Lion's Share
Page 32
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“You’ve known me all my life,” I pointed out.
Jace rolled his eyes. “When we met, I was a nine-year-old and you were a squalling infant.” He held me at arm’s length and gave me a lingering once-over. “Things have changed.”
“And when, exactly, did you realize that?”
“In October, when I showed up at that cabin to rescue you and you’d already killed all the bad guys. And looked great doing it. I’ve spent the two months since then trying to convince myself that I don’t want you, or that I can’t have you, or that you’re still just a kid. By the way, short skirts and late-night kisses very nearly blew all those arguments out of the water.”
“Very nearly?”
“I was trying to be a responsible Alpha.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m off the clock.” He lifted me again, and that time, my legs encircled him on their own.
“Alphas are never off the clock,” I said as his mouth trailed down my neck, and each breath I took seemed to stoke the flames kindling deep inside me.
That was what had been missing with Brian. That spark. The visceral certainty that nothing in the world was more important than touching and being touched.
“Then I’m on call,” Jace murmured against my skin. “They know how to reach me.” He kicked the bedroom door shut, then kissed me again as he carried me across the room, my legs still wrapped around his waist. In the middle of the floor, he looked up to scan the room, and I realized, at the same time he seemed to, that other than the desk chairs, there was nowhere to sit except for the beds.
I tensed in his arms before he could sink onto the edge of the nearest mattress, with me on his lap. “That’s my brother’s bed. They both are.”
He made a face. “Yeah, that’d be weird. Living room?”
“Yes.”
He set me down and tugged me by one hand to the front of the cabin, where he bolted the front door while I closed the blinds, praying no one was peeking through the rear windows of the lodge at that moment. Once everyone else found out about us, the opportunity for privacy would expire.
Butterflies danced in my stomach, and I had a tight, tingly feeling deep in my chest. Making out with Jace was one thing. One mind-numbing, body-quivering, forbidden-fantasy-come-true kind of thing. But keeping that a secret pushed our tryst into the realm of scandal.
No one would ever have thought damaged little Abby Wade capable of such shocking behavior with the country’s only single—and notoriously philandering—Alpha, and that fact heightened my excitement until I could hardly breathe. I felt like someone else. Someone powerful, and beautiful, and in control of her own life.
Someone that a man like Jace Hammond would want.
“So, were you just going to let me marry Brian without saying anything?” I asked, as we settled onto a couch I’d sat on dozens of times in my three and a half years in his Pride.
“I wasn’t going to be what came between the two of you.” He bent for another taste of my neck. “Not on purpose, anyway…”
His kisses burned across my skin, and my heartbeat set the tempo. Every touch sent tendrils of warmth to pool in sensitive places, but the best part was the satisfaction of long-held curiosity. After years of wondering what it would feel like to be touched, to be kissed, to be savored with a patient but eager passion, I was at last living in that moment.
And finally, I dared a bold touch of my own.
Jace made another guttural sound when my hand trailed from his hair down his neck, then over his chest, slowly. Feeling every flat plane and hard ridge. He was made of muscles, each one tense with anticipation, as if he craved contact, but was determined to let me forge my own path. I closed my eyes and let my hands wander while his mouth explored every inch of my neck and shoulders, pushing just past the neckline of my shirt to lick or nibble a neglected surface.
His tongue felt amazing, but the landscape my hands had discovered was equally compelling—Jace’s arms were bulge upon bulge of restrained power. I slid the cotton of his sleeves over each ridge as they bunched and stretched beneath my touch. Then, suddenly, I was sick of his shirt.
“Jace.”
“Mmmm?” he murmured against my collarbone, his breath cooling the warmth his tongue had just left there.
“Can I…” I tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he sat up to look at me.
“You can do anything you want.”
Anticipation buzzed beneath my skin as I slid my hands under his long-sleeved tee. My fingers bumped over each defined ridge of his stomach, and his eyes fell closed as he leaned back to let me explore. A low, pleasant sound rumbled from his throat. “I don’t know whether to tell you to stop or to go faster,” he growled, and the need in his voice echoed low and hot inside me.
“What if I keep going?” I said as my fingers found the lower ridge of his pectorals. “What happens after this?”
His eyes flew open, and his gaze burned into me like deep blue flames. “Lots of other things we don’t have to do tonight.”
I took a deep breath. “You said I could do whatever I want.”
His hands settled around my wrists and his focus on my eyes intensified. “Abby, there’s no hurry. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“No. But how can I know unless I try?” I kissed him, and my hands slid down his chest again, reaching impatiently for the hem of a garment I wanted to rip from his shoulders.
“Wait,” he said against my lips, and I growled when he removed my hands firmly but gently. Jace laughed, amused by my impatience. “We have plenty of time.”
“What about Luke and Isaac?”
“They’re patrolling for the next two hours.”
“Is that long enough?” I murmured against his neck.
Jace laughed again. “It’s a hell of a start.” He cradled the back of my head, his hand buried deep in my hair, and kissed me again. Then he leaned back against the arm of the couch and looked right into my eyes. “We can do whatever you want. We can stop any time you want, and if you do want to stop, I won’t be mad or disappointed. I don’t want to do anything you don’t like—if you’re not having fun, I won’t be either. And if you just want to sit here and hold my hand, I’ll still consider myself the luckiest son of a bitch on the face of the planet. Okay?”
