River Wolf(55)

“I’ll stay,” she began and at his broadening smile, she added, “But in the guest room.”

“For now.” Damn man sounded so agreeable.

“We should go back to the picnic.”

“We don’t have to.”

“Yeah.” She gave into a small temptation and stroked his chest through the shirt. “Whether we have to or not, we should. You have guests and I’m not quite ready for whatever the hell this is we’re doing.” Liar, liar. Pants. On. Fire.

“Colby.” God, she loved the way he said her name. It seemed to elevate her, make her so much more…and usurped her sense of self.

Turnabout was fair play. “Brett.”

The grooves at the corners of his mouth deepened, and it pulled taut the mottled skin of his burn scars. Odd how she barely noticed them until she stood so close, memorizing his features. “Nothing will happen without you saying yes…you can say no. You can run all you want.”

“Not going to stop you from chasing is it?”

His expression grew sober. “You intrigue me on multiple levels. There is something wildly special about you, Colby Jensen.”

If that was a line, damn he delivered it well. “I don’t think you’re any kind of slouch.” Unpredictable. Daring. Charming. Scary as hell.

And amazing all at once…

“Promise me a week?”

“How about we take it one day at a time?” A week was a lot to commit to.

“I would love to be able to say yes, but I have a great many obligations—friends, family, business. I want the time to spend with you and to get to know you. I want you to have a chance to know me.” He brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “Give me a week?”

Moistening her lips was a reflex, but the way his gaze locked on her mouth sent a fresh zing of sensation through her already overwrought system. “You have to stop looking at me like you want to eat me up.”

“But I do want to eat you up—and down and anywhere else we may find ourselves.”

She was about to be a puddle. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back. Maybe if she didn’t stare at him, she’d get her shit together. “You’re not helping.”

“You said no more kissing.”

“Actually, what I said was hold it, Magic Mouth.”

“True…” Before she could fully process the admission, his mouth closed on hers and she groaned at the invasion of his tongue. He cradled her face in his hands, giving her no escape from the onslaught devastating her system. When he finally released her lips, his gaze fixed on hers and his dark eyes gleamed, as if they glowed from within. “Where would you like me to hold my Magic Mouth now?”

Laughter burbled beneath her passion and she gave him a playful shove. It didn’t even rock him. Pushing a stone would have been more effective, but still he backed away a pace, giving her breathing room. The slow grin he wore buoyed her.

“I’m hungry.” No way she could win the she didn’t want him to kiss her debate. God, she wanted him to kiss her. New life. New leaf. Think things through, don’t just leap… No matter how attractive the landing pad was.

With a knowing glint, he inclined his head before offering his arm. “Then if you’ll allow me, we’ll return to the picnic so that you may eat…or I can take you to my room and bring you dinner in bed.”

Bastard. Her stomach went taut at the offer. “Picnic is fine. I’m supposed to flee and you’re supposed to chase.” That’s how it went in the movies. The women played hard to get and if the men really wanted them, they didn’t let a little rejection slow them down.

“Don’t worry, I’m right behind you.”

She didn’t doubt it for a second. Colby girl, what are you doing? She wasn’t only playing with fire, she danced in it.





Chapter Ten





The next three days passed in a blur of activity tangled with bliss and frustration. Bliss, because Colby made good on her word to remain at his home. Frustration because she kept to the guest room while sharing drugging kisses and driving him wild with the scent of her desire. His frustration only magnified because his pack realized his door was open again.

Colby hated early mornings, so he waited to make breakfast until after ten most days. The more he grew to know Colby the more he discovered her likes and dislikes. She preferred bagels to toast, fried eggs to scrambled and loved real hash browns fried from shredded potatoes. He planned to make some while she had her coffee and sandwich—after ten in the morning and not likely earlier.

When a car pulled in and parked out front the same moment he poured her coffee because she’d opened her bedroom door, they took it too damn far. Aggravation roiled through him. Setting her coffee next to the fried egg and cheese toasted bagel he’d prepared for her; he scowled at the interruption waiting to knock on his door.