Читать книгу Broken - Rebecca Zanetti - Страница 18

Chapter Ten

Dana finished typing more notes, sitting at Wolfe’s kitchen table and purposely ignoring the email from her cousin about the wedding. Why did the bridesmaids have to be ready for pictures five hours before the wedding? She looked, once again, toward the closed door of Wolfe’s office. He’d disappeared inside hours ago, obviously needing some time by himself, but darkness was beginning to fall, and she was hungry for dinner.

Should she just rummage in the fridge? After being ignored all day, searching through Wolfe’s stuff held little appeal.

He’d almost been shot—again. She’d been kidnapped, cut, and then right when life had started to normalize, she’d been shot at and chased by guys in a truck who’d wanted to hurt her. Life was too short to wait on the sidelines. She was done waiting.

Enough of this. Shutting her laptop, she stood and stretched her back, gathering her courage. Then she walked past the sofa. Kat looked up, blinked his eyes, and meowed softly as if in warning.

She frowned. That was odd. “I’m talking to him,” she said to the cat, feeling only a little silly as she moved forward and reached the office door. Her knock was more forceful than she’d intended, and she winced.

Nothing.

She pressed her ear to the door.

No sound.

Huh. Had Wolfe somehow left when she had been in the bathroom earlier? She twisted the knob and stepped inside, her steps faltering on the soft carpet.

Wolfe sat with his back to her, facing the whiteboard, his gaze seemingly directed at the photograph of the smiling young soldiers. His shoulders were rigid and his body unmoving. Tension cloaked him, erecting an invisible barrier that electrified the air around him.

Her mouth opened and closed. A chill slid down her back, and she hunched a little, her instincts blaring for her to run.

How long had he sat in that position? All day?

That couldn’t be healthy. She swallowed over a lump in her throat and edged closer to him, reaching out with one shaking hand.

“Don’t.” His gravelly voice was a stark warning.

She paused and her lip trembled. Her lungs filled with something other than air, something akin to panic, and she breathed shallowly. Too shallowly.

“Go, Dana.” His stillness was nearly preternatural.

She should go. Run and leave him to this . . . whatever this was. But she couldn’t. Why, she’d figure out later. “Clarence.” Fighting every biological survival instinct stamped into her DNA, she reached out and set a hand on his rigid shoulder.

When he didn’t jump and bite off her arm, she settled closer, everything inside her wanting to comfort him. A hint of the wild emanated from him—primitive and dangerous. There was no doubt Wolfe was as dangerous as a man got, but he was hurting, and she’d never been able to turn away from an animal in pain.

Especially this one.

Her other hand settled on his other shoulder, and she bit back a grimace at the hard knots against her palms. His head had to be killing him. If there were words for her to offer, she couldn’t think of them. Instead, she began to knead the roped muscles beneath her palms, digging deep with her thumbs, finally giving herself permission to touch him.

She worked some of the tension out of his neck, her own body aching in response. He held perfectly still, his hands on his jean-clad legs, the arm bandage stark against his tanned skin. For one fraction of a second, his shoulders relaxed. “What are you doing?” he rumbled.

“Providing comfort.”

He stiffened again and, without warning, planted a hand over hers, drawing her in front of him.

She reluctantly released his shoulders and stood between his legs, looking into his hard face, feeling unbalanced and warm. Intimacy surrounded them. “Wolfe?”

“I don’t want comfort.” He tipped his head back, his eyes a tumultuous brown.

She’d never seen anybody more in need of comfort than Clarence Wolfe. “Why not? Everyone needs comfort.”

“Don’t want it and don’t need it,” he said, the sides of his thighs bracketing hers, giving her a feeling of being trapped. The look on his face and the tone of his voice were all the more frightening for the lack of feeling in them.

She couldn’t reach him. This was something new, something scary, and she didn’t know what to do. So she grasped the sides of his shoulders and leaned in to press a kiss to his nose, just like her dad had always done for her when she’d felt lost.

Wolfe sucked in a breath, his eyes narrowing and finally focusing on her. He was back. Temptation lurked there and something darker . . . something deeper. A glint—raw and male—zeroing in on just her. All of her.

Words died in her throat. She couldn’t move, held in place by that look and his hard body.

His gaze dropped to her breasts.

Honest to God, they started to tingle. She still couldn’t breathe, and her adrenaline was flowing as if she’d run ten miles being chased by a grizzly bear.

His hands, rough and calloused, warm and firm, slid up her arms.

This was wrong. Not fair. He’d been in a bad place, he’d been vulnerable, and she would be taking advantage if she let this go where it was headed. Well, where she kind of hoped it was headed. She couldn’t do that to him. So she started to step back.

And was shocked when his thighs clamped against hers, easily holding her in place. His hands slid to her wrists and tugged her down, flattening her palms on his incredibly hard legs, partially bending her toward him. “Wh-what are you doing?” she whispered.

For answer, his gaze lifted to her lips and then her eyes. His hands flattened over hers and slid them up his thighs. “You are not listening to me, Dana.”

