Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series (61 page)

His hand got busy, unbuttoning her, spreading open her blouse. She liked sexy lingerie. Even if no one but her would see it, she loved the way the fabrics touched her. Silk and satin. The soft cups or the crueler ones that pushed her up, held her in place for a lover’s kiss that wasn’t coming and left red marks on her skin. Even better was the satisfaction of sliding the thing off, slipping free at the end of the day. This bra was her favorite, a rich gold with petal-soft cups and black lace.

“La Perla.” The words tumbled out of her mouth.

“I like it.” Her skin heated up where his fingers tickled her skin, like the champagne had that night ten years ago. But did he like
her
? She was more than her lingerie, more than the things she’d acquired along the way.

“
Souvenir
. That’s what you need. A little keepsake reminder.” His Cajun-French accent still did wicked, wicked things to her insides. Surrendering to the moment, she leaned back against her couch, savoring the slick sensation of the upholstery beneath her. When she looked down, La Perla was doing its job, shaping her breasts into the prettiest pale mounds. She liked her breasts. That part of her wasn’t the problem.

Her breathing hitched. This was such a bad idea. But it had been so long and she wanted another taste.

“Jus’ a memory,” he growled softly, as if he could read her mind. He dropped to his knees. The change in position should have put her in the position of power, but he was in charge. Oh, God. Was he ever.

He brushed his mouth over the lacy cups and the exquisite pressure against her nipples had her sucking in a harsh breath and arching up.
Take it off
, she mentally pleaded.
Bare me.

Like he had in Vegas, he knew what she needed. Big hands folded her skirt up, the fabric creasing around her waist and she’d have to send it to the dry cleaners and should she take him up to her bedroom and…her brain sputtered and stopped.
Naked.
Luc made that rough sound of pleasure she loved so much as he found her knees with his hands and opened her up.

“You’re downrigh’ gorgeous,
shug
.”

For him, she wanted to be. He was gorgeous in a rough, fierce way. From the hard line of his jaw to the dark glitter in his eyes as he stared at her body laid out for him.
His.
For the moment. Because right now she wanted him and he was offering. By tomorrow or even later tonight, however, the orgasms would fade and then what would she have? He drew his fingers up her thighs, leaving small sparks of pleasure where he touched and…she was ten years older. Softer. Her body had more than a little wear and tear on it and what if the reality of her wasn’t as good as whatever fantasy he’d nursed for those years?

“Panties stay on.” Her sudden nerves were ridiculous. He’d seen everything before. She was what she was and no amount of wishing would transform her into a swimsuit model in the next five minutes. Five years wouldn’t have been enough.

He nodded. “Whatever you wan’.”

Oh, the fantasies of having him at her beck and call… He ran his thumb over the center of her panties, like he was testing to see just how soft she was. And
wet
. She was wet too because she liked what he was doing to her.

More than liked. His fingers brushing over her lace-covered folds made her ache and dampen. She wanted him beneath her panties, stabbing deep inside, but she’d made the rules.
He
was only playing by them.

He circled her clit with his thumb and she moaned, unable to hold back the little sound.

“
Oui
,” he growled. “That’s what I wan’ to hear. You, comin’ on my fingers. Lettin’ me know how much you enjoy this.”

He hooked a finger in the side of her panties and tugged, making room for himself. Still playing by the rules she’d set, he slipped a rough, male finger beneath the edge. Stroked over her where she was wet and swollen.

She moaned softly as he petted her. He was in no rush. Thank God. So she let it feel good. She could kick him out later. Do all the things she was supposed to do…later. Right now was all about Luc.

Curling his fingers into her, he leaned closer.

“Now I’m takin’ your panties down.”

Please.

Not waiting for an answer, he pulled, leaving the lace stretched around her upper thighs. Luc Breaux was definitely in charge. Bound by her panties, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t open her thighs wider in silent demand for
more
.

He kissed her
there
. No lead up, no sweet tease. He closed his mouth over her clit and sucked gently. Oh, God. The erotic suction had her crying out, her hands flying to his shoulders, digging into his T-shirt and the hard skin beneath.

He lifted his head and she groaned in frustration. “Hands by your side.”

When she hesitated, he blew lightly, the air tormenting her swollen clit.

“Do it.”

Or what? She dug her teeth into her lower lip, biting back the question. Luc would show her. She had no doubt of that, or that she would enjoy his sweet punishment. Was she ready to play those dark games with him? Tonight?

She pressed her hands into the couch beside her hips.

“You trust me,” he said, fierce satisfaction filling his face. She had no idea whether his words were a question or a statement. Maybe a promise.

He came back to her, circling his tongue around her clit. Licking the sides, tasting her. Licking and teasing until the tiny tremors started to build inside her, the pulse between her legs threatening to drown out the banging of her heart.
Luc.

He took her with his mouth and she kept her hands flat on the sofa, not touching him. She wanted to tell him to come here, to hurry up. To slow down and stretch the moment out for hours. By ordering her to keep her hands by her sides, he’d made this about her pleasure and not his. Her thighs shook as her body tensed, fighting to come as he licked another wicked path around her clit. All she could do was
feel
—and hold on.

One finger dipped into her pussy, slid deep inside her in a sure, liquid glide. He pulled out, switching fingers, and worked the first against her tight rear hole. She tensed, relaxed into the bright pop of pleasure-pain as he breached virgin territory.

“Luc.” His name tumbled out before she could hold it back.

And then he stopped. Lifted his head and looked her in the eye.

“Ask me for it.”

“I’m not asking you for anything.” She’d spent her adult lifetime making sure she didn’t ask for anything from anyone—and that included him. No matter how good he made her feel, she didn’t
have
to have this.

