Chapter Sixteen
By that next Friday, Jamie was itching to see Skylar again. They’d left things in a better light on Sunday, but the whole week had been full of clashing work schedules and late-night phone calls. The sound of her husky voice whispering in the night may not hold him over for long, but it was a temporary fix. He needed to see her. So even though he was exhausted, he rushed his ass from the station to her front door.
The lights shone in the windows and the Bronco sat in the lot, so Jamie turned the handle and stepped in to quite the view.
Skylar sat on the floor, her legs curled in front of her. One arm slung around her knees and she delicately swirled a glass of wine. The other hand swished a paintbrush across the canvas in front of her. It held her attention, giving him the chance to do nothing but stare at the serenity on her face. At one point she’d gotten paint all over her hands. Shades of blue and red covered her delicate knuckles and wrists.
She was so beautiful. And every time he saw her, it gripped him even tighter until it felt like his chest was going to implode.
“Hey,” she murmured, turning her face toward him. The chandelier light glittered in her eyes, and the smallest tilt of her lip beckoned him closer. Home. There it was again, that feeling of comfort and peace. His wolf hummed in appreciation just being in her presence. She put the paintbrush down on a tray covered with paint.
He cleared his throat past the sudden onslaught of emotions. Apparently her almost leaving had affected him more than he’d like to admit. And the vision in front of him made Jamie want to make sure she never went anywhere.
“Hey,” he murmured, shutting the door behind him and tucking his hands in his pockets. Anything to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing her where she sat. What was the matter with him?
“What are you doing here? Didn’t you have work?” She sipped her glass, arching an eyebrow.
“I missed you.” The words shocked him, and Jamie couldn’t believe he’d said them. Cool your jets there, speedy. It must have shocked her too because her eyes widened. But then they warmed, turning a darker shade of gray as her pupils dilated.
“Oh.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I missed you too.”
The silence weighed on them, the tension burning between the two of them. Only the sound of the crickets outside permeated the quiet. He itched to touch her, taste her, devour her.
“Where’s Emery?” The lack of music, TV, or scratch of a pencil usually indicated her absence.
“At that sleepover. Some girl named Alyson’s house.” She took another sip, slow and leisurely. The way she slightly licked her lips before touching them to the glass had Jamie shifting on his feet. His body sprang to attention at the teasing tilt of her head, the pass of her gaze over his body.
“Sooo”—he dragged out the word, moving closer toward her—“you’re here alone?”
She raised a brow again and tilted her head higher to keep eye contact. “Yep,” she stated, popping the p for accentuation.
Her eyes dared him, and dammit, begged him, to make the first move. Not one to back away from a challenge, especially from this particular she-wolf, Jamie leaned over and threw her over his shoulder. She squealed and let out an oomph as her body made contact with his shoulder.
“Jamie!” she screamed, beating her fists against his ass. “What the hell? Put me down!” Her laughter pressed into his shoulder, and he chuckled with her. Then he smacked a palm across her rear. Her shorts had ridden up from the toss, giving him plenty of bare flesh to spank.
“Quiet, Skylar. You’re going to bring the whole pack over here.” He tried to keep his voice stern, but the little laugh at the end didn’t help. He carried her up the stairs while she continued her ruthless squirming and fist-pounding.
“You’re going to get it for this, Jamie.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for, sweetheart.” In fact, at the moment, his cock pushed against his jeans to the point where it was uncomfortable. Her voluptuous rear near his face and her breasts pushing into his back were doing all sorts of wild things to his body. He didn’t pause on the way to the bedroom but dropped her onto the bed. She bounced, her tits jiggling underneath the black tank, and her hair flew in a wild mess of curls until she stilled.
She let out a loud noise of frustration, shooting him a dirty look.
“Aw, come on, sweetheart. I only did it to get us up here faster.” Jamie tried to soothe her anger, pulling off his shoes in the process. “The way you were looking at—”
His words were cut off by his sudden inability to pull in fresh air. A mouthful of fabric and stuffing blocked his ability to speak before it ripped from his mouth. His head rocked back at the impact, and he caught a glimpse of red pillowcase before it swung out of view again. In its place was a scowling Skylar, holding the offending pillow in her angry grasp.
