Hot Licks (17 page)

Gwen rolled over with a groan. She hurt everywhere.

Well, maybe not everywhere. Her nose was good, so were
her ears, and basically her whole head was fine – thanks to
Rome – but the rest of her ached, and as she took stock of
the various sores and twinges, she knew not all of them
were from yesterday’s physical exertions.

How could she be so aroused it was damn near
painful? She’d had two orgasms yesterday. Two. Each so
powerful she saw stars. A bright kaleidoscope of beautifully
vivid stars. Logic told her it was the synopsis in her head
going apeshit, but damn if the sex and the intensity of her
release hadn’t been better than any she’d ever had.

Especially with Stupid Steven.

She stretched, letting out another groan as tight
muscles pulled and flexed, then she opened eyes gritty
from lack of sleep and too much time staring at a computer
screen. She’d sat in front of the laptop for hours last night,
reading article after article about vampires, werewolves,
witches and other supernatural beings. Not that she’d come
across a witch, but if there were vampires and
werewolves/werecats – or shifters as many articles called
them – then it was a distinct possibility that other mythical
creatures existed. And she wanted to be ready.

The vast amount of information had been staggering.

Theories on shifters ranged from psychotic animals of
mammoth height and strength that slaughtered and
destroyed without any conceivable purpose to dark and
seductive men and women who were rich, gorgeous and
unmatched in sexual prowess.

She was going for somewhere in between. Well,
except the sexual prowess part, because,
damn
.

As that line of thinking wasn’t going to cool her ardor anytime soon, she rose to a sitting position and glanced over at the bedside clock. It was nearly eleven.

Unsurprising since she hadn’t gone to sleep until right before dawn. Foresight had caused her to shut the blackout curtains, throwing her bedroom into darkness so she could sleep in.

Her jaw nearly cracked around a huge yawn and she peered around the dim room, trying to force herself from the comfy mattress. She knew she needed to exercise her muscles to loosen them up, but she was having a hard time finding the motivation to do so.

Her eyes landed on the small pile of clothes on her dresser. Annie had washed and dried her wet, dirty clothes, handing them to Gwen before they had all gone off to bed last night. She had yet to put them away – so unlike her – and seeing them brought back a memory.

And not a good one.

“
Oh, shit.
” She jumped from the bed and in her haste, nearly fell against the slider when one foot got caught from the tangled bed sheet.

“Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohimigod.” She chanted in panic as she rushed over to the dresser and pawed through the clean clothes.

No panties. Which meant they were still in the tunnel.

The place Rome, Porter, Scott and God-knew-who-else had milled about not only yesterday, but this morning.

Though it was a known fact she’d changed into clean, dry clothes in that pit, what happened between her and Rome down there suddenly made the idea of anyone seeing a forlorn pair of panties scandalous.

Also on her dresser was the loaner phone, and she stared at it, indecisive. It was a company phone and no doubt contained Porter’s number in the contact list, but did she really want to ask Porter to search for her underwear?

Grimacing, she reached for the device and, after a several false starts, scanned down the list of contacts, pausing when Rome’s name came up.

“Call or text?” She asked herself. Texting was less embarrassing, but the phone was a clamshell which, for Gwen, made texting a pain. “Phone call it is.”

The fluttering in her belly had nothing to do with anticipation at hearing his voice, or so she told herself, and everything to do with getting her undies back before they were seen by the entire northern hemisphere. Gwen moved over to the slider and opened the curtains, squinting as bright sunshine flooded the room.

“Felix.”

The clipped, professional tone made Gwen straighten.

“It’s Gwen.”

“Well, good morning, beautiful.” His voice dropped to the same low, husky tone he used when he whispered naughty things to her, while buried deep inside her, urging her to come. A shiver of electric heat arrowed from her head to her toes. “How are you feeling?”

She paced the foot of the bed. Hot and bothered, that’s how she was feeling. “A bit sore. How are you?”