Jace rolled his eyes. “When we met, I was a nine-year-old and you were a squalling infant.” He held me at arm’s length and gave me a lingering once-over. “Things have changed.”
“And when, exactly, did you realize that?”
“In October, when I showed up at that cabin to rescue you and you’d already killed all the bad guys. And looked great doing it. I’ve spent the two months since then trying to convince myself that I don’t want you, or that I can’t have you, or that you’re still just a kid. By the way, short skirts and late-night kisses very nearly blew all those arguments out of the water.”
“Very nearly?”
“I was trying to be a responsible Alpha.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m off the clock.” He lifted me again, and that time, my legs encircled him on their own.
“Alphas are never off the clock,” I said as his mouth trailed down my neck, and each breath I took seemed to stoke the flames kindling deep inside me.
That was what had been missing with Brian. That spark. The visceral certainty that nothing in the world was more important than touching and being touched.
“Then I’m on call,” Jace murmured against my skin. “They know how to reach me.” He kicked the bedroom door shut, then kissed me again as he carried me across the room, my legs still wrapped around his waist. In the middle of the floor, he looked up to scan the room, and I realized, at the same time he seemed to, that other than the desk chairs, there was nowhere to sit except for the beds.
I tensed in his arms before he could sink onto the edge of the nearest mattress, with me on his lap. “That’s my brother’s bed. They both are.”
He made a face. “Yeah, that’d be weird. Living room?”
“Yes.”
He set me down and tugged me by one hand to the front of the cabin, where he bolted the front door while I closed the blinds, praying no one was peeking through the rear windows of the lodge at that moment. Once everyone else found out about us, the opportunity for privacy would expire.
Butterflies danced in my stomach, and I had a tight, tingly feeling deep in my chest. Making out with Jace was one thing. One mind-numbing, body-quivering, forbidden-fantasy-come-true kind of thing. But keeping that a secret pushed our tryst into the realm of scandal.
No one would ever have thought damaged little Abby Wade capable of such shocking behavior with the country’s only single—and notoriously philandering—Alpha, and that fact heightened my excitement until I could hardly breathe. I felt like someone else. Someone powerful, and beautiful, and in control of her own life.
Someone that a man like Jace Hammond would want.
“So, were you just going to let me marry Brian without saying anything?” I asked, as we settled onto a couch I’d sat on dozens of times in my three and a half years in his Pride.
“I wasn’t going to be what came between the two of you.” He bent for another taste of my neck. “Not on purpose, anyway…”
His kisses burned across my skin, and my heartbeat set the tempo. Every touch sent tendrils of warmth to pool in sensitive places, but the best part was the satisfaction of long-held curiosity. After years of wondering what it would feel like to be touched, to be kissed, to be savored with a patient but eager passion, I was at last living in that moment.
And finally, I dared a bold touch of my own.
Jace made another guttural sound when my hand trailed from his hair down his neck, then over his chest, slowly. Feeling every flat plane and hard ridge. He was made of muscles, each one tense with anticipation, as if he craved contact, but was determined to let me forge my own path. I closed my eyes and let my hands wander while his mouth explored every inch of my neck and shoulders, pushing just past the neckline of my shirt to lick or nibble a neglected surface.
His tongue felt amazing, but the landscape my hands had discovered was equally compelling—Jace’s arms were bulge upon bulge of restrained power. I slid the cotton of his sleeves over each ridge as they bunched and stretched beneath my touch. Then, suddenly, I was sick of his shirt.
“Jace.”
“Mmmm?” he murmured against my collarbone, his breath cooling the warmth his tongue had just left there.
“Can I…” I tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he sat up to look at me.
“You can do anything you want.”
Anticipation buzzed beneath my skin as I slid my hands under his long-sleeved tee. My fingers bumped over each defined ridge of his stomach, and his eyes fell closed as he leaned back to let me explore. A low, pleasant sound rumbled from his throat. “I don’t know whether to tell you to stop or to go faster,” he growled, and the need in his voice echoed low and hot inside me.
“What if I keep going?” I said as my fingers found the lower ridge of his pectorals. “What happens after this?”
His eyes flew open, and his gaze burned into me like deep blue flames. “Lots of other things we don’t have to do tonight.”
I took a deep breath. “You said I could do whatever I want.”
His hands settled around my wrists and his focus on my eyes intensified. “Abby, there’s no hurry. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“No. But how can I know unless I try?” I kissed him, and my hands slid down his chest again, reaching impatiently for the hem of a garment I wanted to rip from his shoulders.
“Wait,” he said against my lips, and I growled when he removed my hands firmly but gently. Jace laughed, amused by my impatience. “We have plenty of time.”
“What about Luke and Isaac?”
“They’re patrolling for the next two hours.”
“Is that long enough?” I murmured against his neck.
Jace laughed again. “It’s a hell of a start.” He cradled the back of my head, his hand buried deep in my hair, and kissed me again. Then he leaned back against the arm of the couch and looked right into my eyes. “We can do whatever you want. We can stop any time you want, and if you do want to stop, I won’t be mad or disappointed. I don’t want to do anything you don’t like—if you’re not having fun, I won’t be either. And if you just want to sit here and hold my hand, I’ll still consider myself the luckiest son of a bitch on the face of the planet. Okay?”
