she felt as if she'd known him for years.

All during dinner, they'd laughed. He'd say something, and she'd pick up on it immediately and turn it back to him, then he'd take off on another tangent, and one of his guys or one of her girls would pop in with a smart-ass comment, and off they'd go again.

She couldn't remember laughing so hard. Or wanting so badly. She was glad she'd decided to wear jeans to dinner because the moment Lawz sat next to her, she became embarrassingly wet and so damned needy.

They rounded a bend in the trail, and there was her cabin. She'd left the porch light burning, and suddenly her hands were sweaty and she was practically shaking with either nerves or need. Probably need. When was the last time she'd had sex? Damn, she couldn't remember. Her toys kept the edge off, but she'd had a long dry spell. Even sex with the living, breathing kind had been a huge disappointment. The fact that she couldn't remember any details told her a lot—as in the fact that none of them had been memorable.

Dar went up the steps to the front deck. Lawz reached around her and opened the door. She stepped into the tiny cabin, wondering what was going to happen next. Would he pounce? Would he want to talk? What was Lawz really like when he knew he had an open invitation?

He waited at the threshold. She turned and looked at him. “Aren't you coming in?”

He shook his head. “Only if you really want me to, Darian.” He was so tall that he easily grabbed the doorframe overhead with one hand and leaned toward her. “I don't ever want you to feel as if you have to do anything you're not comfortable with. If you want to wait to get to know me better, I'm okay with that.” He laughed, and at least his voice sounded strained. “Well, sort of okay. Point being, it's your call entirely.”

She'd been wondering if he'd changed his mind. “I'm calling,” she said. She turned and walked into the cabin, slipping her cami top over her head as she went. She was bare under the shirt, and she figured he must approve when she turned around to face him, if that look of blind lust on his face meant anything.

Closing the door behind him, Lawz toed his moccasins off and walked across the small room. She backed up at the same speed, stopping when the backs of her thighs hit the bed.

He didn't grab her, didn't grope. No, he stood there for a moment just looking into her eyes and gently brushing a loose strand of hair back from her face. Then he slowly began to unbutton his shirt and pull it free from his jeans. He slid it back over his shoulders and dropped it on the floor.

Dar's mouth went dry. He was truly magnificent, his body long and lean, his muscles impressive. She reached for him. There was no way in hell she couldn't. He was just so … there were no words. Only feelings. Intense feelings, but when her palms flattened on his rounded pecs, when she stroked the taut lines of his muscular chest and then ran her hands down his sides, he tilted his head back and groaned.

Yeah. That said it for her, too.

She moved closer, lightly rubbing her taut nipples over his torso, shivering with the blatant sensuality of the move. She stroked his sides, found his waistband, and slipped her fingers beneath the button at the top of the fly. Flicked it open and then moved to the next one. She'd reached the final metal button when Lawz tipped her head up with a fingertip and laughed.

“I thought so,” he said, leaning close and kissing her quickly. “You're smiling. What are you thinking, you minx?”

“Minx?” She raised her head and her eyebrows. “Sort of a dated reference, isn't it?”

“I could call you a hussy, but that's just as dated. Hell, I'm a country boy. We don't get out much. No TV here in the back of beyond, but you're redirecting rather than answering. I'll ask again. Plain English. What are you thinking while you're unbuttoning my pants, and why are you smiling?”

She tried not to laugh. Really, but that wasn't going to happen. Once she got herself under control, she gave him a saucy grin. “Well, I'm thinking that I really want to see what's behind the wrapper, to put it bluntly.” With that, she grabbed the waistband at either side of his hips, pulled his jeans down, and kept shoving until she reached his ankles and worked them over his long, narrow feet. The soft knit boxers he had on hid very little, and now that she was on her knees, she decided she didn't want to miss the opportunity.

The glazed look in Lawson's eyes told her he liked the way she looked, kneeling in front of him in her snug jeans, body bare from the waist up. His look had her feeling sexy and powerful at the same time.

She nuzzled the erection tenting the front of his shorts. He sucked in a quick breath, and his hips jerked forward. She slid her fingers beneath the fabric and up his legs in back, cupped his muscular ass in both hands and pulled him close to her mouth. Covering him with her lips, she breathed warm air over the cotton knit, teasing him. Then she tugged the shorts down and off. His erection was impressive, jutting forward from a mass of dark, wiry hair, his thick length flushed with blood.

She actually salivated, staring at him, at the way blood pulsed beneath the skin along his shaft and the taut cowl of his foreskin caught behind the broad mushroom head. A tiny drop of pre-come at the edge of his slit drew her like a beacon.

She used her tongue—the very tip—to lick it off, tasting him for the first time, the salty-sweet taste that was like nothing she'd ever had before. His hands rested on her skull, gently holding her, not forcing her at all as she leaned close and licked the tip again, then slowly wrapped her lips around him. His groan made her smile around her mouthful. She felt it where her lips clasped his shaft, heard it like a deep vibration of need that was so powerful he ached.

How could she know this? Know how he felt, what he needed? It was like a storm brewing, this unbreakable connection she felt with a man she'd met mere hours ago. She often knew things about people—it was a running joke among her friends, Darian's super intuition. She knew right away if someone was lying, or if they were up to no good. The knowledge was just there. But this all-encompassing sense of knowing, of connecting with Lawz, was dizzying.

She drew on him, sucking him deep into her mouth, tasting the quintessential maleness of him, the flavors unique to Lawz and so pleasing to her. She couldn't take him all the way at first, but she found herself holding his buttocks, pulling him forward, relaxing her throat muscles and swallowing him deep.

His entire body trembled. It felt like he was holding back, trying not to fuck her mouth, letting her control how deep he went, how far she pulled him in, how tight he grasped her skull. It was almost sweet how gentle he was, how he cared for her comfort. So she gave him everything … and more. And when she felt his muscles go rigid, when she knew he was about to come, she didn't let him pull away but instead held him close.

This was a first. Going down on a man, letting him finish in her mouth, but with Lawson, it felt natural. Why did that knowledge confuse her even as it empowered her?

She smiled in her mind. It was crazy, but it felt right. And when he cried out her name, when she felt the powerful pulse along his shaft and she tasted his release and swallowed every drop, she was amazed at the joy she felt, the absolute sense that this man was hers, that she had claimed him with this single, simple act. On her knees, and yet stronger, more powerful than she'd ever been in her life.