A Werewolf to Call Her Own ( Mystic Isle#2) Page 4

  “Well… no.” She didn’t want to give everything away. Not how deeply she’d been attracted to him. It was so new. She’d never experienced attraction before, on any scale. And to be hit with it to the point that she could hardly breathe some moments, where she could think of nothing but him, his hands, his lips. She felt drunk.

  “We’re waiting.”

  “The owner told us someone had spotted dolphins so we went up to the roof to look for them.”

  Avery’s inky-black eyebrows notched upward. “That’s it?”

  “We saw the fireworks.”

  “But were there fireworks between you?” she asked.

  “When he kissed me…” Ceara touched her lips. If she closed her eyes she could still feel his heat there.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Izzy said, her accent thick. “If you like him, he kissed you, you saw fireworks, why is he not with you? Why are you here alone?”

  Ceara chewed her lower lip. “He says he can’t give me anything more than a night or two and that I deserve better than that.”

  Avery sighed. “I’m in love already.” She propped her chin on the heel of her hands and stared at Ceara.

  “You would be,” Izzy said.

  Avery was a serial dater. Always had a man on her arm. A man in her bed. Another on the phone. And one waiting in the wings. She simply loved men. If every man was like Maxim, Ceara would love them all too.

  Not that she loved Maxim. She hardly knew him. But what she knew of him, she liked. Except that he had walked away from her. She found that very pesky.

  “Will you settle with that?” Izzy asked.

  Ceara let her ponytail drop and sat up a little straighter. “You think I can change his mind?” She cocked her head and stared at Izzy. Both women were well versed in the ways of men. They’d each partnered up the first night on Mystic Isle. If she wanted to win Maxim around, they would know how to do it.

  Avery sighed and flopped back on her lounge. “Girl, of course you can change his mind. That’s a woman’s job, to show men what’s good for them. They’re hopelessly dense.”

  “What should I say?” She didn’t even know what room he was in. How would she find him?

  “Let’s hit the sheets,” Izzy said, imitating Ceara’s accent. Then she puckered her ruby red lips and blew Ceara a kiss.

  Ceara laughed. Their ability to make her laugh was one of her favorite things about her new friends.

  “I couldn’t say that. That’s so… bold.”

  “You think he’s going to want a quiet, shy partner? He’s a wolf. He’s dominant. He’s not going to respect weakness,” Avery said.

  Ceara was so surprised by the words that her jaw actually dropped. And from Avery, no less. Practical, easygoing Avery.

  “Ceara is submissive. Not weak.” Izzy defended. Ceara could have hugged her. But Izzy wasn’t really the hugging type. Not like Coco and Avery.

  She didn’t consider herself weak. Or particularly submissive. But what did she know. She’d never been with a man before. And there was only so much one could learn from books and articles. She could practically recite studies and research on sex by all the foremost experts, and yet none of her reading had prepared her for the way Maxim had pulled her in like she was a tiny metal sliver and he, the world’s strongest magnet.

  “He might like submissiveness in bed, but outside of bed, I assure you, werewolf Maxim will want a partner that is his equal. He’s a natural born leader. Strong. Capable. Reliable.”

  Ceara frowned. Avery had several excellent points. All of which Ceara had wondered about during her time with him. He’d held her in her arms, told her to hold on to him. She’d gladly done it. He was so… Alpha. She’d never met anyone quite like him.

  Grayson was very Alpha, but he also struck her as more of a loner. Maxim seemed to command attention from everyone around him. And obviously respect, if the way that demon had backed down was any indication.

  “Ceara can be take-charge,” Izzy said.

  “Take-charge?” she parroted.

  “Bold. Sophisticated.”

  “Do I need to be bold and sophisticated for one night of sex?”

  “Honey, you already are underneath all that shyness. You just need some polish, that’s all,” Avery assured her with a mischievous smile.

  “You have attracted him. Now you must keep his attention, yes?” Izzy said, glancing back and forth between them.