“I think you’re wrong,” she said quietly, keeping her balance while she bent toward him. “You do need comfort, and sitting here all day staring at these pictures is not good for you. I might not be a shrink, but even I know that much about the demons that haunt people.”

“You have no idea.”

“Oh yeah?” There was no denying the attraction she felt toward him, and she was tired of trying. She leaned closer, gratified by the way his eyelids lowered to hide his surprise. Oh, she could read him, whether he liked it or not. “I’m tired of the friend zone, Wolfe. I’m breaking the caution tape.” As she said the words, they felt right. Finally.

His shoulder jerked. “Excuse me?”

“I want you.” There was no reason to lie, considering she was having trouble breathing and her hardened nipples were clearly outlined beneath her shirt.

The hardness of his face contrasted with the hot liquid glide of lust that darkened his deep eyes. “I’m not just trying to keep you safe. Some of it, maybe most of it, is that I can’t be distracted from what I have to do and who I have to be to take Rock on. I’m all in on this fight, and there can’t be anything else in my life right now. Anybody else.”

Honesty was sometimes a pain in the butt. “So I’m a distraction?” The idea warmed her even more.

“Hell, yes.” Frustration coated his words.

Good enough. She leaned even closer, until her nose almost touched his. “I don’t want forever, and I don’t want a white picket fence.” Not right now, anyway. “I want you, and you want me, and the way we’re going, one of us will probably be shot within the week. So, why not?”

“Not a good idea.” His nostrils flared and he almost vibrated with tension. “You wanting to provide comfort with your body.”

Was that judgment in his tone? “No. I want an orgasm,” she snapped. Now she was both turned on and pissed off. “Unless you’re incapable of providing one.”

His eyelids lifted, his gaze glittering.

Oh. Oops. Well. She should say something, but all sound died in her throat. Her lungs froze, much smarter than her brain. Challenging Wolfe was a mistake she’d never made. Until now.

“You want to take that back?” he rumbled, one eyebrow lifting.

The memory of how quickly he’d picked her up and headed for that bar the other night sent heated air into her lungs. “No.” Her voice wavered, but her gaze remained on his. “If you’re not up to it, just let me know.”

Yep. She had completely lost her mind.

“You think I’m that easy to manipulate?” His voice remained steady, but the tension rolling from him choked the space between them.

“I think you’re as tired as I am of fighting this, whatever it is, that’s between us.” Her hands were still on his legs and she dug in with her nails. “Come on, Wolfe. You know you want it.” She let her voice lower to a croon. While she’d never been a temptress, she was enjoying this. If one of them didn’t make a move, they’d both go to bed alone, sleepless, and unsatisfied. “We should enjoy life while we have it.” Unfortunately, a true statement.

“Nothing is going to happen to you.” He growled the words, his hands lifting to her hips, heated and firm. His fingers flexed, hinting at restrained strength. Ruthlessly controlled power. “I’ve been as honest as I can be. I can’t promise you a damn thing, but I’m done pushing you away. You sure about this?”

Anticipation licked through her as if she were at the start of a race, right before the bell rang and the gate swung open to free the horses. “I’m sure.”

He stood and lifted her at the same time, tossing her over his shoulder. She landed with a muffled oof, laughing and trying to shove her hair out of her face. This side of Wolfe was new, and her body felt electrified, the shoulder beneath her stomach solid rock.

She might have taken on more than she could handle.

He strode into the kitchen, reached for the whipped-cream can still on the table, tossed it in the air, caught it, and headed toward his bedroom, his steps even and sure, his strides long and purposeful.

“Whipped cream?” she gasped, the blood rushing to her face as she turned her head to the side to breathe, her cheek resting against his broad back.

“We’re gonna make a sweet memory,” he murmured, reaching the bedroom and kicking the door closed with the back of one foot. It slammed shut, the sound amplified by her too-aware body and mind. He flipped her over, then stood, towering over her with heat and strength, his gaze hungry and a mite intimidating. “Take off your shirt.”

There was only one possible answer. “No.”

His slow smile awoke every girly part she had. “We’re doin’ this my way, green eyes.”

She bit her lip, contemplating his rock-solid body. “Who says?”

“Well?” He shook the whipped cream can. “Is this going to end up with me inside you, probably covered in sugar, making you scream my name?”

“Hopefully,” she croaked, her knees wobbling. Had she ever been this aroused?

“Then it’s my way.” His smile widened, giving him a boyish look she’d never seen on him before. Her heart just flipped right over and submitted. He finished shaking the can. “Now. This is going on you. That’s a pretty shirt, and I’d hate to get it messy. You have two seconds to take it off.”

Humor bubbled through her arousal, torturing her. “Fine.” But she wasn’t going to make it easy on him. Keeping his gaze, she slowly, very slowly, released each button, her breath catching as his smile disappeared and he looked even hungrier. “You look like a wolf about to eat,” she whispered, dropping the shirt and revealing her white lacy bra.

“I am a wolf about to eat.” He ran a knuckle along the tops of her breasts, his breath catching, his gaze heating even more. A smooth flick of his fingers released the front clasp, and the bra, too, dropped out of existence. Then he sprayed her, over her breasts, causing flecks of whipped cream to pepper her face.