“You don’t fling me over your shoulder like I’m some damsel in distress, Jamie. I should kick your ass for that,” she panted. “I’m perfectly capable of walking.”
Jamie’s jaw hung slack, and he could do nothing but stare. “Did-did you just h-hit me with a pillow?” he stuttered.
Skylar’s eyes widened, and she glanced down at the pillow in her hand. “Yeah, I think I did.” She looked back up at him, equally surprised at her actions.
Jamie grinned. God, she was adorable. Her silver eyes swam with uncertainty and surprise. After kicking off the shoe that still remained, Jamie stepped closer to the bed.
“You know what this means, right?”
She backed up, clutching the pillow to her chest, eyes still wide underneath dark eyelashes. Her lips parted, and Jamie wanted to pull her close and kiss the hell out of her. But certain steps needed to be taken.
She shook her head. “No.”
He got into her personal space, inhaling vanilla and whatever fabric softener she used that smelled so heavenly. His knees bumped into the side of the bed, and he leaned over her, a breath away from kissing those lush lips. Funny how just weeks before she’d done the same to him, teasing him, challenging him. Her breath faltered, and her lashes fluttered at his close proximity.
“It means…” He paused, looking at her mouth for a fraction of an instant. But then he reached behind her, yanking a pillow from its place and shooting back into battle position. “It’s on, baby.”
He swung the pillow, making contact with her side. She laughed past the shock, standing up to her full height on the bed and swinging wildly with the pillow. And battle they did. They swung, smacked, and demolished each other with the pillows until both of them gasped for breath. At one point, Skylar fell onto the bed, clutching her stomach with tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I-I can’t,” she stuttered between laughter. “Oh, my God.”
Jamie fell next to her, trying to gain control of his breathing. He looked at her. Really looked at her. Her face flushed with happiness, her hair falling about her wildly, her laughter filling the room. Hearing it lifted him up, flooding his heart with joy. Dammit. He loved her. Loved that just seeing her smile made him want to thank the goddess for bringing her to him. Loved that she challenged him with her confidence and independence. And he especially loved the look in her eyes right then, when her laughter died down and she stared with her mouth parted in desire.
Other Shifters spoke about it all the time. How your wolves just know when you’ve found your mate. It wasn’t fated, but more like a mutual respect and interest, a scent, appreciation. It had taken him a long time to notice that he was falling for her—along with his wolf. It wasn’t like he was oblivious to his wolf’s reaction around her, but he was a little too distracted by how his human side reacted. And right now, both were reacting strongly with the reality of love slapping him in the face.
His heart clenched. It was too much, too soon. Falling in love meant it was over. She could tear him up, bring him down, and squash him under the heel of her boot if she decided to leave. And she almost had. All it took was one sign of problems, and she would run. He couldn’t give her that power. They always leave, a little voice murmured in the back of his head. And she was even shakier than Ellie had been. Ellie. Even the thought of her name had him retreating back into his shell.
“What’s wrong?” Skylar whispered, searching his face.
Jamie could only shake his head. He brought a hand up to push some of her curls behind her ear. He could give her this. This was something they could do. Lust, passion, sex. Fucking. That…was what he could handle. He moved closer and caught her gasp with his kiss.
He tried desperately to ignore the way his heart sang at the sound.
Something was different in the way her skin felt beneath his fingertips. It was like the reality of his feelings for her changed her very presence. It was in a moment like this he could let go. He didn’t have to tell her how he felt with his words, and she didn’t have to tell him. They stripped each other slowly. When he trailed his mouth down her body, dipping his tongue into the crevice of her belly button, her answering moan was enough. It filled his heart, and he hoped like hell that his pleasure did the same for her.
He nuzzled between her thighs, inhaling her sweet aroma. “Goddamn, sweetheart. I can’t get enough of this.”
