CHAPTER 13
The rain had started sometime before dawn. Naomi knew because she’d been awake most of the night. She had plenty of reason for tossing and turning until daybreak. Keyed up after the big hit on Moda. Concern for Michael and the wellbeing of the kids staying at the house. Dread over the fact that if Slater got wise to her, he could retaliate not only with his security team made up of homicidal human goons but a Breed male besides.
A trained assassin, according to Asher.
And then there was him. Asher.
Of all the thoughts that continued to plague her mind, it was being under the same roof with Asher that made sleep next to impossible.
It hadn’t helped that the bedding and the T-shirt she slept in all smelled like him. Every time she closed her eyes, her head filled with images of him. His angled, rugged face and deep cobalt eyes. His square jaw and broad, lushly shaped mouth. Now that she knew what that mouth felt like on hers, she was finding it hard to think of little else when she was near him. As comfortable as it had been talking with him in the kitchen last night, every time he met her gaze she felt certain he knew how badly she wanted to kiss him again.
Yeah, she was pretty sure he’d figured that out.
When she’d reached out to touch his hand and tell him she was sorry about Ned’s death, he couldn’t seem to get away from her fast enough.
And although he had taken her face in his hands after she’d all but thrown herself at him with that mostly innocent offer to pay him back for all he was doing for her, he had evidently thought better of kissing her a second time. The way he practically bolted from the house, it was a wonder he didn’t knock out the screen door as he went.
Naomi heaved a sigh and got out of bed. She didn’t know where he was, or where he’d been during the night. The house was quiet except for Sam, who was parked outside the bedroom door, sleeping in a lump on the faded runner. He lifted his head as she came out, showering her outstretched hand with licks and nuzzles.
“Good morning to you, too,” she murmured, padding quietly to the bathroom.
On the vanity was a packaged toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, evidently placed there for her sometime between her shower last night and daybreak. After cleaning up a bit and running damp fingers through her hair, she stepped back out to the hallway.
Sam led her into the empty kitchen and over to his equally empty bowl. “Are you trying to get me in trouble, or do you really need some breakfast?”
He tilted his head at her, eyes pleading and basically irresistible.
“All right, then. Breakfast it is.” She retrieved his food and poured some into the bowl, then refreshed his water too.
She couldn’t help wondering how things were going back home, picturing the happy chaos of kids setting the table and helping with eggs and pancakes—one of Michael’s specialties. The urge to call and check in was nearly overwhelming. But they’d already risked enough with their texting last night. Once the casino check was in the bank, then she could think about resuming her life back in Vegas.
Which would mean leaving Asher to resume his without her.
Why that thought gave her a pang of regret, she surely did not want to know.
She pushed the feeling aside, and turned her focus toward more productive ideas. After foraging without success for coffee or a means to make some, she settled on tea that she found in one of the cabinets. With a steaming mug in her hands, she moved through the house, slowly taking it all in—the upholstered furniture and TV from another era, the framed photographs and whimsical knickknacks. The old sound system and the collection of music CDs, classic R&B sharing shelf space with country albums of all kinds spanning the last couple of decades. There were book cases filled with paperback novels, their spines bent, pages yellowed. And one the floor near a worn recliner sat a basket of crossword puzzles and Sudoku, most of them solved with pencil in the shaky scrawl of an aged hand.
She saw snapshots of Ned and Ruth’s life in this house everywhere she looked.
What she didn’t see was evidence of Asher.
Fifteen years he’d lived with the old man who’d given him shelter in his home; almost another year of living here without Ned. Yet Asher still hadn’t settled in. He could leave tomorrow and there would be no signs that he’d ever been here at all.
Naomi sipped her tea and drifted into the back wing of the rambling house. This part was an addition, and down the hallway were a couple of spare bedrooms—both unfurnished, as if plans for a growing family or visits from Ned and Ruth’s friends and relatives had never materialized.
Farther down this same hall, she heard a muffled scraping sound coming from the room at the end. The rhythm of the movement was fluid, thoroughly focused.
She paused at the open doorway of what appeared to be a woodworking shop and simply watched Asher work for a moment.
His head was bent down, those silky chocolate-brown waves hanging over his forehead as he painstakingly sanded the edge of an elaborately carved wooden headboard. He was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only a pair of loose, faded jeans.
