Growl (11 page)

“Only a few nights? I take it I am forgiven for introducing you to Megan.”

“I forgive you nothing, but I am willing to forgo the exhilaration of seeing your ass in an electric chair out of deference to the fact you're related to Megan.”

“You would show me mercy because of Megan? How interesting,” Fabian mused aloud.

Megan frowned. What did her cousin mean? Before she could speculate, Gavin dragged her from the room. Only because she allowed it, though.

Now that she didn't need to hide who she was, she could have broken his hold—or his wrist. Daddy made sure his little girl wasn't defenseless. Besides, Gavin was right. They did have some things to discuss in light of recent events and revelations.

They didn't go far, only to a small parlor with a pair of hidden sliding doors, which Gavin whisked shut as soon as he had her in the room.

He whirled on her. His presence—large, confident, and oozing primitive maleness—filled the room while his gaze drilled her. He advanced on her with the slow steps of a predator.

Despite her upbringing, she couldn't help mincing steps back. The cautious retreat of prey. A prey with a racing heart, heated blood, and tingling parts.

“So, little rabbit. It seems I've misjudged you. It's not often someone can say that.”

“My ability to blend is why I'm paid the big bucks.” Her wan joke didn't crack a smile.

“Speaking of big bucks. You could have afforded a lawyer but didn't hire one. Why?”

“And ruin my cover? Part of my defense was the whole benign-secretary thing. If I could keep it and have the charges dropped, then I wouldn't need to reinvent myself. I've heard new fingerprints are painful.”

“You didn't need me to take on your case for free.”

“Are you about to complain about me wasting your time? Would you feel better if I offered to pay you the going fee, discreetly, of course?”

He'd kept advancing as they spoke, and she couldn't help but retreat from him until her back hit the wall. Did she retreat from fear? Not quite, more like an excitement that had her heart racing and her body tingling.

He framed her body with an arm braced on either side of her head. “I don't need your money.”

“Because Fabian is paying for my defense of course.”

“No, he's not, and I would never take a penny from him.” Gavin invaded her space, not quite touching her but close enough for her to feel the heat of his body.

“If he's not paying you, and you don't need my money, then what do you want?”

“Other than the truth?” He rubbed his face against hers, a jaw shadowed in stubble against her smooth skin. Having been raised among wolves, literally, she knew what he did. He marked her with his scent.

That didn't bode well. “What if I promise you the truth from here on out? No more surprises.”

“I don't think we need to go that far. While I will expect forthrightness from you, as for surprises…” He blew warmly against the lobe of her ear. “Some surprises are delicious.” He nipped the tip, and she shuddered, arousal tensing the muscles of her sex.

“I'd have said ‘dangerous.'” Her voice emerged a touch more high-pitched than she wanted as she tried to distract herself from his mouth. “You do know I'm a trained killer.” An assassin who was thinking if she hooked her foot around his ankle and caught him off guard she could tip him onto the floor, straddle him, and do things on the plush carpet that would totally be more fun than this conversation.

“I like danger.” Wolf or not, he practically purred the words.

Jump him.
How she wanted to, but she knew what a bad idea that was now. Distraction was what she needed. “So what happens next, with my case, that is?”

Talking didn't stop his lips. On the contrary, the hot puff of air as he spoke so close to her skin was almost worse. “Larry will be charged. You go free, and we find the real culprit behind all these acts.” He dragged his lips down the column of her throat.

“Whoever it was initially didn't want me dead, or they would have killed me when they planted the stuff.”

“True, but they definitely wanted you punished. Which reminds me. I've been wanting to ask, how did such a savvy assassin get caught and framed in the first place?”

