Gator

We pick up Poppy’s missing equipment without a problem, but then our luck runs out. The skies open up. Rain lashes the boat, rocking it from side to side, and visibility’s suddenly shit between the dark and the water. We need to wait this out, not try to power through it, so I ease us into a tiny outlet. Mooring the boat beneath a stand of cypress seems like our safest option.

“Get underneath,” I shout to Poppy, gesturing toward the covered portion of the deck. She ignores me, or maybe she can’t hear me thanks to Mother Nature’s tantrum. Not that she seems to mind. She’s got her face tilted up to the sky, rainwater pouring off her face. She shoves her wet hair back, smiling like she’s never been happier. Me? I’ll never understand her, but I’m starting to think that’s okay. All I have to do is keep that smile on her face.

Eventually, she moves, ducking underneath the roof. The boat’s only half-covered, and water streams across the deck and washes underneath the edges of the plastic siding. Still, we’re relatively dry, and I’ve got a back up plan. I scoop Poppy up, holding her against me to keep her feet out of the incoming flood. The rain drums so hard that I almost miss what she says.

“I’m a mess. Sorry.” She reaches around to squeeze the water out of her hair.

I set her down on a bench and then fish a blanket out of the storage chest. I have a couple of extra flannel shirts, too. I strip her wet sneakers and socks off her feet, tossing them onto the opposite bench. Then I go to work on her sodden jeans. She squeaks and tenses, but she doesn’t say no and her getting sick on my watch isn’t happening.

“You’re always fixing me,” she says, so quietly that I almost don’t hear her. “Sorry.”

“I don’t want you sorry. I want you comfortable.” I peel the wet jeans down her legs and then go to work on her sweatshirt. The T-shirt underneath seems dry enough, so I leave it. “Some reason why I can’t fix the shit that I can?”

She murmurs something unintelligible. I run my fingers over the soft skin of her belly. She feels so gentle, so right. She’s exactly what I need right now. And what I need yesterday. Probably tomorrow too. I can’t imagine not making a place for Poppy in my life. And that makes me nervous because I can’t keep her with me, not if she wants to leave. She has to want me too.

Love me too.

Because I love her.

Sometimes there are moments in life when shit smacks you upside the head. Or kicks you in the heart. And it’s not that I don’t deserve the hit, but what the fuck am I supposed to do with feelings in the middle of a torrential downpour? I’ve got about ten square feet of space to work with when the woman in my arms deserves a castle, a white knight, and a diamond fucking tiara. The first time you tell your mate that you love her should be special, so I swallow the words.

I’ll show her instead.

Be the man who makes her happy.

“Gator?” She cups my face with her hand.

“Right here, babe.” She’s totally stuck with me now.

“Are you mad?”

I think about that for a second. “At your douche ex? Yeah. Frankly, he sounds like he walked around with his head up his ass. You deserve better than that.”

“Nathan and I were—” She burrows her face into my chest like it’s the fucking dictionary and she desperately needs to look up a word or six. All it does though is remind me that I’m standing here dripping water all over her. I’m failing already in the take-care department. Fucking need a do-over. I wrap her up in the blanket and set her down on the bench.

“You weren’t married, right?”

“Nope.” She pulls the edges of the blanket closer, her eyes moving over me in the semi-darkness. And because I’m just a fucking saint here, I give her something to look at by yanking my wet shirt over my head. If we’re gonna wait out this storm, she doesn’t need to be mashed up against wet cotton.

“But you were something.” I spread the shirt out on the second bench next to her jeans. There’s always a chance that shit dries out, although it’s a long shot.

“We lived together. I thought we were partners. He was the chair of my thesis committee and a professor at my university. We worked together a lot, and then one thing led to another, and then we were seeing each other.”

I nod. “So what changed?”

She shrugs. “I thought I had a boyfriend who cared about me. And if he wasn’t Mr. Right, I thought he could be my Mr. Right Now. But he was only interested in me because I’m pretty. Turns out, he didn’t actually want to talk to me or do things with me or make plans with me. He just wanted to fuck me, and he didn’t want the whole world to know it, either. I was his dirty little secret. So nothing changed. I just grew up and got smarter.”

I bend over to unlace my boots. The rain’s still driving hard against our boat, although it sounds less like a jack hammer trying to rip through the plastic and more like steady percussion.