Procrastinating at its best, because she already knew how Rome was.
Fine
.

“Wanting you.”

She tripped over her feet and fell on the bed. “What!?

You can’t just blurt things out like that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth. I want you again. I want those gorgeous legs bare and straddled across my face, spreading your sweet pussy open so I can lick your cream at my leisure until you’re writhing and screaming my name as you come on my tongue.”

Face flushed with heat, she made a strangled sound, her panties dampening with that cream he wanted to taste.

Her cheeks burned even hotter. “Stop that!”

He chuckled. “Why? Am I turning you on?”

“I was already turned on,” she snapped back before she could censor her words.

Rome drew in a pained breath. “Yeah? You need me to come home, baby, and ease you?”

Crap. There it was. Not completely out in the open, but close enough to some of the things she’d read last night to worry her. Blogs, theories, articles that stated that shifters mated for life, and that when they met their mate, a physiological reaction occurred. Something called the mating heat. An intense period of physical and chemical attraction that bound two individuals together for life, regardless of their emotional connection.

Mates could loathe each other, yet either remain together or return to each other time and time again when the urge to couple became too intense to ignore. It sounded like a living hell to Gwen.

But if they loved each other...

She pushed to her feet, walking to ease her shaking legs. No, she wasn’t in love with Rome. She didn’t loathe him either. Did she care about his well-being? Yes.

Respect him? Who wouldn’t? He was smart, honest, strong, close to his family, thought of others before himself, had a sense of humor, and smelled fantastic.

Desire him? Most definitely.

So she liked him. Alot. But that was a far cry from loving him.

“That’s not why I called.” She gripped the phone, yanking her thoughts to the matter at hand.

“That’s a damn shame,” he groused. “Is something wrong?”

She tugged on her loose braid, mussed from a night of restless sleep. “Did you find anything in the tunnel?”

“We haven’t finished clearing the stairs yet. Once we do, I’ll look for your phone, but I wouldn’t hold any hope that it’s still in working order,
bella
.”

She already figured her phone was toast. “I don’t mean that. I’m talking about
something else
.” The last two words were hissed out with urgency.

He paused. “Something else? Like what?”

Oh, but she heard the smile in his voice. The beast.

Pun intended now that she was almost certain she knew the truth. “You know what.”

“Would that something else be soft, pretty and smell like you?’

A growl stuck in her throat. “Dammit, Rome.”

He laughed. “Why yes. I believe those have been found
and
confiscated.”

She was in danger of grinding her teeth to dust. “And just what does that mean?”

“That means I have them, safe and sound.”

“I want them back.”

He made a low humming noise as if in consideration.

“Hmmm. No. I’m keeping them.”

Her jaw dropped. “What? Why?”

“Because they’re soft, pretty and smell like you.”

She was coming to appreciate Melinda’s idea of a pan to the head. “Rome. Give them back.”

“Then come and get them.” He replied in a husky voice. That quietly worded statement sounded too much like a challenge to Gwen, so she responded the only why she could. She hung up on him.

When she was finally composed enough for human interaction, she found Annie in the kitchen, listening to an oldies radio station while she pounded dough with enough force that Gwen’s brows rose.

“There’s a breakfast burrito in the warmer if you want it.”

With a cautious thanks, Gwen retrieved the huge burrito and tub of salsa from the fridge. “Isn’t this your day off?”

While it was true the bed-and-breakfast did a booming business over the weekends, it was rare to have Tuesday or Wednesday night guests, and if they did, Melinda took care of their needs so Annie and Bob could enjoy their free time.

“It is, but I felt the need to beat something into submission, so I’m making cobblers.”

Cobblers were good. Very good. Nobody made

cobblers like Annie.

Gwen slipped onto the bench at the kitchen table and unwrapped her burrito. “Is there anything I can help you with?” The offer was for more than kitchen aid, and they both knew it.

Annie sent Gwen a lopsided smile over her shoulder.

