Untamed Hearts (BBW Biker Werewolf Romance) (9 page)

Reaching up, she threw her arms around Gunner’s neck, pulling him down to her level. He was right where she wanted him. His smile widened for a moment, then everything began spiraling upward. Gunner’s tongue flicked against her lips and she parted them, meeting each thrust and parry from him with one or two of her own.

His arms went around her, pulling her against his bare chest, sliding down her back. The warmth of his skin against hers was intoxicating. She slid against him, the friction of his body against her bra-covered breasts sending a shivering tingle through her, making her nipples draw up hard and tight.

The heat in her belly grew, the snake uncoiling, filling every inch of her body with wanton lust. It all hit her hard and fast, an involuntary shiver jerking her body. Gunner pulled away, looking down at her in the dim light, eyes dark and heavy-lidded with passion.

“I think we’re ready for that shower now.”

She grinned up at him. “Yeah. More than ready.”

Her hands had already popped the snap on his jeans, fingers eagerly tugging down the zipper. With just as much eagerness, Gunner reached behind her, undoing the clasp on her bra, taking both it and her shirt off in one move. They were both kicking out of their jeans at the same time, laughing as they bumped elbows and knees in the confined space.

Gunner reached behind her, turning on the shower, holding his hand beneath the spray until the temperature suited him.

He stepped aside. “Ladies first.”

Claire took his hand and stepped beneath the hot water. Gunner followed, pulling the shower door shut behind them.

“Oh, this feels good.” Claire stood for a moment, eyes closed, letting the water stream through her hair. “I want to thank whoever installed this shower head.”

“That would be me. I upgraded the cabin a few years ago. Now, if you don’t mind...” He took her by the shoulders and gently moved her aside, standing beneath the spray. “Before all the hot water is gone. Like you said, I am a mess.”

“I think I can help with that.” Claire took the bottle of shampoo and poured a generous dollop in her hands.

“Turn around and I’ll wash your hair.”

Gunner looked at her for a moment, a look of disbelief on his face. Then he shrugged, smiled, and obediently turned his back to her. Claire reached up, running her hands through his wet hair, working up a thick lather, working her fingers against his scalp. Gunner tipped his head back and she thought she heard him moan just a little.

Standing this close to him, their bodies slick with water, another wave of heat flashed through Claire. She let her hands slide down his shoulders, bubbles trailing over her fingers as she explored the broad expanse of his back, traveling lower, finally moving down to cup his taut ass.

Gunner dipped his head beneath the water, quickly rinsing the shampoo from his hair before turning around.

“You’re having all the fun, Claire. I want to play, too.”

He pulled her against him, his hands sliding down her back, mimicking the path her hands had taken, right down to his hands gripping her ass. He pulled her against him, and it was pretty damned obvious he was as aroused as she was. She slipped one hand down, cupping the length of him in her wet hand. Gunner closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, then let out a long sigh as she caressed him slowly.

“I guess you do want to play.”

He opened his eyes, his sultry gaze meeting hers. “Since the first crappy cup of coffee I ordered.”

She breathed out a laugh. “Really now? Were you ever going to make a move? Or were you just going to keep ordering the diner’s crappy coffee every day?”

Gunner’s eyes slid down to her hand, watching for a moment. “Were you ever going to make a move? Or just keep pretending to write ‘coffee’ on that little notepad of yours?”

She gave him a squeeze, a little harder than he might have been expected. He let out a deep grunt, hips jerking forward.

“Careful with the equipment, Claire, or no one’s going to be having any fun.”

“Come on. You’re tougher than that.”

“I have a soft side, you know.”

Claire giggled. “Obviously not today.”

“You have that effect on me.”

Gunner’s hand rested on her hip and he slowly slid it north, over her waist, until he was cupping her breast, thumb slowly rubbing over her nipple.

“I’ve wanted this...wanted you...since the first time I saw you.” He raised his eyes to hers. “But I...you just took my breath away, Claire. And all my words.”

He leaned forward, mouth finding hers again, his other hand circling her waist, pulling her against his wet body. Her hand, and what it held, was sandwiched between them, momentarily stilled.

