Werewolf in the North Woods (Wild About You #2)(18)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

“You could help wash me off.”

“Absolutely.” He wasn’t sure where to start. She had mud and leaves in her braid, which was nearly undone, and plastered on her back, her bottom, and the backs of her thighs. She’d be within her rights to ream him a new one, and yet . . . she seemed to have enjoyed every bit of his rutting behavior.

As she stood there, the rain had some effect on her condition, but not enough. He needed containers of water he could pour over her hair and her back. If he brought out their two cooking pots, he could collect the water and do a better job. And he could use his camp towel, too.

“Wait right here. I’ll get some stuff.”

“Okay.”

He grabbed everything as quickly as possible, stopping long enough to grab a small plastic bottle of shampoo he saw sticking out of her backpack. Then he rushed back out. She would be fine out there on her own for a minute or two, but he was becoming more protective now that they’d made love. No, they’d had sex, he told himself sternly. It was great, but it was still just sex.

Or it had been until he’d lost his mind and taken her right there on the ground, in the pouring rain, sliding on wet leaves, squishing in the mud. It had been . . . monumentally good. He might as well admit that to himself, even if he curbed his reaction when discussing it with her.

He dashed back out of the cave and came to a screeching halt at the sight that greeted him. Abby stood in the rain, arms outstretched, hair loose, face lifted to the rain. Because she was still decorated with leaves and pine needles, she looked like a wood nymph giving thanks for the bounty spilling from the heavens.

She looked like . . . a woman he could love. Was this what his brother, Aidan, had encountered in Emma? A woman who was right in every way but one?

Damn it. Roarke didn’t need this problem, nor did his family and his unborn children. Abby didn’t deserve to deal with it, either. But he was making one big assumption—that she was developing feelings for him, too.

If she wasn’t, then he didn’t have anything to worry about. She hadn’t said anything along those lines. Obviously she had a thing for his johnson, but that wasn’t the same as wanting him, Roarke Wallace, PhD, second son of Howard Wallace, werewolf pack alpha.

He’d be wise to dial back the sexual involvement with her, because good sex could sometimes lead to emotional attachment. Maybe that’s all he was feeling. But he had a tough time convincing himself of that.

Sex with Abby had been beyond great, no doubt about it. But he hadn’t felt that tug on his heart until he’d walked out here and caught her worshipping the rain. Something in her spoke to something in him, although he could work to tune out that frequency.

He would do exactly that, starting now. Walking toward her, he set the pots on the ground so they’d fill with rain. He’d help clean her up and then suggest they climb into their sleeping bags for the night.

At the pinging noise of the rain in the metal pots, she turned, looking for all the world like a startled creature of the forest.

He shoved that thought out of his mind. “I thought having containers of rainwater would help,” he said as he approached her. “We’ll start with your hair. I brought your shampoo.” He handed her the small bottle.

“Thank you!”

He kept his tone businesslike as he picked up one of the pots. “Tip your head back and I’ll pour a little water through it. Then you can soap up.”

“All right.” She leaned back and let her hair flow downward.

“It’ll be chilly.”

“That’s okay. I’m used to it now.”

She was far too adaptable. He hadn’t counted on that. Most women would have been protesting the minute he started pouring cold water on their head.

Abby said nothing. Instead she kept her head back as she squirted shampoo into her hand. Then she handed him the bottle. “Can you hold this for a sec?”

“Sure.” He watched her massage the shampoo into her hair, which was a mistake on his part. Earlier today he’d wished for a chance to watch her put her hair in a ponytail while nak*d. This was way more provocative.

She arched her back to keep the soap from going in her eyes as she reached up and worked the shampoo in. Naturally her br**sts lifted and quivered with every motion. Two steps, and he’d be in position to lean down and take one of those dancing n**ples in his mouth.

