Bad Wolf(53)

The orgasm hits me without a warning. I hold on to Jarett as wave after wave pounds me, as I tighten around his hard cock, and shudder again, the sensations going on and on.

He's panting, I realize, rocking in shallow thrusts inside me, and then he stills, moaning long and low, looming over me, every muscle taut and his beautiful face twisted with pleasure as he comes. I feel his hot cum spill inside me, triggering new spasms of pleasure.

I catch him when his arms give way, and he drops on top of me. He tries not to crush me, but it takes him a long moment to find his coordination.

"Stay," I tell him, wrapping my arms around him as he struggles to push off me. I like his weight on me. "Please stay."

Stay with me.

He sighs, his head resting on my boobs. "Love you, Gigi," he mutters, and I blink, not sure I heard him right.

But he says nothing more, and I thread my fingers through his thick, dark hair, wondering.



We doze on and off, and eventually he gets up and drags me off the sofa.

Then he swings me up in his arms and carries me to his bedroom. He lays me down, and I stare up into his clear eyes, smiling.

His mouth quirks. He lies down beside me and pulls the covers over us, then puts his arms around me. "I missed this last night. Missed you."

"Then why didn't you come over?"

"I dunno. Cuz of things going to shit, I guess. Losing my job, and all these …  these fucking doubts. About myself. About what I considered important."

I stroke his bare chest, and feel a few raised ridges under his ink. My hands can see things my eyes can't.

"You have scars on your chest."

He's been half-dozing, but now he frowns, a small unhappy line between his brows. "A few. That accident, when I was little. Then a couple more over the years. Once I fell off the porch when I lived with Connor. Busted my head open, too."

"Where?" I trail my hand up the side of his face, to his hair, and he shivers. "Ah, found it." A thin scar, on the top of his head. "Where else?"

He huffs. "My fucking knee."

"Let me see."

"What for? It's damn ugly."

"Nothing about you is ugly. I want to see." I meet his heavy-lidded gaze. "To see everything that hurts. Everything that made you who you are."

He looks like he's about to refuse, object, but he releases me from his arms and pushes down the covers. He folds his arms under his head, all those strong muscles in full display, but his face is stoic as I crouch over his leg. Like he expects me to make a face, or say something nasty.

I study the mass of scars. "Surgery?"

"Yeah. Several. For a while they thought I wouldn't walk again."

Ow. I hurt on his behalf. The scars are shaped funny, like they're too short for the width of his leg, and then I realize it's because he was little when it all happened.

Bending over, I kiss the scarred flesh, gently caress it with my fingers.

Gasping, he half rises, abs tightening into a six-pack, his cock stirring. "Fuck."

Grinning, I move my lips over the mass of scars to the inside of his thigh, so close to his balls and cock his musk fills my senses. Fascinated, I watch his cock fill out steadily, his balls draw up.

He drops back on his elbows, gaze going dark. "Gigi." His voice has dropped to a low growl. "Don't start something you're not gonna finish."

"Who says I won't?" I run my hand over his thigh, over his muscled stomach, watching his cock swell more and lift up.

"You're killing me," he groans, and lets out a hissing breath when I take his cock in my mouth. "Hot damn … "

His spine arches. His body jerks. Then he tries to settle down as I suck on the saltiness of his length, placing one hand on his taut stomach, letting the other play with his balls. I roll them on my palm and more saltiness floods my mouth.

His fingers curl in the covers. "Fuck, that is … " His hips rock up as he fucks my mouth. I release his balls and wrap my hand around the base of his thick cock. "Yeah, like that. Shit yeah. Suck it hard. Harder."

I'm so horny just from sucking him, hearing him, seeing how excited he is, sensing how close to the edge. From tasting him, so bitter and spicy and so sexy, so perfect with his scars and his pain, his loyalty and his hidden vulnerability.                       
       
           



       

I've never felt so close to anyone before.

