Читать книгу Awakened By The Wolf - Kristal Hollis - Страница 14

Chapter 8

“I am not sleeping with you.” Pillow and comforter in hand, Cassie attempted to navigate the formidable obstacle blocking the door.

Although they were both adults, as Brice readily pointed out, sharing the bed was an unreasonable demand. Hadn’t she done enough for him already?

“This isn’t a negotiation.” From the strong set of Brice’s jaw, she could tell he meant it.

“Glad you agree. Now move.”

Brice waved toward the mattress. “This is a perfectly good bed.”

“And you’re the one sleeping in it, unless you changed your mind about your grandmother’s room.” Cassie hugged her bedding to her chest.

“A Wahya male doesn’t sleep in a female relative’s bed. It’s just wrong.”

“Well, I’m not sleeping in Margaret’s room, either.” Heaven forbid if something went missing. People would blame Cassie even if Margaret didn’t.

“Then it’s settled.” Brice’s hard expression softened.

Cassie stood tall. Well, as tall as her five-foot-two figure could against a mountain. “I’ll take the couch.”

“You aren’t sleeping anywhere except next to me.” Brice snatched the pillow and comforter from her clutches. “Got it?”

“If I had known that you were so bossy, I would’ve run faster.” She grabbed the bedding he’d confiscated. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Cassidy Albright, get your ass in that bed before I pick you up and drop you in it.” Brice delivered a growl so low and menacing that chills bungeed down Cassie’s spine.

She jumped into bed. “You’ve had your shots, right? Distemper, parvo.” She paused to fluff her pillow and straighten the comforter over the sheet. “Rabies?”

Brice snickered. He probably thought she was kidding.

The lights went out. Followed by a rustle of clothes. A second later, the mattress moved beneath his weight.

“Stay on your side of the bed.” Turning her back to him, Cassie scooted toward the edge of the mattress. She tucked her hand beneath her pillow and tried to ignore the jitters of sleeping next to a man—a naked man, at that—for the first time. “And don’t hog the covers. I hate waking up cold.”

Brice shoved his side of the comforter at her.

She tensed, waiting for him to move closer to sniff her. He lay so still, so quiet, Cassie decided he’d fallen asleep until she heard the soft catch in his breathing.

“What’s wrong?”

“My leg hurts,” he snapped, and then groaned. “It’s nothing. Go to sleep.”

She reached to turn on the nightstand lamp and remembered that she had smashed it on the floor.

“Where are you going?” The brush of Brice’s fingers down her back caused an electric current to course through her body. Cassie wished she wouldn’t react to him the way she did. She prided herself on keeping her emotions in check, particularly around men.

Then again, Brice was a different breed altogether.

“Don’t worry. I’m not running away.” She flipped on the overhead light.

Brice’s right leg stuck out from beneath the sheet. The calf had swollen to almost twice the normal size, the skin a reddish-purple, the scar almost black. He crooked an arm over his eyes.

“How did it get this bad?” she shrieked.

“Well, let’s see.” He ticked the count on his fingers as he recapped the night’s adventures. “Now that I think about it, the last half hour standing and debating you is what did me in.” The acerbic bite in his voice bounced off Cassie’s thick skin.

“Don’t blame me for your pigheadedness. If you had let me sleep in the living room, you’d be fast asleep by now.”

“I doubt it.” He moved his arm away from his face. Pain, sadness and a certain wistfulness that Cassie recognized as loneliness churned in his gaze.

Alienated from his family and his pack, and worried about his grandmother, Brice sought companionship. That’s why he’d forced her to go to the hospital. Why he insisted they share a bed. He didn’t want to be alone.

Cassie empathized, though sleeping together was going a bit overboard.

“Come back to bed.” Brice started to get up. “I’ll watch TV in the living room.”

“Stay put.” She used a pillow to elevate his leg. “I’ll get some aspirin.”

“I took some before we went to the hospital. They didn’t help.”

“I’ll fix you something,” she said, leaving the room.

“Nothing ever works,” he moaned.

Cassie grabbed three clean bath towels and headed to the kitchen. Heating a large stockpot of water until it boiled, she added a healthy dose of dried rosemary, then turned off the burner. Next she swirled a towel in the hot water, placed a lid on the pot and left it to steep.

Brice opened one eye when she lifted his leg to place one of the two remaining clean towels over the pillow. She poured a little olive oil into her hands and drizzled some over his leg.