“Thank you, dear, but no. My granddaughter’s getting a divorce.”

Though that was a bummer, Gwen didn’t understand why the news would stir Annie’s anger. “I’m sorry.”

After another minute of pounding, Annie sighed, lay the dough in a bowl and covered it with a towel. “She tried, you know? My Katie that is. They were so young when they got married, and Josh joining the army and going off to war before he was old enough to drink.” Sadly, she shook her head, measured out ingredients for more dough. “It changed him. Her husband. From the dreamy, bright-eyed boy to a dark, moody man, given to fits of depression and anger. I don’t know what happened between them. Don’t know if he ever touched her in that anger, but I have my suspicions. Now she’s out on her own, and has been almost since the birth of their daughter, and she’s done trying to work things out. Done because Josh won’t get counseling, won’t take any meds, won’t stop drinking and she won’t take little Madison near her daddy when he’s like that. It’s just awful. Sad and awful and upsetting.”

War sucked. Gwen appreciated and thanked God for those who served in the military, sacrificing so much for their country; their energy, their family and too often their lives. But sometimes those life sacrifices weren’t horribly instant. Sometimes it was a slow, lingering death as their sanity was shredded bit by tiny bit.

Annie was right. It was sad, awful and upsetting, and while Gwen knew there was help for those who needed it, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

“But,” Annie continued on a happier note, “I think I’ve convinced Katie to move to Florida when her lease is up. It will be a real joy to finally hold my great-grandaughter.

Anyway, enough about me and mine. How are you feeling this morning?”

Gwen stayed for awhile, talking with and helping Annie by cutting peaches and filching blueberries until Annie laughingly kicked her out of the kitchen.

Back in her room, Gwen dressed in a one-piece swimsuit, leaving Rome’s overdone bandaging on her leg in place until after she used the pool to work her sore muscles. She didn’t bother to open the sliding glass door that separated the indoor part of the pool from the outdoor section. There was no reason as she could easily swim under the partition. She did, however, flick on the ceiling fans to allow air circulation.

After ten slow laps, she folded her arms along the slipproof edge at the far, outside end and peered out over the Orchards. She could see Andreas amongst the naval orange trees, checking for any problems that might hinder the November crop. Out along the hamlin orange trees, Gwen could see several workers harvesting the fruit by hand. Andreas refused to use the canopy-shaking mechanical harvesters that many other orchards utilized, comparing it to shaking a baby whenever it was brought up.

Though he did allow the boughs of the olive trees to be shaken at harvest time. That, he claimed, was more like shaking a baby’s finger or toe, which caused his family no little amount of exasperation.

Andreas turned from his inspection of the leaves and, seeing Gwen’s head peeping from the pool, raised his arm for a wave, which she returned. A butterfly flitted over the budding flowers of the garden and from beneath the lowest branches, Gwen saw a twitching tail from one of the outdoor cats.

It made her think of Rome. If he was what she thought he was, did he go out and stalk game? Not that there was much in the way of game out here for a large feline, but it made her wonder if that was the real reason the family retained the reserve, keeping it separated from guests by fences and guided tours only. So they could run and hunt.

Except Gwen hadn’t notice any decline in the animal life in the reserve since she’d been there.

And because that thought made her stomach queasy, she dropped back into the warm water and finished off another round of slow laps.

It was as she rose to her feet in the shallow end that she heard the wolf whistle. An appreciative sound that echoed in the large room, catching her off guard because she hadn’t heard a soul enter.

She wiped the water from her eyes, turning to see Rome slap Scott upside the back of his head, telling him to knock it off at the same time, while Porter laughed at Rome’s other side.

All three stood near the edge of the pool, looking hot.

As in sweaty, hard, outdoor work hot. All wore jeans and tshirts covered in dirt and sweat from the heat and humidity, making the material cling to their chests. But it was the sight of Rome that caused her nipples to poke against the wet material of her swimsuit.