Zurlo, Michele - Riley [Daughters of Circe 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (6 page)

When his breathing normalized, he helped Riley to her feet. The water had cooled significantly, but she didn’t mind. He washed her from neck to feet before tending to himself.

She emerged from the shower by herself, stepping over the rim of the tub on unsteady legs. He clamped a hand around her upper arm, the reaction so quick and accurate she gasped.

Hidden behind the curtain, he wasn’t even facing in her direction. At her gasp, he poked his head out. “Stay where you are. I’ll be finished in a minute.” He smacked a wet kiss on her cheek and disappeared back behind the curtain.

By the time he emerged, she had dried herself. He patted himself dry and rubbed the towel over his head, rustling his blond hair into ringlets. She hadn’t known his hair would curl that much when wet. It gave him a boyish charm absent when he was dry. Giving in to impulse, she reached up and wound a strand around her finger.

He used the close proximity to lean in and lick the shell of her ear. His breath panted short and hot against her ear and neck. “You keep that up, and I’m not going to be able to keep things under control. Riley, you can only push me so far.”

She studied the lock of hair wrapped around her finger and watched as it loosened and fell away. “Touching your hair turns you on?”

“Pressing your naked breasts against my chest and looking like you want to eat me up turns me on. The hair is just bait.” He grinned and nipped at her earlobe before pushing her away.

Tugging her shirt over her head obscured her view of him for a moment. The boyishness disappeared as he slid jeans up those long legs and brushed his curls away. She marveled at how much her opinion of him had changed in one night. No, she shook her head. It hadn’t changed at all. She had finally admitted that she’d been in love with him this whole time, only she had been profoundly pissed at him. That emotion hadn’t completely disappeared. She wondered if it would end up destroying the love between them.

The hairbrush lay on the counter next to the sink. She snatched it up and attacked her hair.

He shook out his folded shirt and paused, eyeing her speculatively. “Riley? What’s wrong?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he closed his hand around the fist holding the brush’s handle. “Talk to me, Riley.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his in a clear spot on the steam-covered mirror. “This isn’t going to be easy, Soren. I’m still mad at you, and I don’t know how to not be mad at you. I’ve spent so much time hating and resenting you, and now we’re sleeping together.”

The hand holding hers dropped, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. “No,” he said. “This isn’t going to be easy. I can’t even guarantee that some demon isn’t going to latch onto me and start whispering commands in my ear again. We can never have children.”

The idea of children had long ago fallen off her list of things that the future would bring, but Torrey had once told her that wolves instinctually wanted children. Perhaps Riley had begun to have hopes again. That hope deflated.

“It’s probably best we don’t have kids.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “People who don’t want kids shouldn’t have them.”

He buried his face in her neck. “Oh, honey, I want children, lots of them. I just don’t want to chance a fucking demon forcing me to…” He broke off. “I couldn’t live knowing I hurt you or them. It’s hard enough living knowing how I hurt Shaden and Torrey.”

She reached up, but her hand hovered inches from his head. She didn’t want to arouse him by touching his hair, but she did want to comfort him. At last, she settled for gripping his shoulder. “But you’re okay being with me, even though you could hurt me at any time?”

His iron arms tightened, but he didn’t squeeze harder. “I can’t hurt you, Riley. The demons wanted me to hurt you before, and I resisted them. If it came down to it, I would take my own life first.” He shook his head, brushing his face along her neck and shoulder. “I can’t stay away from you. Maybe you’re not a Daughter of Circe with all that predestination and souls mating forever crap, but it sure feels like I was meant to be with you. And now I’ve claimed you, honey. You’re mine.”

She didn’t want to pick apart the paradox in his declaration. The idea of being without him caused her chest to ache. She selected a neutral topic. “Where did you get clothes?”

He chuckled and raised his head from her shoulder. “They were where I left them. I got my truck, too, while you were sleeping.”

She followed him to the kitchen, where the odor of well-cooked bacon filled the tiny room.

Soren pulled a plate heaped with bacon and eggs from the oven. He set it on the table and motioned for Riley to sit. “I already ate.”

Her nose wrinkled in distaste despite her attempt to keep her expression neutral. “Soren, you know I’m a vegetarian.”

Parking his hands on his hips, he mirrored her expression. “Riley, you can’t be a wolf and a vegetarian. It won’t work. A wolf needs fresh meat regularly.”

She worked to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. “I don’t want to be a wolf.”

“You’ll only live a hundred years as a human, Riley. That’s unacceptable. I can’t live more than half my life without you.” His lips clamped together, all color leaving under the pressure. Then he waved his hand. “Never mind. We’ll discuss this later, when you’re more amenable to listening to common sense. You need to eat, honey.”

He turned to the stove. In no time, he’d created a vegetable-laden omelet. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she disliked eggs. At least he’d used enough cheese to cover up the taste of egg. Mostly.

* * * *

“I’m coming to work with you.”

Riley’s face tightened. Her jaw clenched and her lips thinned. Then she shook her head. “That’s not a good idea. You can stay here.”

Soren rose, grabbing the plate of bacon and eggs he’d finished despite telling her that he wasn’t hungry. His fast metabolism meant he could eat many large meals every day. He rinsed the plate and loaded it into the dishwasher. Then he grabbed Riley’s empty plate and did the same.