“Jamie,” she gasped, but it quickly turned into a moan as he flattened his tongue across her slit. Her juices coated his tongue, and he groaned at the taste. Fuck. She tasted like the sweetest honey.
He closed his eyes, completely enraptured by the woman quivering in his hands. She bucked her hips forward, pushing further against his mouth, trying to urge him to keep going. There was no rushing. He wanted to savor her. He lapped slowly, dipping his tongue within her wetness every few swipes of his tongue. Her moans echoed in the room as she grew closer and closer to the peak of her pleasure.
An overwhelming urge to taste her release had him circling her clit with his tongue as he inserted two fingers inside her. She cried out and rocked her hips, her delicious core tightening around his fingers in release. He let her down easy, slowing his movements until she shivered the remainder of her orgasm away. His cock jutted uncomfortably between them, thick and swollen with desire.
He lifted his head to look at her, and his heart panged. She stared at him, her eyes hooded with pleasure. Her pink tongue darted out to slowly lick her lips, and her cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful.
It took everything in him not to pounce on her like an animal in heat.
He slid back up her body slowly, and she sighed against his lips.
“Jamie,” was all she said, but she scratched her long nails against his back with a softness that made him want to make love to her. Fucking went out the window. He couldn’t do it with the way he felt ready to burst with the emotions choking him.
After slipping on the condom, he dipped into her slowly, his length stroking her walls in the most delicate way he could muster. It seemed like forever before he made it to the hilt, and she clenched around him. He gritted his teeth, staring into her gorgeous silver eyes. They were unfocused with passion, but he lost himself in the swirling depths. Their moves were slow, precise. They breathed against each other’s lips, catching each other’s moans, and just watched each other. It was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever done.
It didn’t take long for his movements to become erratic. He thrust into her harder, and her lids finally fluttered closed as she cried out in release. He groaned, and his head fell onto her shoulder. Her vanilla scent invaded his senses. He was so full of her, surrounded by her, and fuck if his heart didn’t feel so completely overwhelmed.
Her orgasm did him in. He pulsed inside, wishing so deeply that he could mark her as his, remove the little barrier of rubber that prevented that final step. His wolf agreed, growling its approval, which resounded in the room. Well, shit.
* * * *
Jamie pulled on his boxers, hair still dripping from their shared shower. Skylar remained under the steady stream so she could wash her hair. He smiled as he shut the door behind him, effectively blocking her quiet humming over the sound of falling water. His bare feet padded across the hardwood, down the stairs, and into the studio below. He checked the front door and deftly clicked the lock into place. But when he ran his hand along the wall, his fingers hesitated at the light switch. Never once in the last couple of weeks had he checked out the studio, and there were Skylar’s paintings open to his viewing.
Curiosity had always been his problem. It was why he became a cop, so he could use that curiosity for good. And now it was piqued, pushing him to move toward the stack of canvases where Skylar had sat before. The one on the easel had been recently started, but he could just make out the outline of a figure with short red hair. She was painting Aurelia.
She must be so torn up right now, still trying to face the fact that someone she loved so much was gone. And that it wasn’t just an accident, but something Lia brought upon herself.
Sighing, he traced his fingers around the figure, careful not to smudge the black outline. Before Cat, Aurelia had been good. Annoying, sure, but some girls just were when it came to guys. But something about Cat arriving pushed her over the edge, and that always tore Jamie up. He should have helped her. Should have seen the signs behind the anger. He’d thought she would get over it eventually, and that had been his mistake. It had been everyone’s mistake.
He stood, shoving his guilt and resentment down where they belonged, and moved to the shelf full of canvases. They ranged in size, some only as big as a piece of paper and others poster-sized, meant to hang from walls. She’d separated the clean canvases from the used ones. He ran his hand over the coarse material and looked at the painted ones.