She laughed, protesting. “Wolfe—”

His head dropped, and his mouth found her breast. Heat surrounded her, and he sucked. She gasped, her hands instinctively clutching his shoulders so she didn’t fall. It figured Wolfe would go all in with no hesitation. He licked the other breast with a happy hum and then lifted up, his mouth taking hers.

Wolfe didn’t kiss—he consumed. A sharp nip to her lip made her gasp, and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping in, tasting like whipped cream and spice. The demanding thrust of his tongue was accompanied by both hands on her breasts, the whipped cream letting him slide tantalizingly over her skin with a hint of bite.

She moaned and yanked on his shirt so he’d duck his head and let her toss it free. A sigh escaped her, into his mouth, when she finally settled her hands on that solid torso. Frantically, she caressed each bullet hole, knife wound, and ripped muscle.

He overwhelmed her, and she grasped his jeans, unzipping them.

Releasing her mouth, he ran his slippery palms down her arms and then gracefully dropped to his knees.

She protested, her hands now over his shoulders.

“Dana.” One word from him had her growing still. His hands were sure and gentle as he tugged down her yoga pants and panties, cool air brushing her skin.

He froze.

She blinked. Oh, crap. She’d forgotten. Caught up in his seduction, she’d completely forgotten the marks still on her upper thighs from the crazy senator and his sharp knife.

Wolfe jerked as if he’d been punched in the gut. Gingerly, he reached out and rubbed a gentle finger along one of the many still healing cuts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She tried to concentrate. “I didn’t want you to kill him.” It was the truth. “You saved me before he could do any more damage.”

“I would’ve killed him.” Wolfe glanced up, looking dangerous and big, even on his knees.

Yeah, she knew.

“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward and kissed each mark with a gentleness that nearly undid her. “These will heal. And I’ll make you forget.” The whipped cream suddenly sprayed across her lower part, and his mouth found her right where she ached for him.

“Jesus, Wolfe.” Fire lanced through her, and her thighs trembled. She grasped his shoulders, trying for balance.

Laughing against her core, he grasped her hips and tossed her on the bed, his mouth working her the entire time, his tongue lashing her clit as if he couldn’t get enough. It was too much. She gasped, trying for control, while sparks uncoiled inside her faster than she could track.

An orgasm took her, spiraling from nowhere, shaking through her. She closed her eyes and rode the waves, shocked at the height of them. When she was finished, he stood up. There was whipped cream in his hair from her hands.

“That was so fast,” she gasped.

His eyebrows rose. “Want another one?” He moved to bend down.

“No.” She held up a hand. “I want you. All of you.”

His eyes darkened, and he shoved his jeans off, freeing himself.

She grinned, her body on fire for him. “Glad to see you’re in proportion.” Truth be told, the guy was huge.

“Smart-ass.” He leaned over and drew a condom out of the bedside table.

She sat up, reaching for him.

“Later. Want to be inside you now.” He quickly rolled it on and moved her up the bed, covering her.

This was too good to be true. She explored his chest, the whipped cream starting to dry and get sticky. “Your bed will be a mess.”

“Then let’s make it good.” Somehow, he found the can and sprayed more whipped cream across her chest.

She laughed, widening her legs; she hadn’t expected Wolfe to be fun, just mind-blowing.

He pressed against her, sliding the head of his cock through her wetness, and she stopped laughing. Even after her orgasm, she was tight, and her body tried to resist his size. Pleasure and pain caught her, and she panted, then held her breath.

His gaze kept hers, dark and intense, as he pushed inside her inch by inch, filling her until she wasn’t sure where she began and he ended.

Finally, he stopped, deep inside her. Fully taking her. This was more than fun and more than friendship, but she couldn’t land on the right feeling.

As if sensing her sudden vulnerability, he caressed her jawline. “Deep breaths, baby.”

She took a deep breath, and the craving inside her intensified, pleasure overtaking the pain.

“There we go.” Shadows deepened the strong hollows of his face, and his eyes blazed as darkness finished falling outside. He moved within her, and she bit her lip against a moan at the delicious friction.

He eased out and pushed back in, watching her closely. She dug her nails into the rigid muscles of his arms, his movements increasing in strength and speed and rocketing need through her body. The room smelled like whipped cream and male, and she held tighter, each thrust of his powerful body pressing him against her still engorged clit.

Pressure built, live wires uncoiled, and he hammered harder, his concentration almost intimidating. She had to shut her eyes and just let the colors take her away. Spasms of raw pleasure burst from her core, spreading throughout her body, making her toes curl. She whispered his name, overtaken, shocked by the intensity.

He kept powering into her, faster and even harder, and then came with a husky groan. His head dropped to her nape, and his chest panted.

Whoa. She tried to breathe normally, overwhelmed. This wasn’t just sex.

He lifted his head and slowly licked whipped cream from her collarbone to her ear. His voice was a pleased rumble. “You’re all sticky. Let’s take this to the shower.”

She blinked. “We’re not done?”

“Not even close.”