Hunter's Moon (3 page)

“What’s wrong?” he asked her, and no one else would have seen the worry he tried to hide. But what everyone didn’t know was her connection with Julian was more than just years working together. He was her uncle, her guardian, after her werewolf father went rogue and killed her mother. Shaking her head, she forced those memories away. It was too much in a week that had already been too much.

“I’m getting out of here.”

“It’s Halloween, Gia,” he
almost
whined, and she grinned.

“Believe me, I hadn’t forgotten that. Why else am I in this ridiculous getup?” she teased and tried to ignore the sadness he couldn’t quite hide from his eyes. Tried to ignore the matching sadness that weighed like a stone in her chest.

“You look more like your mother every day,” he said softly but with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “That is exactly the kind of thing she would have worn for Halloween.”

“Thanks,” she answered dryly. How did he know to bring her up when Gia had just been thinking of her?

“You need to start living a little, Gia.”

She rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to have this old argument again. It was too late to change now. She picked up a glass of wine rather than start a fight that never ended. “I’ll be on the porch.”

She exited through the French doors behind the makeshift bar. It was a little cool, but not uncomfortably so, and several people were hanging around outside. She waved hello, but didn’t stop, doubted anyone would have wanted her to, and walked to the corner where the porch wrapped around the back of the house, glad to find it empty.

She sat on the swing hidden in the shadows at the end of this long section, and nudged the floor with her foot. With a sigh of relief, she rested her head on the back, closed her eyes, and let the gentle motion rock her to a more peaceful state of mind. One that was ruined by the soft tread of footsteps. A gait she recognized. Damn him. Anthony just wasn’t going to leave her alone, was he?

* * * * *

He’d only looked away for minute, but when he was done being filled in on the search for the feral cat, Gia was gone. Eyes narrowed, he searched the room but there was no sign of her. He saw Julian playing bartender and the older man met his gaze with a hard, disapproving one of his own. What the hell was that about? Anthony started in his direction. If nothing else, maybe he could find out where Gia had run off too. He only made it two steps before that damned werelion blocked his path.

“I don’t have time for you right now, cat.”

“Make it. And apologize to your woman. If you can find her. Personally, I think there should be groveling involved for that little stunt.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” It better be damned good if the cat didn’t want his throat ripped out.

“She’s been waiting all day for you to show up. A woman like that does
not
put on a corset for just anyone.”

He hoped that was true. That corset was almost indecent. He liked it. A lot. He’d only allowed himself a brief glimpse, but what he’d caught…Slender waist, beautiful breasts, long bare legs. Tattoos. He was intrigued. He’d never figured her for the tattooing type. He was getting derailed. He focused on the cat and tried to banish the images of her naked, writhing beneath him.

“Where did she go?”

He scoffed. “You blew her off. Looked right at her and turned away. And the entire room saw it. I may be a cat, but you can be damned sure we know how to treat our women. But hey. You haven’t bothered to claim her. Why don’t you just leave her to me?”

He didn’t bother to repress the growl as he got in the cat’s face. “She’s
mine
. You better not forget that.”

“You upset her. I’m a cat. We react badly to that kind of thing.”

So he was just looking out for her? No way. The werelion smiled and stepped out of his way. “She went outside. Don’t make me have to give you a lesson in manners, wolf,” he added softly as Anthony walked by him.

He fisted his hands, ignoring the taunt and the urge to punch Carlos, and went outside. He found her alone. It was clear she was not happy when he joined her.

“What do you want? You think you could wait to get on my nerves another night? I’m really not up to going twenty rounds with you now,” she said without lifting her head or opening her eyes.

“What are you up for?”

She snorted, sat straight for a moment—just enough to take a long drink from her wine glass—before resuming her position or answering. “Nothing you can give me,” she whispered. He sat down next to her on the swing, a little alarmed at the change he was seeing in her. She seemed so sad. Is this what she hid under that sharp, acerbic tongue of hers? Rolling her head so she faced him, she opened her eyes. “What do you want? I really mean it. I’m not up for this tonight.”

“What’s wrong? Let me help.”

She met his gaze and held it. Which was a good thing because he was having a hard time not letting his gaze drift lower. It happened anyway and he nearly groaned at the glimpse down her cleavage. That promise of heaven was inked alright. As deep as he could see, an explosion of red roses covered the tops of her breasts, into that tantalizing V, and up to her collarbone.

“Like the view?” she asked sarcastically.

He bit his lip against replying in kind and went with simplicity. “Yes.”

Her eyes widened. “No snappy comeback?” There was a faint tremble in her voice, and with his superior wolf’s senses, he heard the acceleration of her heart. He shook his head. “No.”

He turned to face her, laying one arm across the back of the seat, gripping it with one hand. The other he lifted to touch her, gliding softly down the side of her face, down her neck, stroking once, twice across her collarbone. She shivered and he smiled at her response.

“You’re not as immune to me as you try to pretend.”

“I never said I was,” she whispered.

“In a million little ways, you have. You go to great lengths to keep me at a distance, Gia.”

His fingers moved to the exposed swell of her breasts, then along the edge of the corset. He drifted up to trace the petals on one of the flowers and she froze, breath caught for a moment at the contact. He liked the reaction. How would she respond if he tasted her? He bent his head to do just that when she jerked away and spoke.

“Hey, I already made you an offer. You turned me down. Remember?”

He straightened, knew there was a touch of bitterness to his laugh. “You know damned well you weren’t serious.”

She was not going to use that against him. They’d both been grumpy after days of chasing a rogue wolf. Snappy and exhausted, snarling at each other for hours, and cooped up in a car together. It was not a day he remembered fondly. She went very still again, then stood and started to walk away. Fuck. Now what? Why had she even brought it up? Just to have an excuse to push him away? Pausing, she spoke without turning to face him.