“Closet cannibal or kinky fetishist?” The lackluster gleam in his eyes muted his cocky grin.

“This might hurt at first, but you’ll feel better when I’m done.” At least, she hoped he would. She could almost feel his agony throbbing in her own body as she kneaded the muscles above his knee.

“Ooh, S and M.” Brice’s fingers touched his lips. “Miss Albright, I’m shocked.”

Cassie was, too, as heat flooded her body. Ignoring his tease would’ve been easier if Brice wasn’t flat on his back with a thin sheet accentuating every angle and line of his naked body. Her attention gravitated to the tent over his groin, and just that quickly, her common sense evaporated, leaving her defenseless and vulnerable.

She need to proceed carefully. Brice Walker had the power to turn her stupid. To make her want things she couldn’t have. Things that would wreck her life if she stopped to pursue them.

His keen, smoldering gaze caressed her face and feathered down her chest to cup her breasts. If she hadn’t seen his hands—one stashed behind his head, the other draped across his stomach—she would’ve sworn on her mother’s urn that his fingers pinched her nipples. Exquisitely sensitive, the tight buds stung from straining against her shirt.

His charged gaze continued its downward journey and settled at the juncture between her legs. Cassie wore a T-shirt and jersey shorts, so he couldn’t see anything. Still, a wicked smile shaped his mouth, and she knew he was picturing her naked.

He’d be disappointed. She wasn’t generously endowed or overly curvy. Her breasts were small and slightly flared hips gave her a feminine silhouette, but she’d never be the willowy ingenue men seemed to crave. She was simply too short, too pale, and her tangled mop of red hair had earned her the nickname Raggedy Cassie in kindergarten. She doubted grown men thought any differently. After all, didn’t they all prefer blondes?

Brice’s eyes lifted to the spiral curls that had fallen over her shoulder. His gaze slid leisurely along the strands and landed back on her crotch. His brow lowered a little in a contemplative stare.

If she were a betting woman, she’d wager that Brice wondered if the carpet matched the curtains.

It did, to the exact shade, and Cassie pondered if he also speculated if the carpet was silky or coarse. Not that it mattered. Just because she saw his didn’t mean she’d show him hers.

Because if she did, she’d want him to do more than look. For starters, if he stroked her nub with the thumb he’d brushed across her cheek...well, she wasn’t quite sure what it might do to her, but thinking about it caused heat to flash in her core and dangerous thoughts to cross her mind.

A naked man lay in her bed. A man she was inexplicably attracted to, against all reason. She would be a fool to fling herself at her employers’ son and her landlady’s grandson. She would be out of her mind to have sex with a man who wasn’t human.

Somehow, that last part wasn’t the deterrent it should’ve been.

She didn’t know much about wolves, but if they were anything like dogs, the males would jump any female in heat in order to impregnate her.

Cassie wanted to avoid that scenario at all costs. She wasn’t on birth control because, frankly, she had no intention of having sexual relations with a man for a long time. She had goals to meet and dreams to achieve before she could give herself to a man.

Celibacy had been a no-brainer choice until he showed up, naked!

And touched her, and held her, and inspired all sorts of wicked ideas about things she shouldn’t think about but her body now insisted on investigating.

“Damn. That feels good.” Brice’s voice yanked Cassie out of her reverie. His eyes closed in near-sleep, his body relaxed. Hers, however, had become a frazzle of nerves and need. Evidenced by damp panties and the urge to crawl up Brice’s body and hump him to oblivion.

She scowled at him. After all, her predicament was all his fault.

She waited until her irritation and horniness mellowed before working her fingers over his knee and down his swollen calf.

Brice yanked his leg from her hands. “Goddamn, that hurts!”

“The massage will increase circulation and reduce the swelling,” Cassie said. “Trust me. You will feel much better when I’m done.”

“How do you know?” Brice propped on his elbow, his mouth scrunched in a suspicious grimace.

“It always helped my mom.” Cassie coaxed his leg back onto the towel-covered pillow. Starting again, she rubbed slow, methodical circles over his rock-solid muscles. Of their own accord, her eyes followed the line of his thighs beneath the sheets, the swirls of dark hair and scars across his rippled abs and taut chest, the square cut of his chin, the fullness of his masculine lips, the perfectly proportioned nose, and once again locked onto the heart-stopping intensity of his breathtaking eyes.

