Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
S tella and Ethan took the same bedroom they’d had the one and only time they’d slept at the wolf den: the tiny supply room—sometimes crash pad—on the far side of the kitchen. The hollow core door was still missing its doorknob, and Ethan easily pushed it open.
He felt around for the light switch and flipped it on, revealing the two walls of wire shelving filled with canned goods, cleaning supplies, and paper towels. Not much had changed in the last several months; however, the twin mattress had actual sheets on it this time, plus two pillows, so that was a notable upgrade.
“Are you mad?” Stella asked.
“Mad?” he asked, confused. He didn’t know what was more exhausted, his body or his mind. “About what?”
“About coming here,” she explained. “Did I offend you by saying I didn’t feel safe at home?”
Ethan had to think about that for a second, still not sure if he was tracking. “Are you asking if my male pride was bruised when you suggested we stay at the den?”
“I didn’t mean to suggest you couldn’t protect me,” she said quickly.
“Or that you couldn’t protect me? ” he asked, finally catching on. “We take care of each other, Red.”
“I know, but?—”
“ But we don’t know what the Collector is preparing to unleash. There’s safety in numbers—more safety anyway—and we both need our sleep. I know I’ll sleep better knowing there’s a night watch and that we aren’t going to be caught off guard while unconscious.”
Stella seemed persuaded. She wriggled out of his suit jacket—the one she’d been drowning in since they’d gone to Cambridge—and Ethan helped her with the zipper on her dress.
As for himself, he was already half-undressed in just his pinstripe pants. He’d left his bloodied shirt with Jade, and he must have lost his hat while running for the car.
“How are your feet?” he asked, pushing off his pants. He stepped out of them.
“My feet?” She furrowed her brow and peeled her dress down her body.
The red satin pooled on the floor. Ethan tried to ignore how much it reminded him of the puddle of blood behind Jade’s head.
“You’ve been running barefoot ever since we left the hotel,” he reminded her. He folded his pants and set them on a shelf.
“Oh.” Her voice went up a little, as if she’d forgotten all about her long-lost shoes.
Ethan found her surprise cute. She was cute. Powerful, of course. Sometimes reckless. Often disorganized. Smart. Caring. Passionate. But also cute.
Stella sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled her foot into her lap to check the sole. It was a filthy charcoal gray.
“A little nicked,” she said, “but otherwise fine. Must have been all the adrenaline. After we caught up to Hurley, I never felt a thing.”
“How about now?” He crouched in front of her, took her bare foot in his hands, and squeezed, gently massaging the arch.
Something soft flitted across her face. “I feel a lot, Ethan. But not in my feet.”
“Yeah,” he said. He felt it too. Whenever they were alone together, the aether of their paired magic swelled to overflowing. “You need a shower before you get into bed.”
“Even that bed?” She glanced down at the ancient mattress. “I really doubt it’ll mat?—”
“How ‘bout this?” he asked. “I want to shower with you before we call it a night.”
Her eyes snapped back to him. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Oh.”
“I thought you were tired,” she said. “Don’t you want to sleep?”
“I’m sure after I’ve fucked you, I’ll sleep like the dead.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “After you’ve fucked me?”
He smiled. “You got a problem with that?”
She pretended to consider that, even going so far as to tap her finger against her chin. Again, cute .
“I guess not,” she admitted.
“Good.”
“I’ll go see about towels.”
“I’ll go with you.” He rose to standing, took her hand, and pulled her up off the mattress.
“Uh…” Stella stopped and looked down at herself, then at him. She was in her matching red lace bra and panties and nothing more. He was in his boxer briefs. “Should I put my dress back on before we go out there?”
Ethan snorted. “The wolves walk around naked all the time. No one will blink twice at our underwear.”
“Yeah,” she said contemplatively. “You’re probably right.”
Still, she ducked behind him as they made their way back to the main den.
The place was mostly cleared out except for Chelsea, the only she-wolf who engaged in combat and who, more than once, had fought alongside them. She was reading a magazine in front of the fire.
“Chels,” Stella said. “Any chance you could point us toward some bath towels?”
Chelsea whipped her head in their direction, her black ponytail flipping over her shoulder. “In the hallway cupboard, just outside the bathroom.”
“Where’s Max?” Ethan asked. He’d rarely seen Chelsea and her mate apart.
“He’s on patrol tonight with Peter. I’m waiting up for their shift to be over.”
