Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CARTER
Three hours later, after a trip to the department store and grabbing takeout pizza, Rose and I stand in her kitchen sipping cans of soda while Dria watches TV in the living room.
“I should get going. It’s getting late,” I say, tipping back my can and glancing at the darkening sky beyond the window, streetlamps flickering on in golden halos.
Or we could stay. We’re already planning to sleep outside.
“And leave me here alone with a teenage werewolf?” Rose laughs, eyes crinkling as she shakes her head. “No way. You got me into this mess.”
“Leave you? You’re the one who charmed her. I’m just in the way.” I crush my empty can in one hand, drop it in the recycling, then gather up the paper plates and pizza box.
“You’re not in the way,” she says softly, twisting a lock of hair around her finger, gaze fixed on the can in her other hand. “I’ve enjoyed your company. Even if it did almost get me mauled.”
“From what I recall, you voluntarily locked yourself in a broom closet and then accosted a teenage wolf shifter who’s highly emotional and volatile.
” A smirk tugs at my mouth. If only I’d been there to diffuse the situation—but thankfully, the witch had been quick on her feet and even quicker with her magic.
Our witch.
“When you put it that way.” A loud snore drifts from the living room, and we both glance at the teen sprawled on the couch, the television murmuring in the background. “It was a pretty rash decision on my part.”
“It was a very bad idea.” I step closer, needing to be near her, needing to brush against her.
Mine.
Her breath hitches, and she looks up at me, nodding before whispering, “Yes, a very bad idea.”
I could think of some other bad ideas we could try.
“Why did you do it? You knew you were putting yourself in danger.” My gaze drops to her wrist, where a faint bruise and scratches mar her skin—marks I hadn’t noticed in the bustle of the afternoon. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, my jaw tightening until my teeth ache. “She hurt you.”
Fuck, my voice is too deep, too rough. I’m on a razer’s edge—every instinct screaming to shift, to protect my mate—logic slipping further out of reach.
“Carter, it’s okay. No need to go all wolfie on me.” She lifts her wrist slightly, dismissing it with a small shake of her head. “It was an accident. I put myself there knowing exactly what I was dealing with. She was just… afraid.”
I lightly brush her wrist and step back, staring at the claws sharpened to lethal points at the tips of my fingers. I’d never lost control like this before.
Rose was fine. It was an accident.
“Carter?” She steps forward just as Ginger darts between us. She stumbles, her soda can flying from her hand and dousing us in sticky brown liquid before she collides with my chest.
She tilts her head back and bursts out laughing, her cream shirt plastered to her skin. Every nerve in my body ignites, fire beneath the cold spill, as I stare down at her.
Kitty deserves an extra treat for that.
“Shh,” I murmur into her hair, tightening my arms around her while my gaze flicks to the still-sleeping form on the couch. “You don’t want to know what happens if you wake a sleeping wolf.”
“Is that so?” Her brow arches as she looks over her shoulder, then back up at me, eyes dancing. “Well, we’d better get cleaned up before we risk disturbing her.”
I scoop her into my arms, her muffled giggles vibrating against my chest as I carry her into the other room. Setting her gently on the cool bathroom tile, I reach around her in the close space, push open the glass shower door, and twist the knob.
“I’ll just go clean up,” I say, turning toward the door—but Rose’s warm hand lands on my arm. I stop, meeting her gaze as she turns me back.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes bright with something more than happiness—lust. She rises on her toes and presses a soft kiss to my cheek, her lips lingering. I inhale her sweet berry-and-cream scent, my hands finding her waist almost instinctively.
We stand there for what feels like an eternity, suspended in a moment neither of us dares break.
“Carter,” she says quietly, almost sheepish before her gaze lifts boldly to mine. “There’s room for two.”
It’s all the permission I need. I pull her against me, one hand sliding up beneath her shirt to the small of her back, the other curling into the hair at the nape of her neck as I claim her sweet lips with mine.
Her lashes flutter shut, mouth parting, and it takes everything I have not to consume her here and now on the bathroom floor.
She deserves more than a hurried romp on cold tile, and I won’t risk scaring her away.
I break the kiss, both of us breathless, my forehead resting against hers as I hold her close, her heartbeat hammering against my chest. The tug inside me tightens, undeniable.
“That was—” she begins, voice trembling, but I silence her with another kiss, sealing her to me, branding her into my very soul.
“Hush, let’s get you clean. Hands up.” My voice comes out gruff as I grip the hem of her shirt. She obeys instantly, lifting her arms so I can tug the soaked cotton over her head and toss it aside. The silk bra beneath clings to her curves, each breath drawing my eyes lower, slower.
My palms trail down her sides, savoring every dip and rise until I reach her waist. Dropping to one knee, I ease her pants down. She steadies herself with her hands on my shoulders, her skin flushed, body trembling as I free her from the damp fabric.
The steam builds, filling the bathroom with warmth, wrapping us in it. Her blush deepens as I look up at her, soda-slick hair falling into my eyes.