“Being pretty’s not something I’ve had to worry about,” I admit. “But I’ve had some experience with secrets.”

“No secrets between us, okay? Promise me that,” she says.

Christ, that’s a promise I’d like to make—but I can’t. So I prevaricate.

“You think I haven’t learned the price of keeping secrets?” I gesture toward me scars, and she regards me for a few seconds, examining my face. I wish I could be a handsome bastard for her, but I can’t.

“I like your face just fine,” she says, so quietly that I’m not sure I’ve heard her right. “Being gorgeous can be a curse. I’d rather be strong like you. If you’re weak, life chews you up. Not like it just takes a little bite, either. Like one of those diets that tells you to chew one hundred times—it just keeps grinding away until there’s nothing left. I needed things to change.”

I pad over to stand next to her. I don’t want to scare her or get all up in her space, but I need this closeness. She wants change, and me? I want to not be alone tonight. Or maybe ever again.

“You get your change?” I ask her.

She leans her face against my damp thigh. “Maybe. I just want someone to see me. All of me. You think that’s too much to ask?”

I see her.

Sounds corny as fuck, but I can close my eyes and describe her to you, and I’m not starting with her face, either. Poppy’s someone special. Someone who laughs quietly but lives big and who’s not afraid to strike out after what she wants. She takes chances, and while some of them are bigger than others, she’s putting herself out there. She hums crazy, off-tune songs and she’s a mother to a cat. If she spots a wolf, she runs toward it, not away, because she believes even beasts need saving. She’s thoughtful, and people like her. She got all the nice, whereas I’ve cornered the market on mean. So yeah, I see her.

“You deserve happy, and I’d like to help you get that. There anything wrong with that plan? You in the mood for something different?”

“You do what you want.”

She tucks her cold fingers in the waistband of my jeans and tugs me closer. “We fixing you, too?”

“You think you can do that?”

“I can try.” She undoes my belt and pops the buttons on my jeans, her fingers brushing over my abdomen. She doesn’t tease or act demure. She just goes for what she wants and undoes me. My dick’s hard and impatient, but since she’s so goddamned close, I brush my mouth over the corner of hers. She sucks in a breath as I push against her hand.

“Need to tell you something,” I whisper roughly. With each breath I take, I’m filling myself a little fuller with her. Pretty soon, she’s gonna be a part of me. Maybe fucking all of me, and that could only be an improvement.

“What?” She shoves and my jeans clear my ass.

I run my thumb over her bottom lip. She’s all sweet softness and give—not an ounce of hard in her. Her ex was an asshole to hurt her like that.

“You don’t need to change for me. Ever. We crystal clear on that? If you do something I don’t like, that’s my problem. Not yours. The shit your ex pulled on you? Again, his problem, not yours.”

Her tongue touches my finger and heat streaks through me. Pretty sure she notices the way my breathing goes all rough because the corners of her mouth curl up. And then she sucks my finger into her mouth, all that hot, wet heat working me, teasing me. Letting me know what it would feel like if my dick and thumb traded places and she took me straight to heaven. No way I’m putting her on her knees on a half-flooded boat, so I hold that thought for later.

I pull out. “Now kiss me.”

“Oh.” She tilts her head back into the cradle of my palm, her lashes drifting closed in sweet invitation.

I cover her mouth with mine, brushing my lips over hers. Slowly. Then harder, deeper, my tongue opening her up and sinking deep inside. She moans, the needy whimper almost drowned out by the rain that still hasn’t let up. Might be the only two people left in the world at this rate, doing the Noah’s Ark thing and repopulating the world. I’m so fucking down with that.

I break our kiss just long enough to scoop her up and sit down, pulling her on top of my lap. I don’t have a whole lot of space to work with her, but I’ll make it count. Her thighs hug mine, panties rubbing against my dick and I almost explode. She runs her hands over my shoulders and my chest, making greedy, happy sounds as her fingers explore me.

She rides me, pussy rocking against my dick. She’s wet through her panties, or fuck, it could be me. It’s the sexiest thing ever, the way she’s okay with letting me feel how much she needs this. Needs me. I’m fucking naked in a boat in the middle of a rainstorm, and it’s heaven. Not sure how a scary bastard like myself slipped past the pearly gates, but here I am.

“Up. Get your panties off or I start tearing.” I smack her ass lightly.

