Chapter 4
He meant it to be one kiss—she knew, because he drew back after it with a rueful smile. But his arms did not release her, and Casey didn’t even hesitate before taking his shirt in her hands and drawing him back down for more. His lips were soft but demanding, his tongue parting her lips as he held her close.
The kiss deepened, and Casey heard herself moan. Somehow her arms had come around his neck and she was standing on tip-toe to kiss him. Her body was pressed up against his, and his hands had slid up under the loose flannel shirt. His fingertips trailed over her back and back down, drifting under the waistband of her shorts.
“Mmmm.” Casey pressed herself close, inviting his touch. Her skin was on fire, and she wanted nothing more than for him to push her shorts down…
What was she doing? Twenty-four hours ago she’d been crying her eyes out, trying to eat a bagel sandwich on the subway, and then heading out of town with a rented car and three bottles of wine. She’d been a wreck. Was this a rebound?
Well, that would fit with the theme of the weekend—but to tell the truth, she didn’t feel like it was. She would have wanted Nathaniel any time he strolled in the door. She was sure he would have been the first person she noticed in any room—and as ridiculous as it was, when he said he knew her after only a few hours, she knew exactly what he meant.
From the words he said to the way he said them, from cooking her eggs to offering to clean the kitchen floor, this man was gold. And Casey should know—she’d seen her share of men trying to be the perfect guy for a night to get into her pants. Something about him said this wasn’t a game to him. He offered to clean the floor because he had bled on it. He stoked the fire because it needed doing, he carried her to bed because she was asleep on the counter, and he cooked her breakfast because it would be nice.
And good God, he was hot. How was he not married?
She supposed he might be. The thought hit just at the moment that he pulled away again.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why?” She asked warily.
“You’re still sad; we only met last night…”
“No girlfriend, then?” When she saw how offended he looked, she backtracked hastily. “Sorry, sorry. I’ve…met my fair share of jerks. But I should have known you wouldn’t.”
“No, you shouldn’t—” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair; muscles rippled beneath the tank top. “You don’t really know me. As far as you know, I’m just some guy who wanders around forests.”
“And as far as you know, I’m some girl who sleeps on counters with shotguns and drinks too much,” Casey pointed out. His laugh was warm, and she smiled. “Is it crazy to say I think we both know the other person is more than that? It can’t just be me, right? You…kissed me.” Do you feel a connection, too? She closed her mouth on the question. It would be one of the most clichéd things ever. She looked down, crossing her arms. “Do you regret it?”
“Hey.” His voice was rough, and she was in his arms the next moment, one hand pressing in the small of her back, the other cupping her cheek. “No. I don’t regret it. I thought you might, though.”
“Not for a second.” Casey pulled him close again, her lips meeting his. She made small sounds of contentment, and heard him growl in response.
“Here.” He picked her up and settled back on the couch with her straddling him. He groaned when she ground her hips against his. “Woman, you do not know what you’re asking for.”
“The hell I don’t,” she murmured against his mouth. Right now she wanted her clothes off, and his, and him sliding inside her. She could feel him hard against her, if anything, more impressive than she’d thought the night before. She wanted his hands on her skin; she wanted to see him above her while she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Oh, you think so?” He laughed, low in his throat, and his fingers slipped between her legs to rub over the fabric covering her. When she gasped and arched, he smiled, one arm holding her in place for him to stroke again, and again…
“More.” The word came out of her before she could stop it.
“What’s that?” She could hear the smile.
“More, please.”
“Better.” His breath stirred her hair. His fingers brushed against her again, and he held her when her hips writhed. “Still not good enough. Try again.”
“More, please…sir?”
From his low chuckle, she knew that was what he wanted. He pushed her off him, down onto the couch, and settled between her legs. When she gave a little moan of satisfaction, he moved his hips against hers. His lips were at her throat, her collarbone…
“Please…” She didn’t even know what she was asking for.