She stood and stared, mesmerized by the tangle of dermaglyphs that traced all over his chest and torso, and down onto his muscled arms. The Breed skin markings were just a shade darker than the rest of him now, but she knew they were a barometer of his emotions. In the short time she’d known him, she had seen them change colors multiple times, usually in fury.
Finally, he glanced up. He scowled, which seemed to be his usual expression whenever she was around. “Is anything wrong?”
“No.” She shrugged, lifting her mug. “I hope you don’t mind that I made some tea.”
“Of course, I don’t mind.” He waited as if expecting her to leave then. Or hoping, maybe.
Naomi stepped into the room, glancing at the collection of pieces stored there. Hand-crafted chairs. Handsome side tables. A pair of bookcases. Even a tall armoire. Plenty of beautiful things to outfit most of the house. And all of it was expertly made, nothing less than a work of art.
She couldn’t resist walking over for a closer look. “These are some amazing pieces. Why did Ned keep them all back here?”
“A few of them are his,” Asher replied, his tone unreadable. “The rest are mine.”
She swung an incredulous look at him. “Yours, as in you made them?”
He gave a vague nod. “Ned taught me the craft, before he lost his sight and the use of his hands. At first, I only helped him finish the things he had to abandon. After a while, I found working with my hands was a good way to occupy my mind, especially when I’m cooped up inside during the daytime.”
She glanced at the headboard with its flourishes and interlocking swirls of inlaid wood. A pattern that was echoed on Asher’s skin. “You’re really good at this. You should move some of these pieces into the other rooms of the house. The side tables would work really great in the living room instead of the old ones in there now. If you want, I could show you how I’d arrange them.”
He was staring at her as if she had just offered to shave his head. “I don’t spend much time in the living room and I have no use for any of these things in here. It’s just Sam and me in the house, and we don’t need much.”
“Have you ever thought of selling what you make, then?” She set her mug on a workbench so she could run her hand over the satiny curve of one of the chairs. “It seems like a shame to let beautiful things gather dust when someone could enjoy them.”
“I have no interest in selling them, either.” He put his sanding block down, aggravated and curt now. His gaze swept her from head to toe, displeasure in his tense expression. “You’re still wearing my shirt. There’s a small laundry room off the kitchen if you want to wash your clothes.”
She offered a smile that went unreturned. “Thanks, I’ll do that. I never could stand the smell of smoke. My mom used to bring it home with her every night she was at the casino with Slater.”
Asher grunted. “As soon as the sun’s down we’ll drive up to the state line for food and supplies. You can pick up some extra clothes too. In the meantime, why don’t you go find something to do. Read one of Ruth’s books, or finish one of Ned’s crosswords.”
“Are you serious?” She folded her arms, frowning as he went back to work on the headboard as if she were already gone. His gruff tone and dismissive attitude chafed the first time she found herself in this house, but being on the receiving end of it now—especially after their kiss—stung her more deeply than she was prepared for. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
He glared up at her. “I can’t do that until I’m sure Slater is dealt with. And more than likely, Cain as well.”
Her mouth flattened tightly, but only in an effort to keep the pain out of her voice. “If I wasn’t worried that I might put Michael or the kids who count on us at risk by going home right now, I’d already be gone.”
She pivoted to walk out, but two paces away from him she stopped. She couldn’t take the emotional confusion, nor the foolishness she felt at having allowed herself to feel something for this man—this cold Breed male—who clearly couldn’t wait to be rid of her from his life.
She swung back around, furious with herself as much as him.
“Why did you kiss me in the truck last night, Asher?”
His face hardened. “Does it matter? It was a mistake. One I won’t let happen again.”
His words made the air in her lungs evaporate, made her stomach feel like a rock inside her. He resumed his sanding as if he had no more to say. As if it were that easy for him to dismiss her, not only from the room but from his thoughts.
“A mistake,” she said, nodding, knowing she should feel the same way about it, but couldn’t. “Did you do it because I was crying? Because you felt sorry for me?” She sucked in a shallow breath, staring at his lowered head and the bulky muscles of his shoulders as he scraped the sanding block over the already smoothed edge of the headboard. “Did you do it out of fucking pity, Asher?”