I instantly want to do it again because she moans like that was the sexiest thing ever and she just might want to take an order or two from me. My wolf is certainly all for it, but she’s already shifting, standing up with her feet braced on the seat. My new view is a smooth, gorgeous slope up Poppy’s legs and a peek of heaven. Fuck me if I know where to touch first—the curve of her ass, the round softness where her thighs meet her pussy, or just go for gold and lick her right there until she screams.

“Don’t let me fall,” she says.

Never.

I brace her with my palms on the back of her thighs as she shimmies her panties down and off. I catch them before they can hit the ground. She’s not gonna want to go commando later, and the deck’s still wet. I consider keeping them as a souvenir, but the truth is the scrap of cotton and lace is my fucking white flag of surrender. I toss them onto the other bench. She can have them back later. Much, much later.

Possibly never.

“Sit,” I growl.

She looks confused, but my hands on her ass must be enough of a clue because she slowly relaxes into my hold. Told her I wouldn’t drop her and I meant it. She’s a tiny thing compared to me. It doesn’t take much effort at all to pull her pussy close to my face.

“Gator—” This time my name is a throaty moan and not a squeak. We’re getting somewhere. My name sounds like a question (surely you’re not going to…) and a demand (oh yes do it now).

So I tease her just a little. I learn the sweet curve where her thigh meets her pussy, nibbling and kissing, making her wait before I move higher. Christ. I fucking loved tasting her on my library table. It’s been forever since I wanted to know someone so badly, and I haven’t been able to forget the taste of her.

I lick her, and her hips buck in my hands, her hands digging into my shoulders and then fluttering up to grab what she can of my hair. I should grow that shit long for her so she can hold on because I plan to do this every single fucking night. She’s my favorite flavor, the best goddamned lollipop ever, and it takes me just two licks to get to her center.

“Christ, Poppy.” Think I sound like I’m praying. One thing’s for certain, I’d go down on my knees for her anytime.

She shrieks something that sounds like my name and more. Fucking happy to oblige. I kiss her, working my tongue up and down her slit, and ease a finger inside her. Her snug channel grips me hard, taking what she wants. Her fingers are tearing at my hair, her legs trying to close around my face, and we both know she’s close. I can feel her tightening, shutting down until there’s just that one sweet, hot point where I am. Where I’m kissing. I give her another finger, stroking deeper, higher, looking for her perfect spot.

She says something, but I’m lost in the perfect taste of her, pushing her higher, driving her right over the edge. She won’t fall because I’ll catch her. She won’t be alone because I’ll be right here with her. I suck on her clit, pushing a third finger into her, and she comes. She jerks and shudders in my hands, babbling my name and an incoherent string of ohmigods. Her arms tighten around my neck as she sags forward. But I’ve got her. I promised I would.

I kiss her down gently, pressing a small goodbye kiss against her clit and then easing her onto my lap. She makes a happy noise as her pussy slides against my dick. Or maybe that’s my dick projecting because it wants its turn and it’s looking for some affirmation. Doesn’t matter. If she’s done, we’re done. I tuck her against my chest and cup her head with one hand. Fucking love the way her hair clings and gets all tangled up with my fingers, so I draw my fingers over her face and through her hair, tracing small circles.

“Good?” I whisper against her hair. Might be telling her how awesome she is too, but that just makes me smart. Like getting a two-fer.

“The best. But we’re not done yet.” There’s a smile in her voice, the kind that’s impish and wicked and more than a little dirty. The best kind of smile, in fact. Plus, not being done yet is the best news my dick and I have heard all night.

“You got a condom?” she asks.

“And if I don’t?” I snort. Not like I was planning on being made a happy man tonight but it happens that I do have that shit in my wallet. Some things are just habit.

Poppy hops off my lap before I can stop her. “I’ll have to get creative.”

And then she fucking drops to her knees, pressing my legs apart with her shoulders. Holy. FUCK. The boat’s still rolling gently and the deck’s wet. No way that’s pleasant for her.

“Let’s compromise. Okay?” I move, scooping her up and grabbing my jeans. I rifle through the pockets for my wallet, open it up, and grab a foil square. I’ve got her covered.