His breathing is frantic now. His hips rock up uncontrollably, his cock twitches, spilling more salt and bitterness in my mouth, and I drink him in, stroking him and sucking until he cries out. Then I pull back, breathing hard, still stroking his cock, watching his cum splash on his chest, painting it in long white lines.

That's hot. His cum, crisscrossing his tattoos, covering the scars, laid over his abs and strong pecs.

"A work of art," I whisper, and then I catch the glint of his cat-like eyes and grin.

"You're a crazy girl." He chuckles, a deep, husky sound that I feel inside my belly, and between my legs.

"Like you didn't know."

"You're right, I should've known. After all, you're here with me."

I look around for something to clean him up with, hiding my face, because my eyes burn. "Of course I am."

Grabbing a discarded T-shirt that's draped on the nightstand-how did that get there?-he sits up and wipes his chest clean, then throws it to the floor.

"Come here." He opens his arms and winks. "My turn to make you cry out."

"No, just … " I don't know how to express everything I feel for him. My body is flushed and aroused, but that's not what I need right now. "Just hold me?"

"Always," he breathes. "God, always."

Those words, and the feeling of being hidden in his embrace. Yes, this is exactly what I need. This. Now and always.



Early morning finds us in his tiny kitchen, drinking instant coffee in chipped mugs. The only ones he owns, apparently. I sit on the table, swinging my legs, while he stands at the counter, sipping his coffee.

He looks hot, in those low-slung sweats that reveal the delicious dimples at his hips and show his bare chest in all its glory.

Then again, what's new? This boy's always hot.

As the caffeine seeps into my system, though, clearing cobwebs, I realize there's something wrong with this whole picture. "What happened to your chairs?"

"Seb broke them in one of his fits."

God. "That what happened to the rest of your mugs, too?"

He grins cheekily. "Nah. Never needed more than two."

I snicker. "Tell me you only have one fork and knife, too."

"Fewer things to wash." His grin fades. He glances around. "Yeah, I know, this place's a dump. I won't be staying here for much longer anyway."

"Why not?"

He shrugs. "No money for rent. I'll find something cheaper. But first I need to find another job."

"About that. I had this idea. My brother in law, Matt? He and his brother own a garage. Mancave."

"You serious? They called the garage Mancave?"

"Ah-huh. Newsflash: my whole family's sort of crazy."

His smile returns, fainter. "I believe you. And they're nice people. Like you."

Aw, be still my heart. "Yeah, they're super nice. Matt and Kaden, his brother, have been expanding their business. They just took on a new mechanic, Evan, but they need more help. My sister was helping them out in the office, but now with the baby she's out of commission for a while, and they've been looking for an assistant to take her place. I figured you could do that. Until you find something better."

Hope flashes in his eyes. Then it dims again. "Why would they hire me? They barely know me, and I don't want any favors."

"It's not a favor when it's for the family."

I stop. Have I gone too far?

But he's only giving me a strange look. "Okay. I'll ask." And then he smiles, his eyes crinkling. "Thank you."





Chapter Thirty-Two





Jarett





So here I am, cleaned up as best I can, standing outside the Hansen Brothers Garage, nervous as hell.

I'd much rather put my fist through a wall than ask Gigi's family for favors. They owe me nothing. Nobody owes me. But I need a job, this job, or I'll never be able to leave the gang.

I know that now. That I need to leave. Breaking ties won't be easy, but that this is a first step. Because I've seen Gigi's family, I've seen what a real family is like, and I fucking want that.

With Gigi.

The thought doesn't shock me anymore. The thought of being with her. It's been on my mind practically since I met her that first night in that club.

And if I want to be really fucking honest with myself, since I met her.

Still, it makes me stop and close my eyes, think of her. Think about it all, how my life has changed with her, how my thoughts cleared and the world turned fucking bright with her.                       
       
           



       

My girl.

Someone is coming toward me from inside the garage, and I make myself move. It's a blond guy, and I vaguely recognize him as Matt Hansen's brother, Kaden.