The shower was filling with steam as the water beat down on Gunner’s shoulders. Claire was enveloped in a warmth like nothing she’d ever felt before, and it was not entirely due to the water.

The kiss deepened, Gunner’s hands working their magic as they moved over her body. Over the pounding of the water, she could hear herself making little moans and gasps against Gunner’s mouth. She thought she could stay here forever, locked in this embrace with this man.

Except she wanted more, and everything about Gunner, from the restless movement of his hands on her body, the deep moans she could almost feel—the activity in her hand— clearly told her he wanted more as well.

When he finally broke their kiss, Claire met it with a mixture of anticipation and frustration.

“Am I still a mess, or do I pass inspection?” She opened her eyes, the world a little blurry and unstable, and looked up at him. Gunner’s eyes were that beautiful blue between sky and ocean. And everything became clear.

“I think we’re just going to get all messy again, so as far as I’m concerned, you’re good to go. We should save the hot water.”

He was turning off the water before she’d even finished her sentence. When he turned back, he was smiling.

“After you.” He reached over her head, swinging open the shower door. Claire stepped out, Gunner right behind her. She hesitated, half-turning, smiling up at him, words on her lips. But he set his hands on her hips and pushed her out of the bathroom and down the short hall.

“Bed, woman. Now.” He slapped a hand across her ass none too gently, and she let out a surprised shriek. 

He was right behind her as she sprinted across the cabin, laughing over her shoulder. She was almost to the bed when he caught her, grabbing her around the waist, tossing her onto the bed. She landed on her side, rolling onto her back as Gunner climbed on the bed, finally coming to rest on his hands and knees over her. They were both breathing hard, Claire laughing, Gunner’s face wearing an almost evil smile, a smile that ignited something complete new inside Claire.

“Gunner...” The word came out in a breathless rush.

“Yeah. I know.” The smile faded, replaced with a look so wild and primal. Her body went from hot to cold, a shiver of excitement—excitement was far too tame a word to describe what she felt—running through her.

His hands were on the inside of her knees, pulling her legs apart. But she was already shifting beneath him, sliding down, rolling her hips up to accept him. She was ready, ready for some kind of animal sex, and ready for Gunner.

Gunner hesitated, just for a heartbeat’s worth of time.

“Don’t stop...not now.” Claire reached up, pulling him down, her mouth seeking his as he sank between her legs, his hips flexing forward as he took her.

“Oh God...Gunner.” The rush was intense, and she arched sharply against Gunner, hands plastered against his chest, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Something that felt pretty damn close to an orgasm gripped her and she flung her arms wide, grabbing the sheets, her body shuddering beneath Gunner.

His movements stopped abruptly and her eyes flew open. She found Gunner staring down at her, a perplexed frown on his face.

She rose up on her elbows. “What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”

“I was hoping you weren’t going to just roll over and go to sleep on me.”

“Oh, hell no. You’re not anywhere near finished.”

“Glad to hear.”

She caught a glimpse of a smile and a raised eyebrow, and then he was moving again, and all the sensations and heat and intensity were right there, building again, spiraling upward. It was hot and primal, exactly like Gunner, and just what she wanted, just like she felt.

Claire ran her hands over Gunner’s shoulders, retracing the path she’d followed that morning what seemed like an eternity ago. Her fingers slid over warm skin, down the dip in his spine at his waist, and then over the curve of his ass. She brought her hands back up to his shoulders, and then, because she could, she ran her hands back down over all those hard muscles and smooth skin.

The heat inside Claire built, her body taking on a life of its own, arching and twisting beneath Gunner. She wanted release, she wanted this to go on forever. She wanted everything.

It was Gunner who took her—pushed her—over the edge. He slipped an arm beneath one knee, pulling her leg high, changing all the angles and trajectories, finding some deeply hidden place, lighting a totally new fire.

There was a sudden thrashing of arms and legs, his mouth on hers, crushed against her in a violent, wonderful kiss and then she was flying apart, fingers dug into the mattress. The room, the bed beneath her all disappeared. Her only point of contact with the world was Gunner, his body, his heat, his breath hot and loud in her ear.