His hand stilled abruptly. On a low growl, he dropped the sanding block and shoved the headboard away from him, vaulting to his feet. Naomi stepped back, instantly questioning her own sanity for provoking him. It was hard for her to remember sometimes what he was, what this dangerous Breed male could do to her.
At the moment, though, he was simply Asher, the man who was turning her life upside down with a desire she didn’t want to feel. A longing that centered wholly on him, this dangerous, solitary man she wanted against everything sane and reasonable she knew.
She stood her ground as he prowled toward her, albeit with a slight tremble in her limbs.
His stare incinerated her, his eyes ablaze and glowing with hot amber light. The glyphs on his broad chest and powerful arms swirled and seethed with a riot of dark colors—indigo, wine, and gold. His jaw was rigid, but as he pulled a breath through his tight lips, she glimpsed the pointed tips of his fangs.
“Yes, Naomi,” he said, his deep voice as rough as gravel. “When I kissed you, it was because you were crying.”
She inhaled sharply, hating that it sounded so much like a catch in her throat. When she glanced away from his searing stare, he reached out. His large hand curved around the back of her neck, leaving her no choice but to look at him.
“I kissed you because your tears put an ache in me, too,” he murmured. He shook his head, piercing her with those otherworldly eyes that seemed to hold even more torment than what she felt churning inside her. “And because as much as I knew it would be a mistake to taste your lips, not even that was enough to make me want you any less.”
Before she could say a word, he lowered his head to hers and took her mouth again. Not the tender brush of his lips against hers like in the truck the other night, but deep and hungered and raw. His tongue invaded, scorching her from the inside with every fevered lick and thrust. He kissed her like he wanted to eat her alive.
Like he’d been starving to taste her again and now nothing would keep him from claiming all of her.
The desire that had been smoldering between them since she woke up for the first time in his bed, alive only because of him, now exploded into a heat neither of them seemed able to contain. Where their first kiss had been tentative and uncertain, this one left no doubt about what they both wanted—needed—from each other.
Asher put his hand under the long hem of the T-shirt she wore. He moaned against her mouth, his fingers stroking over the thin fabric of her panties.
“Seeing you in this last night was torture. Now I can’t ever wear it again without picturing you in it like this.” He cupped her sex, kneading the growing ache that bloomed there. “And then knowing you were in my shower, naked and wet . . . fuck.”
His caress grew more intense, his big hand spreading her legs wider, granting him better access to the drenched juncture between her thighs. She arched into his touch, clutching his shoulders as her head spun with pleasure. His fingers were hot as he swept aside her panties, then delved into her slick cleft. Sensation shot through her with each caress, each rhythmic plunge of his fingers into her quivering body.
“This is what I wanted to do,” he uttered between heated kisses, trailing his mouth down onto her throat as he brought her to the brink of madness with his hand. “It took all I had not to walk down that short hallway and join you in there.”
Naomi moaned, moving helplessly against his palm and fingers. “Asher.”
“That’s right,” he growled. “Now, maybe you understand why I kissed you. And last night as you showered in the next room, what I wanted more than anything was to feel you slippery and wet under my fingers, and then I wanted to fuck you, Naomi. I wanted to push you against the tiles and drive into you until I no longer felt this damnable need to be inside you.”
“Oh, God.” She was panting from his wicked touch, on the verge of climaxing right where she stood. “I wouldn’t have stopped you, Asher. I had all those same thoughts too. I wanted all those same things. It’s what I pictured as I touched myself in there. Imagining it was you touching me, stroking me the way you are now.”
He purred low in his throat and stared at her with fiery need. “Did you stand under the warm spray and come thinking about me, sweet little Narumi?”
The sound of her name—her real name—should have felt wrong, jarring even.
No one called her that now. She didn’t permit it. But hearing her given name on Asher’s lips, especially when he was looking at her as though she belonged to him and only him, untethered something deep inside her.
She felt freed.
She felt seen.
And she felt safe, truly safe, perhaps for the first time in her life.
“Yes,” she sighed against his lips when he came back for another kiss. “I did come thinking about you. Then I spent the rest of the night alone in your bed, wondering if you’d come in and join me. Wishing you would.”