“Then demand it from me,” he growled.

Oh, that worked for her. Her pussy dampened more, her body relaxing for him. She grabbed his beautiful, fierce face between her hands.

“Make me come.”

Ordering him she could do. Giving in was something else entirely.

He did something with his fingers, spearing her ass and her pussy, his fingertips rubbing and coaxing and she came apart, her body taking a slow, melting tumble into orgasm. Arm pressed over her face, her mouth working against her own skin in a silent cry.

“Beautiful,” he growled, turning his face until his cheek rested against her thigh. Like he was breathing her in and that was enough.

~*~

She was still trying to come to terms with her new boneless condition when something or someone in the garden set off a silent alarm. She’d debated going the home security system route, not liking the idea of living in a fortress, but she was a woman alone and shit happened. She’d bought the service.

“You’ve got company.” Luc tapped the monitor on her coffee table.

She shrugged away from his hold, putting herself back together. Pulled up her panties and tugged her skirt down. It was likely wasted effort, because the look on his face said he just wanted to undo her again. Like he knew that she wore her self-control like armor and he planned to peel it all away.

Picking up her phone, she studied the screen before flipping it around so he could see. “I’ve got a dog in my back garden.”

Yeah. That was a question mark he heard in her voice. He studied the image. The big black wolf had a chunk missing from its left ear. Golden eyes looked up at the security camera as the wolf let out a snarl.
Oui.
He’d bet most humans wouldn’t be messing with an animal like that, on their property or not.

She fidgeted with the phone. “I’ll call animal control. Again.”

“There’s nothing they can do for you here.” She could dial and dial, but the problem in her backyard was way beyond what Animal Control could handle.

“That’s a dog. A wolf. A fucking coyote. Whatever it is, it’s furry, has four legs, and no business being in my garden.”

“
Oui
.” His easy agreement about had her keeling over from the shock. When she reached for the phone, however, he touched the back of her hand and shook his head. “They can’t fix this for you,
boo
.”

“Give me a believable reason.” Because she needed something other than the niggling recollection that animal control didn’t work after hours. She could have a rampaging dinosaur in her backyard, but it would only be collected between the hours of nine and five.

“That’s not a wolf.”

“Uh-huh.” And, hallelujah, they’d set a new record. Luc had agreed with her twice in one evening.

“That’s a werewolf.”

“Werewolves are a really fun literary fiction. There’s no such thing—and definitely
not
in my backyard.”

“Am I a figment of your imagination?”

“Are you telling me that you’re a werewolf?”

He stared at her levelly. “You know that I am. I shifted in front of you in Vegas ten years ago.”

“I thought I’d imagined that. Werewolves in Las Vegas. You expect me to believe that?”

His cool amusement wasn’t funny at all. He was bad news, offering raw sex and appealing to her inner bad girl. “I’m not trapped in the bayou,
boo
. So I’m sayin’ it one more time. That male out there—he’s not a dog. Animal Control isn’t goin’ to be a solution here.”

“Uh-huh.” She shoved off the couch and he let her go. “Is this where you tell me you’ve got a better plan?”

“Shit,
shug
. Do we have to play show and tell right now? What do you think happened to those wolves chasin’ you earlier tonight?”

~*~

I’m a werewolf.

I tore that last pack of bastards apart with my hands—and I’ll do this wolf with my teeth.

Yeah. He didn’t need an inner consult to know his mate didn’t want to hear those things. For her, what happened in Vegas had stayed there—until tonight. She was his fated mate, his only and one shot at staying human. That made her the center of his fucking universe, whether he liked it or not. Equally clearly, she didn’t reciprocate the feeling. He was more like a scribble in the margin on the page of her life. Or something. He didn’t have words to describe what he felt, but…
hurt
might cover it.

Even after just their one night in Vegas, he’d known things about her. That she was driven, motivated and smart. She’d made it clear she was pursuing a law career—and that it consumed the better portion of her time. She was modern, independent and…the slightest bit fragile, although she would have killed rather than admit it. She’d been trying to move past her trailer park childhood and she’d been succeeding. He, on the other hand, was an atavistic wolf, more brutal predator than man and, after a few days in the city, he yearned for the solitude of the bayou. They weren’t even opposites, they were so far apart. How could he have dragged her back with him, forced her to live with the Pack?

She also still didn’t back down. She advanced on him, her words smacking into him like bullets, the not-a-wolf outside temporarily forgotten. Her proximity made him want to growl. To touch. He’d had his hands all over his, his mouth on her pussy, but now she was pushing him away.

She leaned down, slapping her hands on either side of him on the pretty cream sofa. “If you’ve got proof, show me. I’m not basing any decision on something I might—or might not—have seen ten years ago in Vegas. I’d been drinking. I was tired.”

Right. Proof. His mate preferred the
i
’s dotted and the
t
’s crossed. Since offering her proof was the one thing he
could
do, he stood up and reached for the hem of his T-shirt. She backed the hell up, giving him space to work as his hands went to the buttons on his jeans. Piece-by-piece, he dropped his clothes on her sofa and his boots on her floor. Her calm face didn’t give away a thing as she watched him. The counselor was in the room.

“I didn’t realize your proof included a free show.”

Nothing in this life was free, but he imagined she’d learned that years ago. When he stood there naked, he shifted. Bones cracked as his body reformed, fur rolling over his skin. The wolf saw in black and white. The place smelled faintly of lemon furniture polish and long-gone Lean Cuisine. Biolage shampoo and the sweet, musky scent of Gianna herself.