“You’re not getting in the shower fully clothed, are you?” she teases, tugging at the neck of my shirt.
Instead of answering, I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh. Her breath catches, a soft moan slipping free as her fingers dig into my shoulders, eyelids fluttering shut.
“No,” I murmur against her skin, letting a wolfish grin tug at my lips, “but I’m not done helping you.
” I trail slow kisses higher, my hands sliding up the backs of her thighs to cup her smooth, rounded bottom.
Nuzzling against the cool satin of her panties, I draw a gasp from her lips as her knees buckle slightly beneath her.
“Carter,” she moans as I hook my fingers under the elastic band, pulling them down to reveal smooth, bare skin.
“Fuck, I love how you say my name,” I whisper against her center, burying my head between her thighs. She melts under my touch like molten chocolate to a flame, her head thudding back against the bathroom wall.
“I want…” I nip at her inner thigh, and she gasps, legs trembling as she squeezes them together. I lift one over my shoulder for better access, admiring her spread before me—my own personal dessert.
I want you.
“More?” I pull back, and she whimpers.
“Please.”
“As you wish.” I feast on my little witch as she moans, her fingers scraping along my scalp. She’s so close—I can smell her arousal, feel her body tensing. It’s better than I ever dreamed in all these months apart. “Goddess, I love the way you taste. The way you smell.”
“Carter, I’m close,” she whimpers, and I’m more than happy to oblige, sliding a finger inside her.
“Take what you need,” I growl against her sensitive flesh as she rocks her hips. I slip a second finger in, my dick straining hard against my jeans.
Her back arches as she moans, clenching around my fingers. The air vibrates with magic, bottles and accessories floating before crashing back down onto the counter.
“Carter, that was—” I silence her with a kiss as I stand, deftly reaching behind to unsnap her bra. Turning her toward the shower, I give her bare ass a tap.
Torture. Now take her and give her what she really needs. Mark her as ours so everyone knows.
“Time to clean up.” I strip off my shirt, admiring the fresh scratch marks across my shoulders. She steps into the shower, eyes glossy with lust and satisfaction as she watches me.
I make quick work of my jeans and follow her in. She reaches for me, but I catch her wrists in my hands. “Not tonight.”
“But—” Her brows furrow as her gaze drops, but I ignore the protest, reaching past her for the loofah and soap.
“It’s been a long day, and tomorrow will be even longer, figuring out what to do with the girl.” I run the loofah over her smooth, pale skin, brushing her long hair aside as I wash her from neck to toe. My hands follow after, massaging her muscles, lingering over her calves and back.
“You’re right.” She sighs, leaning her head back against me, her spine pressed to my chest as my soapy hand slides across her breast and pinches her nipple lightly. She gasps, and I nip at her neck without breaking the skin as my other hand slips between her thighs.
“But perhaps you deserve one more, for being such a good girl,” I whisper against the shell of her ear. I slide two fingers inside her, pumping leisurely as I caress one breast, then the other. My dick is rock hard, pressed between us, but I ignore its throbbing.
“Carter,” she pants, her hips rocking as I quicken my pace, my free hand gliding up to gently encircle the front of her throat.
I tip her head back against my shoulder until her body tenses and release overtakes her.
She turns, and I trace my thumb along her bottom lip, her tongue darting out to taste her arousal before I hungrily claim her mouth, pressing her against the shower wall.
We break apart, and I make quick work of rinsing down while she catches her breath, her eyes never leaving me.
I turn off the water, and we both dry off before heading into the bedroom—when I remember Alexandria asleep on the couch.
Fuck. The whole reason we were pulled back together in the first place is this mission. I only hope our ruckus hasn’t woken her—or worse, scared her off. The last thing I need is to explain to her parents how we found her and then lost her.
“I’ll see you in the morning?” I ask, scooping up my clothes from the floor.
“You’re not going out in sticky, soda-soaked clothes in the middle of the night,” she says, one hand on her hip.
“Last I checked, I didn’t bring a change of clothes—and you already have one houseguest.” I gesture toward the closed bedroom door.
“Last I checked, we’re both consenting adults, and I have a king-size bed. Plus, you already said tomorrow’s going to be a long day. Go throw your clothes in the washer and come to bed. I promise to behave.” She points down the hall.
What if I promise not to behave?
“Rosemary…” I protest, though my resolve is slipping fast. It’s one thing to make her feel good and then spend the night outside guarding her. It’s an entirely different test of will to lie beside her in bed. Either way, I’m not planning on getting much sleep.
She drops her towel with a shrug and walks away—her ass, a perfect curve that could give the moon a run for its money, swaying as she bends to pull a cream silk nightdress from the dresser and slips it over her head.
Why that little witch.
She crawls under the covers on the right side of the bed, patting the empty space beside her with a smirk. “I thought you were a wolf, not a chicken.”
She’s going to be the death of me.