“I like it when you beg.”
God, she was wet. She squirmed, trying to get her hands down to her shorts to take them off, and she gave a little sound of frustration when he pinned her hands above her head.
“You said…”
“I said to ask nicely.” His kiss was deep, making every semblance of a thought disappear from her mind. “And I’m going to give you everything you ask for…” He laughed. “…very, very slowly.”
She was going to come right here if he didn’t stop moving his hips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed against him, trying to spark the same urgency that was consuming her. She could not stop moving, feeling the pressure of him against her. God, she wanted him inside her. Right now, she wanted him to take her as hard as he could—and she knew when he did get inside her, he was going to move just as slowly.
Was he trying to drive her mad?
“What do you want?” She looked up at him, biting her lip. “Let me give you what you want.”
“I want you wet, and close to the edge, and begging me.” His voice was rough with desire. “And you’re very, very good at giving me what I want.”
That thought should not make her nearly tip over the edge, but God help her, she had never wanted someone like she wanted him. Everywhere he touched; her skin came alive with sensation.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered, and she felt him shudder at the words. Good. Two could play at this game. “Please?”
“What do you call me?”
“Sir.”
“Good girl.” He held her close for a kiss, and she melted against him, moaning.
The howl of wolves interrupted them. Close, and answered almost immediately by another howl. Casey shook her head, jolted out of the mood by the voice in her head that screamed danger. Wolves weren’t going to hurt them.
But Nathaniel was up now, his eyes scanning the back yard.
“It’s nothing,” Casey assured him, pushing herself up on her elbows.
“It’s not nothing.” He shook his head at once. “Get upstairs. Now.”
“What?”
“I don’t have time to repeat things. You need to get upstairs.”
“But they’re…” Casey caught a glimpse of movement at the edge of the trees. One wolf, then two.
“Get upstairs!” He snatched the shotgun and the rounds off the counter and shoved them into her hands. “Go!”
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t—” He took a deep breath. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Nathaniel…”
To her surprise, his face softened. He pulled her close, gently, for a kiss. Then he drew away, his face going cold again.
“Go. Don’t let them up those stairs.”
Panic flared in her blood, and she took the stairs two at a time. She curled onto the floor, shaking so badly she could hardly check the rounds. Her mind was full of images; wolves stalking through the house, creeping up the stairs. In her nightmare, their eyes were red and they were growling. They weren’t looking for prey; they were hunting her, coming right for her like a serial killer in the house. I know you’re there, the growls said. It would be like the bear, intelligence where there should be none. What was going on up here?
She had to stop thinking about this. If she didn’t, she would start screaming. Why in hell had she decided to come up to the cabin this weekend?
A sound from the yard nearly made her drop the shotgun. She swore under her breath and crawled, pushing open the master bedroom door and keeping low until she got to the window.
What she saw made her want to throw up. There were twelve wolves—no, twenty. Twenty-three. Twenty-five. They were emerging from the forest in twos and threes, a broad arc surrounding the house. Their growls, together, were enough to make Casey whimper in fear. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t happening.
The sound of the sliding door opening below nearly made her jump out of her skin. She wanted to scream when she saw Nathaniel limp out onto the porch. He looked around himself at the wolves, and they stopped, the growls growing in strength. One or two crept closer, and backed away with snarls as he looked over at them. Then, as one, they began to close in again. And Nathaniel…
…changed. Casey pressed her hand over her mouth as he grew before her eyes, clothes replaced with fur, face replaced with a snout. Up and up he grew, shaggy and powerful. The bear roared, swiped with its claws at the pack of wolves…and then took off for the forest at a heavy run, bowling several wolves aside with powerful swipes of its paws and disappearing into the trees. With a chilling howl, the wolves took off after him.
Upstairs, Casey slid down the wall, shaking. Her hands were clenched around the gun so tightly that she thought she might never let it go. What the hell was she supposed to do now?