She babbled in an effort to fight his tantalizing mouth, which sucked the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. “I should probably begin by telling you my plan in regards to Pierre. Given I was almost done with the deed and asset transfers Fabian wanted, I concocted an office-robbery scenario. Business guy stays late because I create a bit of a panic with one of his distributors. He's alone. Unarmed. A junkie breaks in and shoots him, the junkie being me. First, though, I had to establish an alibi. On the day of the murder, I went home and got some Thai takeout on the way, making sure I kept a time-stamped receipt and that my credit card was used. I made sure the lobby camera for my building saw me coming in. Once I was at my place, my plan was to change into some concealing clothes and whip back out using the fire escape. A tenant, two floors down, who's in Florida for the week, leaves her bike chained by her window. I planned to borrow it and use it to get there and back, with no one the wiser.”

His suckling of her skin paused. “Except you never left your apartment that night.”

The lips resumed their roaming adventure. “I never even made it in the door. I'm assuming someone darted me with a heavy-duty sedative, because the last thing I remember is juggling my bag of food so I could unlock my door.”

She barely held in a disappointed sigh as his lips stopped again.

“So you really didn't kill him?”

“No.” The reminder helped put a damper on her burgeoning arousal. “Which is why I was so pissed the next day when the cops showed up and began pulling the supposed evidence from my apartment. I was framed.”

His blue gaze met hers, and a lilt curved his lips.

“This isn't funny,” she pouted.

“Yeah, it is, because I can't believe an assassin is complaining about getting framed for murder.”

“Hey, you would, too, if it happened to you. I mean, not only did I not get properly paid for that wasted month of working for my target, but I now have to clear my name and find the real culprit.”

“Your name will be clear by the end of the day.”

“But whoever started this war against me is still out there.” Only for as long as it took her to find them. Once she did—

Gavin's lips moved upward, hovering over her mouth, taunting her with their closeness. “I take it asking if you have enemies is a moot point.”

“Are you implying I'm not well liked?” She batted not-so-innocent lashes at him.

“I'd say that anyone who likes you too much is asking for trouble.”

“A good thing you discovered this sooner than later then,” she replied, somewhat miffed.

Sure, she'd not exactly expected their one night of passion to change things between them. Hell, she'd been the most vocal about not indulging, but it rankled knowing that her profession and true self were too much for Gavin to handle. It seemed she'd grown to like Gavin, despite their short acquaintance—and the fact that he turned furry.

Well, at least I know where we stand now.
Not that things would have gotten much further. Once her family found out about him, it wasn't just her daddy who might have an issue with her taking up with an unknown wolf—and a lawyer at that.

“Yes, it is a good thing I know what a troublemaker you are. I'll have to call my security company and have them increase their service if I'm going to keep you safe.”

“Excuse me?”

He leaned in close, forehead leaning against hers, his lips but a hairsbreadth from hers. Intimate, close, heart-stopping. “Oh, you didn't think something like you being an assassin would chase me away, did you? I am a wolf, little rabbit. I thrive on danger. And now that we're both unmasked, we don't have to hide who and what we are anymore.”

“I'm not looking for a relationship.”

“I wasn't asking. I'm stating that, like it or not, we're a couple.”

The feminist in her bristled at his domineering statement. The woman in her melted and then puddled as his lips tugged at hers, a slow, languorous embrace that had her breath stuttering.

If only they had the time.
No, what am I thinking? Bad idea.
She'd grown up with wolves, and she knew better than to get involved with one. “Aren't you supposed to go to see the cops?”

“I will, in a minute. First, I think we need to take care of more pressing business.” His business pressed against her lower belly.

Again, so tempting, but Megan wasn't some doe-eyed idiot who thought having sex in her cousin's house, with him just up the hall, probably on the phone to her dad, and with a contract on her head sending every Tom, Dick, and Hairy—as in furry shifter—coming after her was a good idea.

She ducked down and slid sideways out of Gavin's intimate grasp. Only the sparring she'd done growing up gave her the dexterity needed to evade his lunging hand.
Oops. Nope.
He caught her, moving fast, like only a Lycan could.

Or did she allow him to catch her?

“I wasn't done with you.” Such heated promise in those words, and damn if she didn't melt as he, once again, dragged her into his embrace and plastered his lips over hers.

