Chapter 12
Georgia
In the arms of a dangerous beast.
I had no idea why the saying had continually run through my mind while Ford had driven me home. Other than that since his outburst about what he’d assumed were my thoughts, a hundred questions had run through my mind about shifters.
How often did he shift and was it painful? My God, it had to be. Bones breaking. Fur sprouting. Jaws of steel replacing lips and teeth.
Did he prefer being a wolf? I would think so given how much he loved playing hockey.
And even ridiculous questions like wondering if he and his family had taken shifter vacations together.
As if that mattered or was possible. Then again, I had no clue what was plausible and what wasn’t.
How did a kid born with wolf blood running through his veins deal with being truly different than others in his class?
The questions lingered, waiting to be asked and answered, yet the longer I was around him and away from his egotistical world, the less they mattered.
Their lagging importance had only a small part to do with the passion we’d shared less than thirty minutes before and more to do with Ford’s slow but deliberate ability to drop his guard.
Allowing me to see the complicated, messy, yet emotionally strong man underneath.
Hearing the horrible news regarding the murder of a shifter troubled me more than I’d wanted to let on. I sensed his anger brimming below the surface, vibrations that had likely carried over into the scene in the bathroom.
He had a love for his family that was stronger than I’d ever seen, even more so than I’d had growing up with only my parents by my side.
During the drive, the conversation had been light, him explaining what locations I needed to visit in North Bend, what food I should taste, and what I could expect while watching the playoffs intriguing.
But not nearly as much as the swelling feelings that could become crippling if I wasn’t careful.
As many times as I’d told myself I’d stay away from men altogether or only enjoy them on my terms, that promise had already been tossed aside.
Surrendering to the passion didn’t bother me nearly as much as the strong, virulent connection that almost compelled me into feeling uncontrollable hunger.
We’d both experienced the same strange sense of awkward desire in the close quarters of his truck. Even though I’d kept myself pushed against the passenger door and he’d kept his hands to himself, the pull between us had remained fueled.
Now he was walking with me toward my house, determined to ensure I got inside safely. His hands were in his pockets, a full eight inches of air space between us, yet the pull was growing stronger with every step taken.
My hand was shaking as I slipped the key into the lock and once I’d opened the door, thankful I’d left on a light, I’d become determined to let him go.
And never to speak of the incident again.
The hot and heavy sex had bene nothing more but a blip in time, two people feeding unhinged hunger.
However, I refused to call what had happened a mistake.
We were both adults. We’d known what we were getting ourselves in the middle of, the line that would be crossed and the ramifications of doing so anyway.
So here we were, uncertain how best to end the night when it felt as if neither one of us wanted that to happen.
After tossing my bag onto the floor, I pressed my back against the open door, forced to lift my head simply to be able to look him in the eyes.
He was even more handsome without his gear, if that was possible.
Gone was the heavy arrogance fueled by his chiseled jaw and cold, cutting stares.
While the Wolfman was part of him, there was also a spark of mischief, one that refused to let anything go.
Or maybe he was only that way around me.
“Thank you for bringing me home,” I said, doing nothing more than trying to fill the void.
“Sure. I certainly couldn’t allow you to walk on the street alone at night. Not when there are big, bad wolves out there.” He had his hand over me on the wooden door, leaning in while remaining completely in control of his space and mine.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You act incensed when anyone questions their safety around shifters but suggest I should fear them without you being present. Which one is it?”
“Maybe both. Maybe I just want to protect you. Is that so wrong?”
If he only knew how many times I’d wished I’d had a man to protect me, finally believing there were no chivalrous men left in the world. When we were this close, it usually felt as if I could jump out of my skin, but right now, I felt at ease with him. As if he already knew everything about me.
Or as if we belonged together, which was completely crazy, more unhinged than fucking in a locked bathroom in a sleazy hole in the wall bar.
I was obviously comfortable enough to slip the tip of my finger through the open V of his henley shirt.