“You’re wrong about that. I was dead serious.”

She didn’t hesitate this time when she walked away, stride long and hurried. Oh hell no. He wasn’t about to let her retreat. He caught her before she reached the turn in the porch.

Grabbing her elbow, he spun her around to face him and kissed her before she could protest, before she could try to take the words back. His tongue swept into her mouth with no resistance. When it touched hers, she moaned, pressed against him, and went so limp he grabbed her quickly. But he didn’t have to worry. She hung onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders, while her body pressed against his. Her belly rubbed against his throbbing erection. He liked, no loved, the direction this was going, but he was damned if the first time he had her was outside on a porch. She whined when he broke the kiss. She wanted him. If his cock wasn’t throbbing so hard, almost painfully, he would have smiled.

“I need a bed. I need you naked. And horizontal,” he panted.

“No.” She shook her head. “Out here. The moon is so beautiful tonight.”

She took his hand and tugged until he followed her down the stairs to the yard to a cushioned lounge chair that sheltered under a huge oak tree. He knew it was a favorite spot of hers, having spotted her there many times through the summer and fall.

She pushed him onto the chair then straddled his waist with a sigh and a soft murmur even his greater hearing couldn’t make out. But then there was no need to hear or even think. She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his skin, following with her tongue. She closed her teeth around his nipple and tugged.

He was harder than he’d ever been and close to losing control when she shifted her lower body to press against him. He set his hands on her thighs, gliding up slowly under the skirt while she pressed biting kisses across his chest to his other nipple. As she flicked her tongue over it, he slid his fingers under the edge of her panties, moved to stroke over her clit. She trembled and ordered in a ragged whisper, “harder.”

Gladly. He didn’t know what had caused this sudden change, but he sure as hell liked it and planned to do plenty more of it. The panties had to go, however. He gripped her hips and lifted her to stand next to him, then also stood. He walked around her and found the zipper on the skirt, slid it down so she could shimmy out of it and tug off her undergarment. Then he unstrapped the plates on his legs, letting them fall to the ground before pulling off the stupid loincloth he’d been convinced to wear and lay back down.

Bare from the waist down, Gia moved backed into position. Would he want her to remove the corset? It was tight and restricting, concealed her nipples and she’d really like him to play with them, but it made her feel sexy and wanton. Emotions she’d never felt and she liked it, wanted it to last as long as possible.

He didn’t touch the front zipper on the garment. Instead his hand returned to her pussy, now exposed to the cool air and his gaze.

“When I have more time…” He let the thought trail off and she wondered what he was promising for later. If he was. She would have asked, but his fingers were pushing into her cunt, his thumb rubbing circles over her clit, and the power of speech failed her. She moved with him, urging him into faster, harder strokes, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out when the orgasm rushed over her.

And then he was lifting her, rearranging her so his cock could thrust up into her. His thumb was back on her clit, his thrusts deeper, harder. Better. Infinitely better than anything her fevered imagination could come up with.

She tried to fight it, to draw it out. Her head fell back, eyes closed, as she struggled with the sensations. He replaced his thumb with two fingers, squeezing a little, rolling her clit between them. She started to shake, knew there was no more delaying the orgasm.

“Look at me,” he demanded and what she saw in his eyes only seemed to intensify what she was feeling. Dominance. Lust. Possession.

The orgasm seemed to start in her fingers and toes, worked quickly through her limbs, came to settle and explode in her womb. She trembled with the power of it, unable to stop herself from yelling out his name. Like that was a signal he’d been waiting for, he sat up and claimed her mouth. There was no other to way to describe it as his cock and tongue thrust into her in the same short, fast rhythm. He only broke the kiss to cry his release into the silent night.

After a moment, he lay back against the chair, pulling her with him. With her ear pressed against his chest, she could hear his heart pounding, his ragged breathing, and she finally realized this was a huge mistake. Yeah, there was a ton of sexual chemistry between them, but they got on each other’s last nerve in the best of circumstances. How was she going to deal with him now? Would there be constant references to this incident? No, he’d probably pretend it’d never happened. That should suit her just fine, but it didn’t. Damn, what a mess.

She rose, reluctant to break the quiet peaceful moment, but determined to get it over with. Like ripping off a Band-aid. Standing, she pulled on her underwear and skirt, struggled a bit with the zipper before he sat up, turned her around and helped.

“Where are you off to?” His smile was slow and sexy. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Her heart lurched in her chest at the words, but she refused to read anything into them other than a bit of lingering lust. It couldn’t be more than that. She didn’t have it in her to trust a werewolf with more than casual sex.

“I need a minute. To get cleaned up.” She was making up excuses to get away, knew by the way he narrowed his eyes that he knew it too. “I’ll see you back inside.” She hurried away before he could protest. She needed more than a minute or few to compose herself. She was afraid anyone who saw her now would know what had happened.

She almost got away. He had to put his costume back together, but it wasn’t long before she heard his quick steps behind her. She’d only made it as far as the porch when he stopped her with a hand on her elbow.

“Let’s get out of here. I want to talk to you. Alone, Gia.”

Damn. He had that hard undertone to his voice, the one he used when he refused to be denied.

“I promised Julian I wouldn’t leave. Give me a minute and I’ll meet you back at the party.”

She fled before he could stop her. She went straight to her old room. Julian kept it ready for her even though she’d moved out years ago, so when she walked into the tiny bathroom she found just what she wanted. Her fingers shook as she brushed out her hair, getting rid of the
I’ve just been very bad and loved it
look. She took several deep, steadying breaths before picking up the tube of lipstick. Anthony had kissed hers off and once reapplied she felt more like her old self.