Thinking about that had a predictable effect on his cock. If he’d hoped that two hot sessions with Abby would have tamed that bad boy, the hope died as his penis began to throb. He stared at the ground and willed it to behave.

“Ready to rinse?” she asked.

He glanced up to find her still leaning back, but she’d stopped soaping her hair.

“Or I can do it.” She reached out her hand. “Just give me the container. You don’t have to wait on me.”

“I’m happy to.” He probably shouldn’t have said that, but the truth popped out before he could censor himself.

“Thanks, Roarke. You’re a true gentleman.”

He didn’t deserve that label when all he could think about was stroking her soft skin until he made her want him again. She was susceptible to him, and he was more than ready to take advantage of that. He was no gentleman. He was a werewolf who couldn’t seem to control his sexual appetite.

Picking up the second pot, he slowly poured water over her soapy hair and followed the streams with his fingers, working the suds out. He’d never washed a woman’s hair before, but he liked doing it. Or maybe he only liked washing Abby’s hair.

She murmured something, and he stopped pouring to lean closer. “What did you say?”

“I said it feels nice.”

“The water?”

“No, your fingers in my hair. I like it.”

He heaved a sigh and gave another lecture to his cock. This could get out of control so fast. “I think most of the soap’s gone.”

She stood up straight and looked at him. “Are you angry with me, Roarke?”

“No, of course not.”

“You sound angry. Or abrupt.”

He gazed at her and decided she deserved nothing but the truth from him. “You’re far too appealing, Abby. You may have no feelings for me other than sexual ones, but I’m worried that I might start caring too much for you. That would be a mistake.”

“So you really are still scared you’ll fall for me.”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“After the way things turned out for your brother, I don’t blame you for being concerned. Do you think we should stop hav**g s*x? Would that help?”

His body rebelled against the concept, but his brain had already decided abstinence was the right move. “I’m sure it would.”

She continued to gaze at him. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused more problems. I kidded myself that you were this iron-willed being with his path mapped out and I’d only be a slight detour along the way.”

“That’s the way it should be, but . . .”

“It’s not. I can see that, and I’m honored that I’ve touched you that much. I don’t want to mess up your plans, or mine, either, for that matter. I can’t imagine living a dual life. Not that you’ve even suggested such a thing,” she added quickly. “Chances are you want to get away from me quickly and put yourself back on the werewolf track.”

He couldn’t help smiling at her terminology. “Something like that.”

“Then by all means go back in the cave, put on some clothes, and climb into your sleeping bag. Shampooing my hair washed off most of the leaves and mud, so I should be finished up in no time.”

“There’s no way you can wash your back.” He picked up the other pot of water and dipped a section of the camp towel into it. “Turn around and let me do that.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“It’ll be fine.” He made a circling motion with his finger. “Go.”

“But you see, Roarke, I have a very appealing back.”

Even in the dim light he caught the glint of mischief in her eyes. “It’s not your back that gets to me.” He walked around her since she’d refused to turn for him. “It’s your cute little butt.” Unable to resist, he gave her a playful pinch on one creamy cheek.

“Hey!” She spun around to retaliate, but he dodged away from her, laughing.

She gave chase, but she was no match for an agile werewolf. He teased her by letting her get close and then feinting to one side, neatly avoiding her. He shouldn’t have started this game, but God, it felt great to run through the rain with Abby.

A moment later he faked her out and grabbed her around the waist. The rain and the romp had dislodged almost all the mud and leaves from her body, and he was left with a squirming, damp, extremely desirable woman.

“Let me go.” She struggled to get loose. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”

“Too late.” He caught her chin in one hand and held her still. “Way too late.” Lowering his mouth to hers, he decided he would definitely put some space between himself and Abby . . . tomorrow.

Chapter 14

Abby had tried to do the noble thing and save Roarke from himself, but if he insisted on kissing her like that, what was a woman to do? When he picked her up and carried her into the cave, she surrendered to the concept that they’d have more amazing sex. A girl had only so much willpower.