He let out a rough curse, the sound punctuated by the rip of her panties being torn away. Asher pulled the T-shirt over her head, then ran his hands along every inch of her nakedness. His muscles bunched and flexed, his glyphs pulsing and alive with color and movement—like living art dancing on his golden skin.
She couldn’t bear the impatience to feel all of him too.
Skimming her hands down the sides of his torso, she shivered at the pure strength of him. There was no doubt he was more than mortal, no question that he was the most lethal, powerful man she’d ever been close to. But he was also flesh and bone, all of it pulsing and formidable and hot beneath her questing fingers.
He moaned low in his throat when she reached into the loose waistband of his jeans and took hold of his cock. Her breath stopped for a moment as she realized his size. But any hesitation she knew was burned away in the next instant as he thrust in her grasp, hissing when she gripped him tighter and began to stroke his length.
“I want to see you,” she whispered. “I need to feel all of you.”
When she fumbled a bit, he took over, unfastening the button and zipper and shoving the denim down. Naomi stared, marveling at the beautiful glyphs that tracked around his lean hips and onto his groin, disappearing into the dark thatch at the root of his cock.
She took him in her hands again, admiring him now with her eyes and her touch. His response was a deep, unfurling growl.
“Am I the first Breed you’ve been with?”
“The only one.” She didn’t miss the way his eyes glowed brighter at that admission.
“What about human men?”
She shrugged. “A couple, I guess. But it’s been so long, it might as well be forever.” She held his fiery gaze, still stroking him and trying not to let her knees buckle beneath her as he explored her body too. She was so wet for him, so hungry to feel him inside her she could hardly stand the wanting. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Asher.”
His mouth curved in a sinful smile. “Good.”
He sank down in front of her on his knees, one hand gripping her hip to brace her while he spread her open to him with the other and nestled his face against her sex. His mouth engulfed her, his tongue pressing wet and hot between her folds, then circling her clit with merciless strokes that had her seeing stars behind her closed eyelids.
He made wildly erotic, animal noises as he licked her tender flesh and fucked her with his tongue. He was an unstoppable force, a storm she threw herself into with total abandon.
“Oh, God,” she gasped, shaking as he drove her toward the crest of an intense release. She came against his mouth, shuddering and panting, her veins feeling as white-hot and electric as streaks of lightning. “Asher!”
She was still spinning in that oblivion and wracked with the power of her climax as he tore away from her on a low snarl and lifted her off her feet.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered her, his voice an otherworldly rasp.
With her ankles hooked behind his back, he held her aloft, his strong hands positioned beneath her thighs as he guided her slowly, inch by impossible inch, onto the length of his shaft.
The fullness went beyond pleasure and into pain, a sweet, delicious ache as her small channel stretched to accommodate the full measure of him. It felt so good she nearly came just from the overwhelming sensation of completion.
Then he started to move.
Holding all of her weight in his hands as if she were a feather, he glided her up and down, thrusting impossibly deeper with each controlled stroke.
She rocked against him, needing more. Needing all he had to give her.
He groaned as she coaxed him into a harder tempo. “You’re so small, Naomi. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m tougher than I look, vampire.”
He grinned, a devilish flash of enormous fangs. “So you are.”
“So, don’t stop, Asher.” She kissed him hard, giving his lip a meaningful nip. “And don’t be gentle.”
“Ah, fuck.” His gaze was an inferno now, his amber irises devouring the narrow slits of his pupils. On a coarse snarl, he tightened his grasp on her and drove in hard—once, twice, again and again.
Naomi moaned, a tremor building swiftly into a release she could neither slow down nor contain. Her pleasure exploded out of her on a scream.
And still Asher kept going, ungentle and wild, giving her just what she demanded of him.
He came with a roar that should have torn the roof off the house, his release a scalding, endless jet that only made his strokes slicker and more fevered. The friction was too much, her body too sensitive.
Another orgasm rushed up on her, leaving her shuddering and boneless in its wake.
“Oh, God.” She panted against his shoulder as she struggled to catch her breath. “That was . . . incredible.”
His answering chuckle was dark with promise. “Yes, it was. But don’t think I’m finished with you yet. We’ve got hours of daylight ahead, and now that I know what you like, I intend to make the most of them.”