Megan wanted to blame her racing pulse on her indignation at how he manhandled her without permission. Perhaps a fever was to blame for the heat coursing through her frame. But what excuse did she have for the arousal moistening her sex? The tingling anticipation prickling her skin?

She said screw it to the little voice that told her she should run from the wolf. She pressed herself against him, clutched at his muscled biceps, and let herself enjoy the kiss.

What a kiss. His hard mouth claimed hers with a fervor she'd never experienced before. This. This hard, hot, breathless embrace was passion, not the tepid acts of her past with boys.

Gavin was a man. All musk, power, and intent.

He didn't waste time coaxing her lips apart. He demanded they open. He took over and went on a quest for her tongue that he might twine with it and draw soft cries of pleasure from her.

While her knees might buckle, he didn't let her fall. He braced her with his body and the wall, pinned her with his solid frame, and rubbed.

Oh God.
He rubbed, the hardness of him pressing against her core. She throbbed between her legs. She needed more than just rubbing.

She made a noise, an incoherent one, but he deciphered it, and next thing she knew, her pants were around her ankles and he nudged her legs apart. He inserted his thigh, and she ground against his muscled leg. Her breath caught at the sweet friction this created on her delicate sex. Her clitoris pulsed with each pass.

Her fingers dug into his biceps, the cruel fabric of his jacket keeping her from his skin. So she went after the flesh she did have access to, nipping his jawline and hearing him finally groan.

“Megan.” Her name emerged on a husky note. The sound of a zipper lowering had her shivering as anticipation hummed through her.

The head of his shaft rubbed across her lower lips, and she gasped at the heated steel length of his cock. So erect, and ready for her.

So big. For her.

She couldn't help a long, slow moan as he penetrated her, the length of him sliding into her moist heat, inch by slow inch. Tighter, she clawed at him, arching her pelvis forward.

“Impatient, little rabbit,” he chided. He stopped all movement, and she could have screamed. Especially when he used the gap still between their bodies to place his hand. More like his fingers, which delicately rubbed her clit.

Oh my.
With him partially inserted, along with the decadent pleasure of his stroke, she quivered and cried out, hips rocking in an attempt to drive him deeper.

She only partially succeeded, as he refused to let her take what she wanted. He was very much in control, only allowing himself partial entry into her sex.

His finger worked her fast and she made a frustrated cry as her body tensed. Everything within her coiled as the pleasure built. And built.

When he did finally slam the rest of the way in, she yelled and pretty much came. Minor quivers rocked her channel as he stroked, in and out. Each thick thrust hit deep within, deep enough that a second round of bliss built and throbbed.

Both his hands now gripped her, cupping her ass cheeks so he could hoist her to the proper height. Deeply seated within her, he thrust, each smooth strike hitting her sweet spot making a mockery of her first miniorgasm as he rolled her into a proper second one.

A mind-blowing, mind-blanking, body-shuddering climax.

Still coming down from her high, she felt him come, the heat of him bathing her womb. He went still, buried to the hilt, hands cupping her, body pressed tight, his head lowered so, once again, their foreheads touched and their ragged breaths merged.

It was an oddly emotional moment, and yet nothing was said. She wasn't sure either of them had the mental capacity or words in that moment.

Why ruin utter perfection?

Why unless you were a man, and he did it with just two words.

Softly said.

Intimate.

Possessive.

“My mate.”

“Excuse me?”

Wisely, he slipped away from her, a wolf in a lawyer's suit, calmly buttoning his pants and straightening his tie.

As for her? There she stood, more like slumped against the wall, with her pants in a puddle at her feet, hair sticking out all over, and eyeing him with dawning suspicion—and a touch of horror.

“I don't know how much you know about our kind,” he said as he wisely stayed out of reach.

“Enough.” She didn't elaborate on the how. She wasn't in the mood to share secrets, not when he'd just dropped an epic bombshell.