He jerked away abruptly, cried out, his body pulling away. She opened her eyes and saw him above her, head thrown back, muscles looking like they were carved in stone, even as her own climax continued.

Then his body shuddered and he thrust hard, filling her with such a sweet hot liquid heat she thought she would melt from the inside out. She rocked her hips up, meeting Gunner fully, taking him in, accepting every thrust, every movement, everything he had to give.

He finally collapsed against her, face buried against her neck, and she wrapped her arms around him, fingers twined in his hair, murmuring wordless sounds as she rocked him against her.

They stayed like that, locked in an embrace Claire thought was heaven on earth. The room had grown dim, and she wondered idly if it was already night. But in the distance she heard thunder, then the spatter and hiss of the first raindrops hitting the large window. A flash of muted lightning briefly illuminated the room, then the rain started in earnest, pounding down on the metal roof of the cabin.

Gunner rolled away, and Claire made a small sound of regret.

“I’m not going far. Come here.” He rolled onto his back, pulling her against him. She fitted her curves against the planes of his body, and they fit perfectly. Head on his chest, she closed her eyes, the scent of their lovemaking rising around them, the best perfume in the world.

The rain lulled her into a drowsy state, but one loud boom of thunder brought her wide awake. Along with wakefulness came the image of Adrian, bursting through the door. She jerked, and Gunner’s arm immediately tightened around her.

“You’re fine. Just the storm. It’s a big one, but I think it’ll pass pretty quickly.”

She relaxed, letting his voice, his words, soothe her. Closing her eyes, she gave in to sleep, for real this time, and it covered her like a favorite blanket, the sounds of the storm now of no consequence. The only thing that mattered was the sound of Gunner’s steady breathing, the feel of his body next to hers.

It was a long time later when she woke. The cabin was dark, the storm over, but there was no moonlight coming in from the window. She could tell Gunner was awake.

“So, you said you had a theory?” Claire raised her head from his chest. “You want to tell me what it is?”

Gunner shifted beneath her, pushing himself up against the headboard of the bed, reaching over to flick on the light. He raised his arm and she settled against him, and he pulled the blankets around her shoulders.

Finally he took her hand, absently rubbing his thumbs across her knuckles. “We both know something’s wrong with Adrian, besides being obsessed with you. I think he’s sick.”

“You mean something physical? With what? Is that why he gets stuck shifting?”

Gunner nodded. “I think it is.”

“But we don’t get diseases...do we?” And then it hit her, and the blood drained from her face. “Gunner...Adrian bit you. If he’s got something contagious...then you could get it...”

His grip tightened on her hand. “Listen to me. I’d heard stories from my dad. I thought he was just trying to freak me out when I was a kid. You know, scary stories around the campfire, that kind of thing.”

“What were the stories about?”  Her throat was dry, and it clicked as she swallowed.

“Shifters who couldn’t shift, who went off the deep end. Went crazy. Like Adrian.”

He was quiet for a minute and she wondered how it was for Gunner now, knowing the man who’d told those stories to that boy wasn’t really that boy’s father.

Gunner sighed and it was such a resigned, hopeless sound. “Yeah. Anyway. He said it was something that runs in families, genetic...” Gunner shook his head. “My dad used to tell me the disease...geez, what the hell’s it called? They used to believe it was what caused vampires, made humans drink blood so they didn’t go insane.”

“Oh. Um...p-something. Porphyria?” The word sounded strange, foreign, totally out of place in the quiet of the cabin.

“Yeah. That’s it. How did you know?”

“I read about it in college, English history...King George.” Claire frowned, distracted. A thought hovered at the edge of her mind, something horrible.

“So he’s got a genetic disease. But...” She sat up, turning to face him. “Gunner. He’s your brother...sort of. Then you’re...do you have it, too?” Images of Gunner, ranting and violent, ran through her mind. Compared to Adrian, Gunner was huge. If Gunner had the same condition...the thought chilled her to the bone.

Gunner shook his head. “I’m fine...if I were like Adrian, I’d be sick by now.” His voice was low, urgent. “There’s nothing wrong with me, Claire. I’d know it. Trust me on this.”

“But how? How can you be sure?”

“I broke Adrian’s nose at the diner, right?”