A rebellious thrill zipped through her body. She saw his mouth move. Unfortunately, the “weeeeeee” ringing in her head drowned out his words. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

An understated smile wavered on his lips. “What happened to your mother?”

“Oh.” Just what Cassie needed—a reality check to keep her curly red head squarely on her sensible shoulders. “She died four years ago from end-stage liver disease.”

“It must have been difficult,” Brice said softly.

“I managed.” Caring for an alcoholic parent for most of her young life had been the difficult part. Imogene’s death had broken Cassie’s heart. It also came as a relief, because it gave Cassie a chance at a new life.

“If I had known you then, I would’ve helped. If you need anything now, let me know.”

Cassie found his sincerity disturbing. “Thanks, but I can take care of myself. I always have.”

Soon Brice’s calf muscles relaxed beneath her practiced fingers, and she worked her way down to the sole of his foot, which garnered a contented sigh from him. “Don’t move,” she told him. “I’m not finished.”

In the kitchen, Cassie soaped her hands, wishing the hot water could wash away the ridiculous tingle that coursed through her whenever she met Brice’s gaze. She wanted to put duct tape over his stellar smile.

She fanned herself to ward off the shameless desire to learn what being a woman meant. After all, there was a naked man in her bed.

Oh, no. Not going there.

She could barely handle a fantasy. The real thing just might end her.

“Cas? Is everything okay in there?”

Only if spontaneous combustion was a normal reaction to his presence.

“Uh, yeah! I’ll be there in a minute.” She splashed cold water on her face. I am not my hormones!

She toted the rosemary-infused towel into the bedroom. Every move Cassie made wrapping his leg, Brice’s sizzling gaze followed. Climbing into the freezer suddenly seemed a logical thing to do.

“Thanks, Cas.” The huskiness in his voice electrified nerves in parts of her body that only he had managed to activate. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome.” She didn’t dare look at him. His smile might be devastating, but his eyes could outright slay her.

* * *

A wet heat worked its way through Brice’s leg muscles and seeped into the bones. With Cassie’s scent to soothe him and the pain in his leg melting away, maybe he’d finally succumb to a decent night’s rest.

She tucked a dry towel over the hot, damp one around his calf. Her hands stilled, except for her thumbs worrying the edge of the pillow propped beneath his leg. Her eyes lifted to his face. “I should take the couch. I don’t want to bump you during the night.”

“Fine,” he answered, challenging her with his gaze.

She rolled her bottom lip between two front teeth spaced a tiny bit farther apart than the others. He counted on that little bit of uncertainty to accomplish what he wanted. Her in bed, next to him.

“Oh, all right.” The lights went out, and Cassie eased beneath the covers.

God, he could hardly resist touching her. Stripping her bare. Inhaling every inch of her skin. Burying his face between her thighs to imprint not only her scent in his nose but also her taste on his tongue.

He’d noticed how hot and bothered she became while massaging his leg. He’d almost yanked the sheet off himself so she could stalk up the mattress to ride him hard, fast and into tomorrow.

He didn’t because of the conflicting emotions that marred her pretty little face. She probably thought boinking her employers’ son would get her in trouble.

Likely it would, but not for the reason she suspected.

Her scent captivated him, and her spunk titillated him on a different level than any other female ever had. Every wolfan instinct buzzed with inherently misguided expectation. Until Brice gained better control, he couldn’t risk coupling with Cassie, or he might make the mistake of claiming her and ruin the rest of their lives.

The dire consequence wasn’t enough to curb his desire, but he respectfully appreciated the challenge.

“Remember. Stay on your side of the bed, and no hogging the covers.” Cassie tucked her shabby comforter beneath his chin.

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted.

“Smart-ass.”

Brice smothered a laugh. He enjoyed teasing Cassie as much as he enjoyed her company. And it had been a long time since he’d enjoyed anything.

Within minutes, Cassie’s soft, rhythmic breathing signaled a peaceful sleep. Brice touched a ringlet of her hair, winding the silky strands around his finger.

Mine.

The word droned with each beat of his heart. To which Brice’s mind replied with an emphatic “No.”

He dropped the curl and tucked his hands beneath his head. Each breath he took reeled her scent deeper into his lungs. His body hardened with desire and the effort to resist it.

