2: Leer - Pack Takeover (3 page)

The way he let me take my feet, I ended up straddling his leg. My thigh lifted, and his hand, of its own volition, wrapped under the fleshy part where my leg connects to my ass--his fingertips only a scant distance, a tickling, teasing nuance from my center. It was very sexy. Since I was wearing a short skirt, his hand on the underside of my thigh, all possessive like that--just felt--like foreplay. A promise. The wait, maybe only seconds, was long enough for the feeling to sink in. I looked up at him--anticipating. Ya know?

Leer…leered down at me. You don’t often hear about men giving sultry looks, but that's what it was. Sultry, sensual. Promising. He licked his lips. I remember that, because I thought…it was like he was getting ready to eat, already savoring the meal.

His head swooped in, pushing mine back, locking lip to lip.

I felt his other hand slide over my hip, up my waist, around my back. I arched into him, wanting my breasts to rub against his body, wanting him to desire me as much as I craved his touch. He tilted over me. The embrace probably looked like something off the cover of a torrid romance. A dip on a dance floor.

When we came up for air, we were both panting again.

Chapter Three

Very slowly, he let go of my leg. Even more slowly, I let it ride down his.

Let me tell you, the guy can kiss. I wanted more of it.

He said, “I didn’t believe it.”

“What?” I was forward. I was already working on unbuttoning his shirt.

He was trembling. That surprised me. I didn’t lift my head--just my eyes. His fingers were sweating. I could feel it through the back of my shirt--and through the hand he now had on my hip. He barely had a hold of me, like he was afraid to get a real grip again.

The kiss--he’d had a hold of me then. But he was fighting something, I could tell. I know now--he was trying not to unleash the beast.

He kind of laughed. It sounded a little like a hoarse dog. “Well…” His fingers on my hip squeezed, ever so slightly. “I’ve been with plenty of women.”

That didn’t surprise me. Big, good-looking guy like that--reeking of his pheromones. I’ll bet they fell at his feet in droves.

I teased, relieved to get the last of his shirt buttons free. “What? You’re not a virgin?” I tsked like it was a bad thing and grinned.

He laughed again. Another show of nervousness.

I pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. There, in glory and moonlight that filtered through the half closed drapes, his upper torso was illuminated. Broad, broad shoulders. Tight vee’d waist. Washboard abs, big deltoids and pectoral muscles. The body of Mr. Universe.

He was tense, too. Like--and this is gonna sound crazy--like maybe he was afraid I wouldn’t be impressed. Like--it mattered if I was attracted.

Forget the man’s to-die-for scent. The fact that we
were
going to screw. That fact was undeniable. He
cared
whether or not I thought he was good-looking.

That knowledge, when it came to me, sort of empowered me. Perhaps it is the kin in me speaking. If he was this good--what were the rest of the relatives like?

The thought was fleeting. My interest was piqued.

And the minute it flitted through my brain, he knew it. His fingers bit into me. Not on purpose, mind you. He couldn’t help it. Garou are fiercely possessive of their bitches--and vice versa. But the bottom line is, when something better comes along, they trade up.

But kin--we’re the top of the line, so to speak. And I was prime. I didn’t know it, but my tall, leggy build, my superior intelligence… I had pretty much everything a garou wants. And oh my heavens, I don’t know what had kicked in my pheromone regulator--probably him--or the close proximity to him when he prowled my city looking for me--but when it kicked in, it kicked in
in high gear
. I was a freaking bitch in heat.

I was all over him. Touching every contour of his body, sniffing.

Driving him crazy. Talk about your turn-ons.

He had scars. Gash marks on his ribs and back. One set, on his side, looked like a bear had slashed at him--and drawn blood. My fingers trailed over each mark, softly tickling his sensitized skin. He squared his shoulders and turned his head to the ceiling. He probably wanted to howl or something. In agony. The wait was torturing him.

But I had to see. I had to feel. To smell. To explore. I circled him, never letting go, never losing contact.

I’d forgotten the conversation. He said, “They told me that I’d be able to find you--by your scent.” He laughed again. “But I had no idea what it would do to me.”

He didn’t tell me then that there were others… sniffing for me. That would come. That he would fight.

When I was in front of him again, I paused with my fingers at the top of his jeans. Tipping my head back, swishing my hair over my shoulders, I asked, “What’s it do to you?”

Another wolfish grin. He shook his head. “You don’t wanna know.”

I lifted my hands from his pants, like maybe I was done. He grabbed them quick, drew me closer, helped me lay them flat on his body. He whispered--well, he begged, “Don’t stop touching me.”

“So, you found me by smell?” That didn’t sound very flattering. I frowned.

Leer’s fingers rubbed across the backs of my hands. “I love the way you smell.”