  “I haven’t even gotten past a kiss.” And it wasn’t for lack of desire. He could have had his way with her on the deck beneath the fireworks or on the beach.

  Valencia strode onto the deck like she owned it. Ceara admired that about her. She never seemed flustered by anything going on around her. Ceara rarely met a stranger’s gaze; Valencia could walk into a room full of people she’d never met and introduce herself to them all. More than likely, they’d be tripping over themselves to meet her.

  She was, after all, a Fabelle.

  “What are you girls talking about?”

  “Ceara met a werewolf,” Izzy said.

  “He’s a gentleman,” Avery added, her southern drawl stretching the last word out. Then she made a face, like she was eating a lemon.

  “Some people appreciate good manners.” Ceara rushed to defend him, even though his good manners had left her a ball of quivering desire. Unfulfilled lust. Who would have thought it?

  Valencia nodded, always regal.

  “Good manners is making you come so many times you can’t remember your name, sugar,” Avery said.

  Ceara felt a blush coming on.

  “Absolutely,” Izzy agreed.

  It wasn’t that she’d never had an orgasm, she’d given herself plenty. But the idea of a man being that focused on her, being intimate that long… could a person even forget their name? Without amnesia of course. She’d never heard of a vampire suffering that ailment.

  “So what is,” V said, the s sounding more like a z, “the problem?”

  “He’s being noble,” Avery replied before Ceara could.

  “That’s nice.”

  “Not if she wants to get lucky,” Izzy said, obviously warming to the idea.

  “I’m probably not his type,” Ceara added. Avery was right. He wouldn’t want a shy, mousy woman. Sure, he’d taken pity on her. But—

  “Why ever not?” V asked. The conversation finally interested her enough, because she stretched out on the lounge next to Avery’s.

  “He seems worldly.” And for all her research and studying, Ceara was not worldly. Her parents had insisted that she had plenty of time to see the world. Experience new things. Why rush?

  “What’s his name, maybe I know him,” V said.

  “Maxim. We didn’t share last names.”

  “A werewolf, you said?”

  Ceara nodded.

  “Describe him.”

  Oh gods. What a hardship. Ceara smiled to herself. “Tall. Six foot two, maybe. Broad in the shoulders, lean in the hips. Dark hair. It’s long, unruly, brushing his shirt collar. Dark brown eyes. I bet they change colors in the light. He’s got a small scar just above his left eyebrow and big, warm hands that melt right into you.” She shivered at the memory. “And arms… oh, V. He’s solid muscle.” Not stringy and thin like her father. Built like he worked out for a living. “He’s got this air about him… like I don’t care what you think. Even though he’s really nice.” And protective. And more handsome than any man ought to have the right to be. “He commands respect from others without raising his voice.”

  “Sounds dreamy,” Avery said.

  “Sounds like she is in love with him already,” Izzy added.

  “Sounds like Maxim Ciolek. I think he’s German but moved to Izzy’s homeland. Not far from Estonia.”

  “You’ve met him?”

  “Cherie, I’m over three hundred years old. I’ve met a lot of people, vampire and werewolves alike.”

  Good point.

  “You like him, yes?” Izzy asked. She was taking this
remarkably well.

  Ceara nodded. She did like him. She liked how for brief moments he could completely shut down her inner dialogue to the point where she did nothing but feel. Instead of the constant questioning in her mind, she could live in the moment. He did that to her. Had the power over her that she could scarcely control herself.

  They were all wrong for each other… unless she could find a way out of her shell and become the woman that her covenmates thought her to be.

  But that meant taking charge of her own life. Her own desires. Her own needs. None of which she’d ever done before. Her friends believed she could, though. She glanced at each of them.

  “Let the crash course begin.”

  A scant hour before sunup Ceara found herself standing in front of a dressing room mirror turning this way and that to inspect the brand new bathing suit. Avery and Izzy both agreed that this was The One.