As a distraction, Brice focused on counting. Somewhere around eight hundred, sleep dulled his lust. Until Cassie scooted next to him. He’d never fall back to sleep with the curve of her ass burrowed into him.

Ignoring the prudence of sleeping on the couch, Brice turned on his side. He spooned against her, his arm draped naturally across her hip. When her small hand cradled his, Brice slipped into blissful oblivion.

* * *

Pain exploded across Brice’s face. He sat up, howling obscenities.

Cassie jumped out of bed and turned on the light.

Brice cupped his nose. “Why the hell did you hit me?”

“My head bopped your face when I jerked awake because you were squeezing my, my—never mind.” The flush in Cassie’s skin deepened. “It was an accident. I’m really sorry.”

“You broke my nose.” The throb was almost as bad as the pain in his leg last night.

“You should’ve stayed on your side of the bed.” The worry etched on her face diffused his temper. Her brave but timid steps toward him ignited something more dangerous.

“It’s my bed. Both sides are mine.”

Slowly her hands cradled his face, and she tilted back his head. Her lips parted slightly, and Brice no longer registered pain, because every cell in his body primed him for a kiss.

His muscles coiled like tightly wound springs. He dug his fingers into the mattress, fighting what he’d never wanted so badly in all his life.

“No blood, no swelling. Nothing crooked. I don’t think it’s broken.” The strain eased from her face.

“Are you sure? A wolfan’s nose is very sensitive. What if I can’t smell you anymore?” The waver in his voice was instinctual, intending to draw her closer when he should have pushed her away.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” But she wasn’t sure at all, because she bit her lip and skimmed her thumbs down the sides of his nose, sending shock waves throughout his body.

“You should kiss it to make me feel better.” What the hell was wrong with him? He should have put distance between them instead of enticing her to continue.

Cassie’s contemplative gaze searched his face. Brice’s heart beat an erratic rhythm, and his lungs grabbed short, quick breaths.

God, if she actually kissed him, he’d lose all control.

“You big faker.” Cassie shoved him.

Relieved, Brice caught her around the waist and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He needed her scent as consolation to temper his arousal.

“I have to get dressed,” she finally said.

“Call in.” He tried to tug her back into bed with a promise to himself to behave if she’d stay.

“I’m not sick.” Bracing her knees against the mattress for leverage, she pulled free.

“I will be if you leave.” The thought of hours bereft of her scent and her company churned his stomach.

“Maybe you should call a doctor.” Cassie hesitated. “Or do you have vets?”

“The pack physician,” he ground out, “is Doc Habersham, my dad’s best friend. I can’t call him or anyone else. I won’t risk getting thrown out of the territory before Granny comes home.”

“Figure something out. I’m not missing work.” Cassie pulled one of her uniforms from the closet. As far as Brice could tell, those were the only clothes she had unpacked.

He flopped onto the mattress. “Come see me on your break.”

“I won’t have time. I have to reschedule my car service because you ate my pie.”

Brice’s tongue swept his lips. “What does one have to do with the other?”

“It’s a barter with Rafe. He changes the oil in the clunker in exchange for a fresh-baked pie.”

“I can’t blame him. Granny’s pies are delicious.”

“Your grandmother doesn’t bake.” Cassie bent over to pick up her shoes, and the bottom of her shorts rode up her legs to give him a glimpse of her panties.

He swallowed a groan. “Granny made pies for me every time I came home from college.”

Shaking her head, Cassie turned toward him, a corner of her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“You made them?” Brice rose on his elbows. “For me?”

“Like I said—” Cassie avoided his gaze “—your grandmother doesn’t bake.”

“Damn, Sunshine. Your pies are the best.” One more reason he should have detached himself from Cassie. Sex and food were a wolfan male’s catnip.

“Thanks. I use my mother’s recipes.” Cassie’s eyes misted. She flinched and hurried toward the bedroom door.

“I’m not sorry I ate the pie, but I’ll pay for the oil change and anything else you need.” It would be easy enough to transfer money from one of his accounts to hers.

She stopped, a disquiet fierceness in her eyes. “I don’t want your money. I may not have much, but what I do have, I’ve earned.”

She walked out, her spine and shoulders stiff.

Well, he’d unintentionally struck a nerve.

Brice sank into the mattress. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but if he followed her down the hallway to apologize, he’d only complicate his situation. No matter what his errant instinct demanded, he couldn’t involve himself in Cassie’s life.

No matter how damn good she smelled.