Em laughed at him, her freckled face scrunched in absolute joy. Her dark eyes squinted toward the viewer, and her hair dropped in two scarlet braids. Skylar had caught the expression perfectly. It had probably been such a rare view, one that Skylar relished and had to capture. To treasure. He flipped past it to reveal the one underneath. A blonde woman with eyes the color of milk chocolate looked over her shoulder, a seductive tilt at the edge of her lips. From underneath long eyelashes, her eyes begged the viewer to come hither. Flip. Em again, this time crying. A different type of paint had been used, some kind of watercolor. Her red hair covered one eye in a waterfall. It mixed with shades of blue, tinting the scene, as if the expression wasn’t sad enough. Tears dripped like smeared paint down past lips parted slightly as if on a sob. Jamie swallowed, flipping that one over too.
He paused because the next one wasn’t of a subject. Or at least not any subject that Jamie could place, because this one was faceless. It reminded him of the little cherubs on ancient paintings, chubby and childlike. Large white wings curled around it, its feathers holding the tiny being in their soft embrace.
“See anything you like?”
Jamie startled at the sound of Skylar’s voice. He didn’t usually lose himself so completely. His ears were always alert to the sounds around him. But something about being in Skylar’s vicinity had him dropping his guard all over the place. She walked down the stairs, toweling her hair dry and smiling beneath wary eyes. When she got closer and noticed the one he had paused on, her smile fell.
Her sadness told him he didn’t really want to know. But he asked anyway. Damn curiosity. “What’s this one supposed to be?”
She dropped the hand holding the towel to hang at her side, and with the other brushed her fingers over the painting. It rose and dipped over areas thick with paint. Her chest rose and fell with a heavy breath.
“Jonathon didn’t only take my parents from me, Jamie,” she croaked out, her fingers still touching the faceless angel, like she could bring it out of the fabric.
The words sucker-punched him, and for a second he stopped breathing at what she implied. A faceless angel that looked like a child. His skin prickled with awareness, icy fingers tickling up his spine. He didn’t dare say a word, breathe, blink, waiting for her to continue her story.
“When I was nineteen, I dated a boy. Adam. It was secret to everyone but us. He helped me restore the Bronco because his dad owned an auto repair shop. He knew how Jonathon was, what he did, but Adam couldn’t do much. We were so young…” She trailed off, closing her eyes against the memories.
“When we found out I was…pregnant…” She choked it out, like she still couldn’t believe it. Jamie wanted to reach for her but hesitated, needing to hear the rest. “We decided to run off. We would bring Emery, start our own pack. Jonathon would never have allowed me to mate, much less have a baby. I was his possession, his slave. Adam must have told someone because Jonathon found out.”
Her foggy eyes opened and met his, tears pooling beneath anger and memory-ravaged sadness. “He dragged me to Adam’s house that night and pulled him from his bed. His parents, his little brother, and I watched as Jon beat him. He hit him, over and over again, repeating that this was my fault, that none of this would have to happen if I wasn’t such a whore, if I had kept my legs closed. Adam lay there, helpless, when Jonathon moved on to me. I tried so hard to protect our baby. But Jonathon kicked me, kicked our baby, until I knew. I knew it was too late. I should have shifted, should have ended it right there. But then I remembered Emery, and I had to hold on. Even when Jonathon shifted, looked me in the eye, and ripped out Adam’s throat.”
Her gaze went cold with hatred, and Jamie framed her face with his hands. She shook beneath his touch, or maybe it was him, or maybe it was both of them. She should have had a family, happiness, and love. Reality slammed into his gut, and he wanted to protect her, to save her from that pain. To bring her only joy. To give her hope that there was so much more than what she had seen.
He leaned forward, brushing a kiss to her temple, inhaling the sweet scent that was all Skylar. She closed her eyes, and he circled his nose against hers, entwining his fingers into her wet curls.
“He won’t get you here, sweetheart,” he whispered, and hoped to the goddess it was true.
A couple of tears slipped past her lashes, landing on his thumbs. He stroked them away and pulled her shuddering body into his arms. This beautiful woman covered her pain with sarcasm and false confidence. The shaking woman in his arms, baring her soul, ripped him to shreds. She was incredible and so fucking strong. So brave for taking her sister and doing everything on her own. But he swore it was the end of her loneliness because he would do everything in his power to make sure she was never alone again.