“Just the two of them out there?” Ethan asked, glancing toward the door. After the night he’d had, two sentries didn’t seem like enough, and he’d hate for anything bad to happen to Max. Or to any of them, for that matter.
“No,” Chelsea said. “Roman’s got plenty of pack patrolling the perimeter, but Peter and Max are partnered.”
Ethan couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “Now do ‘she sells seashells by the seashore.’”
Chelsea’s brow furrowed. “ What? ”
“Ignore him,” Stella said. “He’s bone tired.”
She tugged on his arm, leading him toward the hallway and adding a hasty, “Thanks,” to Chelsea.
All of this just made Ethan want to laugh harder. Maybe Stella was right and he was more exhausted than he realized.
They stopped at the cupboard to grab two towels, then ducked inside the bathroom. Someone must have just taken a shower because the room was already filled with steam.
“I hope they left us some hot water,” Stella grumbled.
“I don’t think you’ll be cold,” Ethan said.
He assumed she’d get his innuendo, and she didn’t disappoint. Her eyelids lowered to half-mast, and she leaned back against the bathroom counter.
Ethan stripped out of his boxer briefs, flipped on the shower, then returned to Stella.
She drew him into her, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead against the center of his chest.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he asked.
She nodded, still with her head against his chest, and he reached around her to unclasp her bra.
They stepped apart, and it fell to the floor. Stella hooked her fingers into the elastic around her waist and wriggled out of her panties.
Together, they eased under the water, her back to his front, and he soaped up his hands. He ran them over her breasts, then over the soft curve of her stomach, moving lower.
She turned in his arms, squeezed shampoo into her hand and lathered his hair.
That done and rinsed, she turned toward the shower wall and bent her knee, exposing the bottom of one foot. Ethan gently washed it, laughing when he found a ticklish spot, and she flinched.
With the second foot done, they stopped long enough to stare into each other’s eyes.
He thought about the first time they’d met at his fundraiser. The way she looked, crossing the crowded floor to him, the way she bit the corner of her lip, and the way her gaze slid over his face and hair.
He now knew she’d been on a mission that night, but maybe he’d been on one too. He’d been alone for so long, trying to find meaning in his ambitions and his love for the city. He’d always known something was missing, and it went well beyond the parents he’d lost. Or thought he’d lost.
In retrospect, he’d somehow known Stella held answers for him, answers to questions he’d been too ignorant to ask.
Now, he needed to be there for her because ever since learning her father was behind so much misery, she’d hadn’t been the same. Sure, she’d put on a brave face, but he’d noticed the change.
His soapy hands drifted down over her ass, and he squeezed.
She leaned into him. “That feels nice.”
Ethan wanted her. Just as she wanted him. But maybe not now. Maybe all they needed was this. Touch. Comfort. Reassurance.
He palmed the side of her breast and swiped his thumb over her nipple, testing the waters, so to speak.
She leaned into him even more, giving him her full weight.
“Am I a terrible person?” she asked, her voice small.
“Red. Babe ,” Ethan said. “Why would you even ask something like that?”
“Because David Hurley died tonight, and all I can think is how badly I want you to make love to me.”
“Stella,” he said, and he hoped she could hear the empathy in his voice.
“A man died,” she said, “and I’ve barely given him any thought. All I could think about was myself. What I was going to do next. How I was going to get us home safe. But you… You felt the weight of that moment, like any decent person would. You’d realized we couldn’t— shouldn’t —leave his body alone and exposed. I can’t help but wonder if I’m pathologically selfish and uncaring.”
She didn’t say, like my father . But all the same, Ethan heard the worry in her voice.
“Our magic may be paired,” he said, keeping his voice low while he caressed her shoulders. “But you don’t really know what I’m thinking.”
“I know that not that long ago, you were joking about fucking me. But your good sense has won out, as it always does.”
“My good sense?” What was she going on about? His cock couldn’t be harder than it was right now. Did that strike her as good sense?
“You’ve mellowed out. Don’t get me wrong. I like the feel of your hands on my body. It’s sweet. It feels amazing. And it’s clearly the better way to act on a night like this.”
“It was a terrible night,” he agreed. “And I do feel the impact of all that went down. But you’re wrong if you think I don’t want to fuck this day away.”
“You mean make love,” she said, probably still trying to strike the right mood for the occasion, but Ethan couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.
