Shift Happens(35)

“A kiss from me,” he said, his voice a soft whisper. “That is the price I demand for your favor.”

I hesitated.

“You have to let me kiss you, Andy.”

Wringing my hands together, I jerked my gaze up and focused on the ceiling. “Some ground rules.” My voice came out strong despite my crumbling will power.

Wick shook his head. “No. I get to kiss you. No other rules.”

“On the lips?” I pointed to them in case Wick needed further clarification.

Amusement danced across Wick’s face along with something else. He nodded.

My teeth sank into my bottom lip and my gaze traveled down his muscular frame to where I wanted to place my hands…and my mouth. Although tempted to give in—to let him lead where my body wanted to go—I couldn’t. “And if I decline?”

Wick shrugged. “Better get ready for a long flight.”

Exasperated, I shut my eyes and let my head fall back. There was no way I could fly that distance. My arm was still too weak and I hated breaking into my own place naked. “You’re impossible,” I groaned.

“Your call.” His voice wrapped around me and my eyes snapped back open. Wick’s attention fixated on my exposed throat. But he held back and waited. His wolf had risen and with a musky coconut scent floating across the room, I smelled exactly what he wanted—me.

My body responded instantly. Heat moved like molten lava through my veins. I was on fire. And he hadn’t touched me yet.

Want. My wolf panted. Good mate.

Wick’s knowing smile caused another heat to spread across my cheeks. “Red is a nice colour on you,” he said. His hands moved up to cradle my face. He leaned down so our lips almost touched. His peppermint breath brushed against my mouth. “Do we have a deal?” he asked. His deep voice rumbled, sending shivers of pleasure rippling down my body.

No longer capable of speech, I nodded. His lips quirked up in a smile before he brought them down to meet mine. Son of a bitch. I’d expected a hard demanding kiss, but what I got was gentle. His lips were soft and smooth on mine, searching, and inviting me to respond. One of his hands moved to the back of my head to curl up in my hair. The other slid down my body. Grazing over my breast, he brought his hand up to cup the weight. His thumb ran over my nipple. The simple touch through the fabric sent sensual sensations through my body, making it throb with desire.

My arms wrapped around his muscled frame and splayed across his back. Our bodies pressed together, forming an unbearable searing intensity. Lost in the sensation of feeling him everywhere on me, I was vaguely aware of being lowered on the sofa.

Instinctively, my body arched under his caress. My head dropped back. “Wick,” I breathed. His face rose up to meet mine again. His lips crushing the protest I was about to voice. Lost in his touch, I melted into him.

Pinning me back, there was a ripping sound and a brief sensation of cool air on my skin before Wick’s body covered me.

Dylan slammed me against the wall, shredding my clothes with one swipe of his claws. A paralyzing fear trembled over my body, raising goosebumps on my arms and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. My heart pumped fast and hard against my chest.

Just kill me. Please.

Wick dropped his head to trail kisses down my body, but I remained immobile, consumed by the fear leaking out of the hole in my soul. Wick looked up from my navel. His nose flared and the line between his eyebrows deepened. He froze into a rigid mass of muscle, hovering above me.

“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows pinched together. “Why do I smell fear?” He kept his body poised above mine and looked down at me with concern. “I would never hurt you.”

I shook my head. “We can’t do this.” I scrambled out from underneath him.

Wick let me go before collapsing on the couch. “Please don’t run from me, Andy. We need to talk about this.”

My stomach rolled. I knew to what he referred—what I needed to talk about. But no amount of talking could heal the scars Dylan left. My nightmares would still haunt me. Holding the fragments of my shirt together, I turned to face him. “Where are the keys?” I asked.

Wick didn’t answer; instead, he sprang up from the couch. There was hurt in his expression, and he smelled frustrated, but he stalked silently out of the room, only to return a few minutes later to hold his hand out in front of me and jingle the car keys on his finger.

When I reached out, he snapped the keys away from me. When I flinched at the quick movement, Wick’s face softened. “Mel told me about Dylan’s pack, Andy. About the forced union  s.”

I stiffened and dropped my gaze to the floor.