  The black one-piece covered more than the bikinis they’d made her try on, but the deep V-neck left little to the imagination. But they were right. It did wonders for her cleavage. And the ruffles that ran up from her navel, across the cups and then skimmed across her upper arms gave it a definite Spanish flair, which she liked.

  But as they exited the boutique, she’d never felt more naked in her whole life. Men were staring. One ran into a potted fern. She wasn’t any less dressed than Avery or half the other women on the island but she would have liked a wrap or a sarong or something.

  “It’s working,” Avery whispered.

  “Of course it is,” Izzy agreed.

  Before their sprint to find Ceara a swimsuit, Izzy had shoved her toward the bathroom and handed her a razor with orders to shave everything. Ceara was thankful she’d followed Izzy’s advice since the swimsuit cut was almost Brazilian.

  “She’s a knockout,” Avery said, sounding pleased.

  They’d brushed out her hair until it fell around her shoulders in a dark curtain. At least that part of her was covered. And thank goodness the island was always warm; otherwise she’d be seriously chilled at this point.

  “Who knew? Underneath all those… jumpers.” Izzy’s lip curled with distaste, and Ceara laughed.

  “Why don’t we go shopping when we get home?” Avery asked.

  “And burn her jumpers?” Izzy asked.

  “That works for me,” Ceara said.

  Her foot snagged on something and she went flying forward. She started to spin and right herself, but strong arms caught and immobilized her. Wrenching her head around, she stared up into warm, brown eyes.

  “Maxim?” His name came out on a sigh of disbelief.

  “Ceara?”

  Was it just her imagination or did he squeeze her and lift her closer? He held her there for several seconds before the corners of that kissable mouth turned upward.

  “Falling for me already?” he asked.

  She glanced over at her friends. At their retreating backs, rather. So this was a setup.

  She licked her lips. “Looks that way.” Yes, yes, definitely yes her insides screamed. For the first time in her life her fangs itched to sink into flesh. More specifically, his strong, lickable neck.

  Gently, he set her back on her feet but didn’t remove his hands from her waist. She was acutely aware of how little clothing she wore. And how thin the material of the swimsuit actually was. The heat of his hands seared her sides and she greedily soaked up the warmth.

  Seeing him again so soon hadn’t been part of the plan. She’d wanted more tutelage with the girls. They had real life experience where all she had was book knowledge. Somehow she didn’t think a man like Maxim would be impressed with her text book version of a blowjob.

  The thought sent color to her cheeks and she could tell by the flick of his eyes that he saw it. “Thank you for catching me.”

  “No problem.” He cocked his head and studied her. “You seem to need rescuing rather often.” She felt naked under his gaze, as if he could see every little flaw. “Perhaps I shouldn’t let you out of my sight.”

  Her breath caught at the suggestion. “I thought you said we couldn’t be together.” She didn’t want to set herself up for disappointment. It was important to know the facts, all the facts, going in. Before she got in too deep.

  With those gorgeous brown eyes… oh, she could easily drown. She knew, just by feeling his strength, that he was a powerful man. One glance told her that he was cunning and watchful, all seeing. And yes, he was probably as lethal as she assumed him to be.

  But that wasn’t what made him dangerous. The fact that she could easily stand here all night, sheltered in his arms, lost in his gaze… a woman could lose hours if not years of her life.

  He rubbed his right thumb against her side. The movement was small in the scheme of touches, but what made it special was that such a simple and innocent caress could make her breath catch. And leave her wanting so much more.

  “A man can change his mind.”

  “And if I’ve changed mine?”

  He pulled her closer and the words that followed were almost a growl. A deliciously, sexy growl that made her insides melt.

  “Then I’ll change it back.”

  Chapter Six

  “I should tell you, you have your work cut out for you,” Sierra said, her voice soft and lyrical.

  Maxim pulled her flush against him so she could feel his hardness. Crass, he knew. But he also wasn’t above playing dirty. And he had a hunch that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. “Is that right?”

  The corners of her mouth turned upward and she shook her head. “Not at all.”