Dropping back onto the bench, I shift her to my knees so I can rip open the foil packet and wrap my dick. The odds of a wolf shifter knocking up a human are low, but I don’t want her worrying, and I definitely don’t want to have the furry conversation way out here in the bayou where she can’t get away if she feels the need. Her fingers get all tangled up with mine as she tries to help me smooth the condom down into place. I’m a big guy, and gift-wrapping my dick is a challenge.

“Your turn.” She licks her palm and then drags it up my dick.

“Ours,” I say gruffly. This isn’t a one-man show. I’m not doing it by myself.

I run my hand down her back from her neck to ass.

She scoots forward, wrapping an arm around my neck and pulling me in for a kiss. Her other hand doesn’t let go of my dick, her fingers working me like she’s climbed right inside my head and knows exactly what I like. Her kiss is perfect too, all soft demand and exploring tongue. I open up and let her inside. Kind of fun, letting her take charge just a little.

I cup her ass with my hands, coaxing her to lift up and forward. She goes along with the suggestion, and my dick nudges her down low. The moan she makes suggests that she’s on board with my new plan, so I rub my dick along her sweet slit, pushing gently until I’m easing inside her an inch.

“Let me in,” I whisper into her mouth. She must hear how much I need her because she relaxes with a sigh. Fucking undoes me, the way she trusts me so I can’t screw this up. Not ever. I push deeper, trying not to explode on the spot.

I need to make this perfect for her.

She links her hands behind my neck, and then she rises up on her knees and comes down on me in one smooth rush. We both groan because nothing’s ever felt so good.

“Poppy,” I moan-gasp.

She must know what I’m trying to say because she just says one word. “Yes.”

And then there’s no more slow. It’s just the two of us riding hard and fast toward a finish line that’s coming closer and closer. I cup her knees with my hands, making them into stirrups so she doesn’t bang them against the bench. I can’t touch her, can’t move anywhere but up, so up I go until I’m drilling into her, and she’s riding me harder and faster, and I think we reach that fucking finish line at the same time because she’s got her face buried against my neck, her mouth whispering profane, happy shit against my skin. My name, a whole lot of praying, and then nothing but commands. Making her happy makes me happy.

Poppy

I’m not moving.

Not ever.

I hope Gator can drive the boat here because I’m done. Finished. Wrung out, panting, and utterly boneless. Who knew that all those stories about getting caught in a storm and being forced to share body heat were so deliciously accurate? I mean, not that there’s a blizzard raging around us, and we’re not in mortal peril of any kind, but still. We’re outside, the rain’s coming down hard, and he just boned the hell out of me while I rode him like a perverse cowgirl.

If I could figure out how to make muscles work, I’d totally do it again.

Gator mutters something dirty and rather accurate against the top of my head. His hands tighten briefly on my back, and then he’s easing me off him. And off him. Even spent, the man’s dick is impressive. I wriggle, trying to help, and that’s when we hear it.

Or maybe it’s because the rain’s picked this moment to stop.

There’s a tiny faint tearing sound. Perhaps I imagined it.

I finish de-dicking myself, and look down. Gator’s got his hand between us, dealing with the clean up. He looks up at me, and I know.

“Condom broke.” He runs a hand down my back. I’m not sure where the spent condom’s gone, but it’s disappeared. I don’t need to see the evidence to know he’s right. Something warm and sticky seeps between my legs, a million baby Gators trying for a home run and the knock-up swing.

“Okay.” I suck in a breath, trying not to freak out.

“Babe.” Big hands cup my face. “It will be fine. Trust me on this.”

Trust is such a funny thing. As amazing as the sex has been, I hadn’t planned on going all the way with him. Not to things like trust and… No. I shut the lid down on those feelings.

I did this with Nathan. Picked a guy who was hot and built—and thought he ruled the universe. Honestly, you’d think I’d know better by now. I mean imagine dating Thor. He’s pretty as fuck up there on the big screen, but his version of bad-assery doesn’t work in real life. You’d trip over the hammer, the ego, the hair. This is hot sex in the bayou, and even though I’d like to do it again, I’m not into trust.

Or feelings.

Am I?

“It was just one time,” I rationalize, completely ignoring my biology degree. I mean, I know exactly how babies are made and why tonight was probably the worst possible time for a condom to break. A drawbridge and an Enter Here sign have just broached the moat surrounding my castle, and the barbarians are rushing toward the keep to sack it. Or, more likely, occupy it.

What the hell was I thinking?

What have I done?