The simple touch of his heated skin seared my fingertip, but I craved touching him.
I needed to, as if he’d become the air required to breathe.
His was more labored, his gaze falling ever so slowly to the task I was performing. “There’s nothing wrong with a man longing to protect a woman as long as it’s for the right reasons and she doesn’t find out she should have been protected from him.”
Ford didn’t move a muscle, allowing me to take my time caressing his skin. I could feel the ache burning deeply within him, much like my core remained on fire. This was a crossroads and something told me if the wrong road was taken, the consequences would be severe.
All the rules of common sense and those of self-preservation should come into play. If I closed the door, there would never be another intimate moment shared. If I didn’t…
The ache was real, a painful reminder I was very much still a woman, Hoffman incapable of beating it out of me. But I was fractured, maybe completely broken inside and for me, sex didn’t just mean an act of passion, but one of dominance. I feared losing myself more than anything else.
Which was why I stepped inside, placing my hand on the door. His look of disappointment was as painful as sending him away, but it had to be done. I couldn’t trust myself, so how could I trust anyone else?
“Thank you for a nice evening.” I couldn’t look him in the eyes right away, forcing myself as he took a deep breath. When I did, he’d already turned his head.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for what you did tonight. That meant a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
How many awkward moments would we share from here, how many what-if questions might we experience? Or was I simply reading too much into what had happened between us?
With another deep, almost angry sigh, Ford backed away, nodding just one as he looked at me longingly. But he was allowing me to choose instead of the other way around.
Only when he disappeared from view did I start to close the door, but even before the latch hit the doorjamb, something escaped from deep inside.
A feeling.
A set of emotions.
An unrequited need that refused to be denied.
My mind was a blur, my vision foggy, yet one thing was made very clear.
I didn’t want this to be the end. Instead, a beginning.
What was wrong with me? I didn’t know. I couldn’t fathom why the man had affected me with absolute ferocity. Like a lion would.
Or a wolf.
Completely predatory and possessive. I was caught in a limbo of longing and fear, yet the desire that had been pooling in my system, igniting my core was winning. And I was thrilled at the thought of letting go.
If only for one night.
I threw open the door, peering into the night. “Ford. Wait.”
He appeared as if he’d been hovering just behind the parameters of the exterior light. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. Wait,” I mused, throwing out my hand. “No, that’s not right. Everything is. Everything is wrong and the only person who can make it right is you.”
Maybe I should have added the words ‘for now,’ or maybe I assumed he’d realize what I’d meant. Whatever the case, there was no turning back now.
His eyes searched mine, his body language changing and I finally nodded to tell him I wasn’t kidding.
He rushed toward me, backing me into the house as he gathered me into his arms, kicking the door shut with his foot. Every time he used any force, the building shook or the people around us noticed.
How he’d handled the men who’d manhandled me had been foolish, an action that could have gotten out of hand and potentially even gotten him kicked off the team.
That was if the assholes were stupid enough to file assault charges.
While I had no doubt they’d been more interested in challenging the wolf versus being interested in me, I doubt they’d be so stupid as to admit they’d been bested in three seconds flat to anyone.
Even though I didn’t condone physical violence of any kind, the fact he’d taken up for me without question would forever linger in my soul. Another clear sign the man wasn’t simply all about brawn and bravado.
His lips crushed mine, his tongue finding the depths of my mouth even as he backed me further into the cozy living room.
We were all hands and desire, my fingers rolling over his shoulders while his massive hands cupped my buttocks.
The taste of him was incredible, pushing limits of decency I hadn’t known existed.
I wasn’t a tiny girl by any means, but he made me feel so protected, as if nothing and no one could ever get to me.
Yet at the same time a different level of vulnerability existed when I was with him, but one that wouldn’t be admonished or made fun of.
And my God, the man could kiss like no other, dominating my tongue in a way that boosted the rush of adrenaline. I’d never felt this excited around a man before.