  A second ticked by and she laughed. He joined in and then grabbed her hand. Pulling her along at a brisk pace, he headed for the penthouse’s private elevator. This time, instead of pushing the button for the top floor, he would push her buttons. He started by pulling her into his arms. She came willingly, her breasts and hips molding against him. He ran his hands down her sides, scarcely able to control the urge to peel the sexy black swimsuit off her body.

  A brief flash of imagery entered his mind. Her up against the far wall, her head tossed back, one leg hiked up over his hips. He slid her bathing suit to the side and had his pants unzipped, cock out, fucking her sweet pussy while she threaded her fingers through his hair, whispering his name over and over as they soared upward. They came just as the car reached his room. Breathing hard, they didn’t even separate as the doors slid open. He simply lifted her, his cock still buried deep, and stepped off the elevator.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, her lips millimeters from his.

  The soft feminine tone pulled him back from his X-rated thoughts.

  She stared up at him with concern in her violet eyes, and her silky hair tickled his fingers as it rained down her back. She seemed a little breathless and that made him smile. “Everything’s fine.” He flexed his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips, assuring himself that she was real. Not a dream. “Better than fine. You make me lose my head.”

  He didn’t like admitting how much she got to him, but it was true. And she was so young, so inexperienced, she could use the reassurance. She certainly wasn’t the type to use it against him. At least, he didn’t think so. But a few hours had changed her. She seemed more alive. Bolder now.

  One thing was certain, the gym shorts and T-shirt she’d been wearing when he met her didn’t measure up against her current attire. Not that he planned on letting her wear it much longer.

  He couldn’t wait to tug the straps down her arms, reveal her breasts. She stared up at him, her big violet eyes going soft and dreamy, reminding him that he needed to go slow with her. But werewolves were not used to going slow when it came to sex. But for her, he would. He’d find the strength to rein in the wolf and treat her like a treasure.

  And maybe if he was lucky she’d let him back into her mind so he could hear her thoughts, read her mind, and learn what she was really thinking. Feeling. She had moments of utter transparency, like on the rooftop, w
atching the fireworks. But the next minute she would be closed off, a shell erected around her. He didn’t want anything separating them. Not clothing. Not ghosts from her past. Not insecurity. When he took her, he wanted her completely bared to him.

  Taking a deep breath, he slid his hands back up her sides, memorizing every inch as he went. Then he cupped her cheeks and kissed her softly. Her lips were cool beneath his, firm yet supple. She slid her fingertips up his chest and fisted his shirt in her hands. Clinging to him, her lashes fluttered closed. She kissed him back, tentatively.

  He teased the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue. For a heartbeat, she was completely still. Then she opened for him and he lost himself in the wetness of her mouth. Her tongue touched his, slowly, shyly at first. Then, with more force.

  He massaged her lower back with one hand, urging her closer. She might be young, but her body obviously needed no coaching. He groaned when she nipped his lower lip. Her tongue immediately soothed the pain.

  He severed the kiss and tipped his forehead against hers. Hell. He was out of breath. He was never out of breath.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, kissing his lip.

  “Don’t --”

  He felt the elevator stop, tipping him forward, and heard the doors open. Vaguely he thought to get off, but the woman in his arms thrust her fingers through his hair, driving him temporarily mad.

  “Sierra,” he warned. “I’m trying to slow things down.”

  Trying and failing, the wolf snarled, ready to bend her over the nearest horizontal surface and fuck her until they both passed out.

  “I don’t want to go slow. I’m tired of living in slow motion.” Her words rang in his ears and his lust-filled brain tried to compute them. But she didn’t wait. No, she hopped up, chest against chest and wrapped her legs around his hips. The crotch of her swim suit slid against his cock, spurring him into action.

  Hands beneath her ass, he stepped off the elevator and headed for the bedroom. Holding on tight, she aimed her mouth at his and kissed him deeply. Hot open-mouthed kisses that blew his mind and quickened his pace.