Bad Wolf(101)

The fall is exquisite. Delicious. Ecstatic. I think I leave my shuddering body for a moment and float above, in a cloud of white light.

Then I come down, and I'm still moving, still moaning with pleasure, milking every last drop of it.

Of him.

Because he's coming hard, his jaw clenched against a shout as he spills inside me, his cum hot like fire, his forehead pressed to mine as his hips buck. I brush my lips over his, and he chases after my mouth, even as he's still coming, still spilling, grunting with pleasure.

Gradually, his movements slow down. He slumps against me, slowly softening, still buried in me. He slams a hand into the trunk above my head.

"Holy fuck. That was … " He shakes his head. "Damn."

He feels so good inside me, even not fully hard, and I love holding on to his trembling body as he struggles to catch his breath. Love the musk of his clean sweat and the nutty scent of his seed, the fainter notes of cinnamon and spice drawing me until I bury my nose where his shoulder meets his neck and inhale deep.

God. So delicious. I'm acting like a mad woman, and I don't care. Besides, nobody is here to see me.

I hope.

"All right, kitten?" He lowers my leg and smooths down my dress, then he lifts one hand and strokes my cheek. It's too dark to see the color of his eyes, but I feel his lips when they touch the tip of my nose.

"Yeah."

I should hate the nickname. Kitten. Ridiculous.

And yet it's cute. As for calling me Embers, I can't complain anymore. Not when I know that Embers means something important to him.

"Not so romantic here," he says. "I know that. I'd buy you flowers. Would you like that?"

Okay, I'm speechless again. "You'd buy me flowers?"

But he hates shopping, is the only coherent thought I manage.

"Hell yeah, I'd buy you flowers. And chocolates, and whatever you want." He cups my face. "Red roses?"

"No." I look away, face heating. What girl doesn't like red roses? "White roses. They stand for new beginnings." I shrug at his arched brow. "My mom's a florist."

He nods, his expression going blank. How weird, I think, that he loves babies but goes stiff when I speak of my parents. That he talks about sending me roses after having sex against a tree trunk. So many contradictions.

"Ready to go?" He takes my hand, and I let him pull me out of the cover of trees, heading toward the street, my mind buzzing.

It's not until we're sitting in a cab and rolling that I realize I'm still not wearing my panties, and that they're lying somewhere in the park.

Then Jesse kisses me, and they're again forgotten. Who needs panties, anyway, with this man? They'd only get in the way.



The house is frigging huge. The gate is open, music and noise spilling into the street. Inside there are pools with stone alligators at the edges. The small crowd of the wedding has expanded. There have to be at least a hundred people milling about the grounds, shadows until they move close to the torches stuck in the ground and the illuminated pools. A long table with food stands on one side. The scent of water tells me we're on the lake shore.

Crazy place. Never expected anything so grand. I hope Asher and Audrey are enjoying their reception. After what I heard during the ceremony, they more than deserve it.

If only I enjoyed this, too …

Jesse's arm is a welcome weight around my shoulders, and I'm grateful beyond words for his presence, but as we stroll along one pool, watching candles and bunches of flowers floating in the milky, lit-up water, I know I have to let him do his thing-talk to his friends, catch up with them, talk to new people, without me attached like a leech to his side. Both for his sake, and mine.

I mean, it doesn't have to be for the whole time, right? I can go find Kayla and Ev, at the very least, and return to him later.                       
       
           



       

If he's still available and willing to hold my hand.

"Trust me," he said earlier.

Maybe I should. Maybe I should trust myself, too, to survive for an hour without need of a babysitter.

A very sexy, handsome babysitter. Still …

"Hey, I was thinking … " I start to pull away from him, and his arm instinctively tightens around my shoulders, then drops to his side.

"What's wrong?" He has to shout to be heard over the music and general hubbub.

"Nothing's wrong." I smile at him, study his beautiful face in the flickering light of the torches. "I thought I'd just go say hi to the girls and find you later. Give you a breather."

"I don't need a breather from you, Embers."