“You can’t ‘make love this day away,’” he said. “The grammar doesn’t work. Plus, ‘fuck’ just sounds so much better.”
She slapped at his chest, but not too hard.
He grabbed her wrist, then lifted it over her head as he pressed her back to the shower wall, hoping to make himself absolutely clear.
“So, what do you say?” he asked. “No disrespect to the loss of life, but do I make this day go away for the both of us, at least for a while?”
“If you can do that,” she said, “you really are magic.”
“You doubt me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
A beat passed between them, the only sound being the heavy spray of water.
“Never,” she said, and she rose up on her toes to kiss him.
Ethan let out a groan at the taste of her, and he braced himself against the wall to keep from crushing her against it.
Her tongue moved against his, creating a kiss that had to be intentionally designed to suck the soul right out of him. It was then he understood the depth of her distress.
Sure, he’d thought he understood it before. But now…
“Ethan,” she murmured before sliding her lips to the underside of his jaw, and down his throat.
He hadn’t shaved in nearly forty-eight hours. He’d figured the dark stubble would enhance his gangster costume, though now it wasn’t doing Stella any favors. He knew from experience that his scruff would rub her lips and skin raw.
He pulled away and looked down into her eyes.
She tenderly cupped his cheek.
He turned his head and kissed her palm, then bent, grabbed her behind the knees, and hoisted her up.
Stella wrapped her arms and legs around his body as he slowly lowered her down over his shaft.
“I need you,” she pleaded while smoothing her thumb over the tense muscle in his jaw.
“If you can’t tell,” he said, “you already have me.”
“Oh, believe me ,” she said. “I can tell. As cocks go, yours is pretty remarkable.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Ethan thrust into her, grinding his hips against hers, and his weight pressed her tight against the shower wall.
Stella winced.
“Jesus!” He pulled back. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she said, and though she laughed a little, the corners of her eyes were still tight.
“What is it?” he asked.
“When I jumped out the window, I landed on my feet, but staggered and rammed my back against the corner of the house. I think I got some bruises. But it’s okay.”
“It’s not.” Did she really think he was okay with her being in pain?
“I don’t want you to stop,” she said.
Ethan reached up into the spray of water and harnessed it, swirling it into a four-inch thick sheet of water that held its shape. He settled it behind Stella’s back, cushioning her from the wall.
“Better?” he asked.
“Better,” she said, and her wide gray eyes glazed over with a lust Ethan felt deep in his balls.
He pressed into her again, and she tightened her legs around his waist. He thrust in, and though her head flew back, the cushion of water absorbed most of the impact.
Red and blue magic flowed out of them, tinting the water a vibrant shade of purple, as Ethan thrust into her, wishing there were a way to get even deeper with each stroke he took.
She clawed at his back and panted into his mouth. The beauty of the moment overwhelmed him, but then she pushed him even higher, using her internal muscles to squeeze him so tight he thought he might pass out.
God, she looked so sexy. So powerful. So…magic.
Ethan reached between them with one hand and pressed his thumb against her clit. “You gotta come for me. Keep squeezing my cock like a vise, then I want to feel your sweet aftershocks ripple up and down my shaft.”
“Jesus, Ethan.”
“Can you do that for me, Red? Because I’m not going to last much longer.”
He rolled his thumb against that tiny nub, and Stella let out a whimper.
“Can you?” he asked, pressing more firmly.
“God, yes!”
And Stella wasn’t lying. Ethan could feel her riding the edge of her climax.
“That’s it,” he said. “Fuck, that’s it.”
He lifted her an inch and bounced her on his cock, swirling his thumb against her clit until she let out a scream that Ethan quickly smothered with his mouth.
His balls constricted, then his cock emptied into her.
Stella moaned with pleasure, and her body went slack as Ethan continued to hold her, now rocking their bodies sweetly as their mutual orgasms slowly tapered off.
She pushed the wet hair off his forehead, and he reveled in the fact he was still deep inside her.
“All better?” she asked.
“I’m ruined,” he said.
A part of Ethan wanted to sleep for a week, while another more feral part of him wanted to keep erasing their day.
Stella shook her head and laughed, the sound of which made Ethan moan because her laugh was a turn-on, and— god damn —his cock was hardening again.
She must have felt it, because her laugh turned off like a switch. “Maybe we should take this back to the bed.”
“Maybe we should,” he agreed.
So they did.
And then they slept.