He’d made a mental note that she didn’t like eggs. He’d seen through her valiant effort to disguise her dislike of the omelet, but he hadn’t wanted to call attention to it. He wondered if she would eat one every morning just because he made it. She would have to learn to tolerate less from him. If his demons returned, he needed her to run to Torrey so her sister could kill them again. She couldn’t go around making allowances for things she didn’t like, but his dominant nature didn’t allow him to come right out and tell her that.

Besides, why would a woman who didn’t like eggs have an entire carton in her refrigerator? The bacon and other meat in her freezer were items he’d purchased after he’d picked up his truck and clothes. He had remembered her vegetarian status, but he hoped time had changed that particular habit.

He followed her into the basement and watched as she emptied the contents of her dryer into a laundry basket before she threw clothes from the washer into the dryer. The low ceiling meant he had to slouch. He watched her round little ass strain against her jeans as she twisted and bent. “Riley, are you seeing anyone?”

She paused mid-throw to level a disbelieving eyebrow lift at him. “You’re asking now?”

Wringing his hands was a distinctly unmanly gesture, but he felt like doing it just then. He compromised by massaging the palm of one hand with the thumb of the other. She had deflected his question instead of answering. Now the faint traces of masculine scent fluttering around the house took on new meaning.

He worked to relax his jaw so that his words didn’t come out on a growl. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. You’re mine now.”

The dryer door slammed and the clothes churned within. She hoisted the basket of unfolded clothes and headed up the stairs. At least she hadn’t challenged or negated his claim. If she did that, the claim would cease to be valid.

In the living room, she set the basket on the sofa and lifted out a sheet to fold. Soren lent her a hand. The load appeared to contain only sheets.

“I’m coming to work with you,” he said again. “I’ve followed you for several days, and now that you’ve been attacked, there’s no way I’m leaving you unprotected. Consider me your personal bodyguard.”

She looked at the sheet in his hands and then shook her head. “Soren, do you know what I do?”

An unpleasant thought occurred to him, but he refused to acknowledge it. “You’re a receptionist for a chiropractor and you do the company laundry at home. They really need to invest in a washer-dryer set.”

She gently wrestled the sheet from his hands. “I’m a massage therapist. You can’t come to work with me because you’d scare away all of my clients. Besides, people don’t want to be naked in front of their massage therapist and her boyfriend.”

The elation he felt over her label of his role in her life was overshadowed by the mention of her clients being naked. “Naked? What the hell kind of massages do you give?”

He regretted the question seconds before it left his mouth. Lifting his hands in a gesture of denial, he tried to call it back and block the blast of anger she had every right to feel. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just prefer you weren’t alone in a room with naked men.”

She snorted and finished folding the sheet. “I massage women, too. And wouldn’t you be more leery of me being the naked one in the room?” She shook out another sheet, stretching to her toes so it wouldn’t hit the ground. Elongating her body like that made her breasts press tantalizingly against her shirt. “Besides, they’re always at least half covered by a sheet.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself,” he said. The image of her leaning over him while he lay on a table, naked, covered only with one of these white sheets, caused his jeans to become uncomfortably tight. “I know you aren’t that kind of woman.”

The last sheet folded, she put the stack back into the empty basket and stepped closer. Her hand closed over his semi-hard cock, caressing him through the tough denim layer. She wore a wicked grin on her face. “Yet the idea of getting a sensual massage has you ready to spill in your pants.”

The heel of her hand pressed into him. The pressure brought heat and the edge of pain. His instinct spiked, and a low growl rumbled in his chest even though he found the sensation highly pleasurable. He caught her hand before she moved it away. “You’re not angry with me.”

She shook her head. The sunlight glinting through the front window shimmered gold from strands of her wheat hair. Sparkly things had never before held Soren in thrall, and now he couldn’t tear his gaze from the tresses spilling halfway down her back.

“I like your hair long like this. I want to make love to you outside in the moonlight, watch it reflect from your skin while I suck on that little nub between your legs until you scream my name.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and sucked on one fingertip after another. Her breathing came faster and heavier. She shifted her legs restlessly, and he smelled her arousal. With her free hand, she flicked open the top button on her shirt. He tongued her fingers while he watched the gap in her shirt grow longer.

At last, she finished. The shirt hung together, not revealing what he wanted to see. She peeled back one side. The lace of her bra hugged the curve of her breast, hiding nothing. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but she got there first. With the tip of her finger, she brushed her pebbled nipple. Her body jerked and a small moan sounded low in her throat.

He crushed her against him, ravaging her mouth with his tongue. All thoughts of being gentle or taking this slow fled from his mind. He forgot about her soreness. In seconds, he’d stripped her naked. He kissed her breasts, drawing her nipples and areolas deep into his mouth. She whimpered at the pain, but the scent of her arousal spiked. She didn’t push him away, and he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He’d never have enough of her.

She tugged at the metal button holding his jeans closed, and then she shoved the material to his thighs. Wasting no time, he lifted her, parting her legs to guide them around his waist. She settled around him as if she’d always been there. Her moist, warm pussy stretched to welcome him home. She writhed and arched, using the leverage her legs offered to thrust and rub her clit against his base.