I swooned against him, pressed my lips to his sternum, closed my eyes and tried not to die right there. His voice was so--resonant. It’s hard to explain. It’s like every word is dragged up from down in his solar plexus, packed with restrained emotion--and there’s a hint of insecurity, subservience. It didn’t make sense.

It made my toes curl and my belly twirl. I mean… one of those spiraling feelings that goes right down into your crotch. Makes your legs--your whole body--feel energized.

I don’t know when it occurred to me that I probably had been waiting for him. For some time, too--actually. For weeks? Months? I’d been looking over my shoulder. Spending more time outdoors. Taking walks in the park. Excursions to the woods outside of town. And that was just plain crazy. I was born and bred in the city. A downtown girl.

It wasn’t conscious thought that drew my tongue from my mouth for a lick. I didn’t even think about it. Didn’t realize it. At least, not until he groaned my name.

“Ah, Kayty. You’re going to unman me.”

Now, there’s more than one meaning to that phrase. Three that apply to werewolves. He was ready to explode, literally, into the feral beast that lurks beneath the surface at all times--not just when the moon is full. Whoever wrote that bullshit should be shot. The real garou--they change at will. Sometimes out of their own control--kind of like the things in the movies. But it has more to do with emotions than moon phases.

Anyhow, they sometimes refer to uncontrolled changing as ‘unmanning.’ Makes sense. They change from man form to wolf. Another meaning, which really is the same as emasculating, is when the garou becomes a whipped pup--controlled by his bitch. And of course, the last definition is when he is about to embarrass himself because he can’t restrain his mating urges. Leer was right there. At all three points. He took one of my hands and pushed it toward the top of his jeans, silently insisting that I free his manhood…while it was still manhood.

Either way, his erection was going inside of me. I just had no idea what my ancestors had lined me up for. There is no way you can be prepared for what happened between Leer and I.

At the time, it didn’t seem odd to me that I was undressing him. Now, I look back and think…Leer was amazing. His self-restraint was crazy. He followed protocol.

He said, “I have to tell you, I want to rape you.”

Hearing it, knowing he wasn’t planning on it, but wanted to, again I was empowered. I stopped with only one button on his jeans undone, crossed my arms and pulled my own T-shirt over my head. I don’t know where it went. I didn’t care. I looked up at him, smiled--practically begged him to do it.

He kept his gaze on my face. I think he was afraid to look further. Like that would be the end of being civilized.

I’m telling you, his eyes glowed in the dark. His teeth gleamed.

I whispered, “God, you’re big.”

His smile grew. He asked softly, “You like that?”

I laughed a little. But I didn’t answer.

He didn’t tell me that there were bigger garou than him. That he was a young pup in comparison. Or that he’d broken the rules, come for me before... Let me just say, if he’d waited another few days, I probably would have found the pack. My trips to the woods, those weren’t just coincidence. The kin in me was growing up, seeking--like an inner compass--the den. But others were looking for me, too. Someone would have found me.

I’m just glad it was Leer.

I reached behind my back and undid my bra. If he wasn’t going to notice that I had on a scalloped-lace Victoria’s Secret that cost the earth
and
matched my panties, then I was going to get rid of it. I dangled it in front of his face, asking, “You didn’t even notice this, did you?”

He shook his head, his gaze still pinned to mine. He was not going to look at it. I tossed it, too.

I had to ask, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking--you’re a tease.”

We both smiled.

I backed away slowly. I slipped out of my clogs, kicked them behind me, then buried my toes in the rug. Running my hands down my butt, I flaunted my breasts.

It’s the craziest thing when you know that peripheral vision puts it all in the picture, but the focus is on a person’s eyes. You still register the rise and fall of their breathing pattern, the tightening of their fingers.

He was itching to touch me. My nipples puckered in anticipation.

I asked, “You like that, don’t you?” My teasing. My breasts. Me. All part of the question.

He growled.

I laughed. Then I turned on my heels and reached behind me, grabbing the back zipper on my skirt, thinking I’d pull a ‘Pretty Woman’ on him, like Julia Roberts did in the movie. I almost took it down, but paused, looked over my shoulder--almost giggled--then dropped my hands to the wall in front of me and asked, “Could you do it, please?”

All I can say is…never turn your back on a wolf. It’s an invitation. They’re going to climb on your back.

He growled again and suddenly he was up against me, his hands were around the front of my body, gently--okay, not too gently--fondling my breasts, actually squeezing my nipples to their greatest length.

His erection pressed into my backside. He rubbed his chest over my bare back. The bristle of his chest hairs tickled my skin. He buried his nose in my hair, right under my ear. And then he pushed. Well, he stroked against me. Rubbed his cock against my ass, with the barriers of material the only thing that kept me from getting done in that position.