One good thing, she thought as he pulled her down to the sleeping bag and rolled to his back so she could climb aboard, was all this sex was sending blood to every part of her body and working muscles that would have been stiff as hell tomorrow if she hadn’t spent the evening getting nak*d and having orgasms with Roarke.

A more intimate part of her anatomy might be sore, though. As she took his considerable length deep inside and leaned forward so he could draw her aching nipple into his mouth, she acknowledged that his supersized equipment would leave her with a few twinges to remember him by. A steady diet of Roarke would have taken care of that as her body stretched to accommodate him, but she couldn’t look forward to that kind of adjustment period.

She’d have to take comfort in knowing that he found her way too appealing and that he’d tried and failed to keep his hands off of her. Those were gratifying truths to remember. They wouldn’t make up for that awful moment sometime in the near future when they’d have to tell each other good-bye, but they both knew that would have to happen eventually. They’d survive.

Together they reached another shattering mutual cli**x and slept wrapped in each other’s arms. Abby thought that would be the end of their night of passion, but Roarke kissed her awake sometime during the night and moved between her thighs once again. This time his lovemaking was slow and sweet, at least until the last, when they both were captured by the frenzy that seemed to claim them whenever they set each other on fire.

Afterward, he propped himself on his forearms and gazed down at her as his breathing gradually returned to normal. “Wow.” He drew in a shaky breath. “Thank you, Abby. You’re . . . someone I never expected to find.”

Her body still humming from her orgasm, she touched his cheek. “That goes double for me. Triple for me.”

He chuckled softly. “I suppose so. Having sex with a werewolf isn’t all that common.”

“Just so you know, I won’t ever reveal you. Never, Roarke.”

“I know that.” He kissed her gently. “You said I didn’t trust you, and you were right. I didn’t at first. But now I’d trust you with my life.”

Her heart warmed. “Same here, Roarke. Same here.”

“Good.” Easing away from her, he lay on his side and tucked her in close, spoon-fashion. “Sleep, Abby. Sleep, my . . . friend.”

She didn’t think they were friends. Any fool could tell that they were lovers. But it wouldn’t do either of them any good to label themselves that way. Nestling in the curve of his body, she slept.

When she woke, she was alone in the cave and wondered if he’d shifted into werewolf form to scout around. Daylight filtered through the leaves of the bush hiding the cave entrance and she couldn’t hear any rain. Only voices.

Voices! Dear God, who could it be? She lay very still and listened. One voice was definitely Roarke’s. She’d developed an ear for that timbre, that cadence. She didn’t recognize the other man’s.

She should probably get dressed and at least peek through the branches to see who was out there. She didn’t know if Roarke would want them to know about her or not, but she could find out if it was anybody she knew.

Like Cameron Gentry. Now there was a scary thought. Yeah, she’d better be quiet as a mouse until she found out who she was dealing with. But as she started to get up, she yelped.

She clapped a hand over her mouth and clenched her jaw against a moan as she sank back to the sleeping bag. Damn, she hurt all over. But she should still get dressed.

Every muscle in her body announced its displeasure as she rose to all fours and scanned the cave searching for the clothes Roarke had pulled off her the night before. She was sore in places she hadn’t known she had. Ouch and double ouch.

Remembering the small bottle of ibuprofen in her backpack, she crawled over and rummaged around until she located it. The water bottle was too far away considering the suffering involved in fetching it, so she swallowed a couple of tablets dry and sat on the cool stone floor waiting for them to kick in.

Nature girl had morphed into couch-potato girl, but alas, she had no couch on which to spend the day. Her gaze fell on the cave wall where she’d played Hangman with Roarke the night before. There it was, the word that had launched their spectacular boinkfest.

She was sore down there, too, but she didn’t mind that. She hadn’t had such great sex in . . . actually, she’d never had sex like that. The sex had probably kept her from stiffening up even worse.