A knot forms in my throat. He keeps saying such sweet things, keeps catching me off guard.

"Just for a while. Need to do this."

He seems about to say something, then thinks better of it and nods instead. A faint smile touches his lips, my favorite one that lights up his eyes.

Before I go, though, he leans in and drops a soft, sweet kiss on my mouth. "Come back whenever you like," he whispers, and my heart does a wild little flip of joy.

"I will."

Wandering away from him is harder than I thought, but I force myself not to look back. Just an hour, Amber, come on.

I push my way through a group of giggling girls, searching for my friends, and for one fleeting, horrible second I think I see Nick from the corner of my eye.

My breath freezes in my lungs. I stop in my tracks, trying to locate him again, but he's gone. Or I imagined him. Oh God, I probably did. Wouldn't be the first time. I used to see him everywhere for a while, back then.

What would he be doing here anyway?

And where are my friends? So many people. It's as if they sprouted from the tiled floor. I swear the wedding was a much smaller affair. Which makes sense, I guess, but it's only sinking in now, as I wander, lost, bumping into people, fast working myself into a panic.

I rub at the leather band on my wrist and suck in a deep breath.

The crowd parts a little toward the end of the pool, and I see familiar faces at last. Zane's blue Mohawk is like a flashing road sign, and not far from him, I spot Micah and Ev. I open my mouth to call her name, but they seem to be having a serious conversation, judging from their frowning faces.

Uh-oh. Not a good time.

I backpedal before they notice me. Kayla is nowhere to be seen, and Zane and Dakota are heading off, toward the buffet, together with Dylan and his little brothers.

Maybe eating something isn't a bad idea. I should ask Jesse if he'd like to join me. I retrace my steps, hurrying back along the pool to its other end, pushing against the flow.

Yeah, so I didn't even make it for fifteen minutes on my own. But truth is, I am hungry. Starving. Couldn't eat all day from the nerves, and the smells coming from the back of the garden are mouthwatering. My stomach is growling like a beast from hell.

Hey, he did say I could go back to him whenever I wanted, right? And although I've only been away from him only a moment, I find a spring in my step and a lightness in my heart as I walk back toward him.

You got it bad, girl.

But I can't keep from smiling as I wade through a cluster of laughing guys who are waving beer bottles and smoking what I only hope is tobacco-in search of JJ.

And I find him.

Only, something's wrong with the picture. My mind refuses to process what my eyes are seeing, and I stop so abruptly the momentum carries me forward one more step.

Jesse is kissing a girl. Her hands are on his shoulders and her mouth on his, and I can't …  can't breathe. Can't speak.

Can't frigging think.

My hands are shaking. The tremor spreads to my arms.

I should have expected this. Why didn't I expect this? Everyone warned me, everyone. People don't change just like that, from one woman to the next. A manwhore won't change his ways for me.

I was only gone fifteen minutes …

Turning away blindly, I make for the garden gate. I can't get out of here fast enough. My heart hurts. It's cracking, shattering.

Stupid, Amber. That was so stupid of you, to fall for him.

I think I hear him calling my name, and I start to run, my sandals clacking on the paved floor. I duck under arms, squeeze between people in my rush to get out of there. Disoriented, I slow down and glance around.

There. The gate.

A moment later I'm out on the street, calling a cab. I'm lucky, there's one in the vicinity. I walk further down the road while waiting, and as I hear a commotion at the gate, and my name being called once more, I climb into the cab and speed away.

If only fixing my heart could be so simple.                       
       
           



       





Part Three





My name's Jesse Lee, not Jesse James, but the famous outlaw and I seem to have lots in common. I'm not a train robber by any stretch, but I know what it's like to be poor. I'm not a gang leader, but I've lived on the dirty streets for years. I'm no murderer, but by the looks some people give me, I might as well be. I'm always on the run, always on the move, never sprouting roots, always drifting, like my namesake.

He's dead, and I'm alive, but I might as well be dead and buried in his grave. I might as well be him-because if I said I wanted to stop running, that I want a home and a girl to love and hold, nobody would believe me.