“Wait. Are you actually doing a riff on
Little Red Riding Hood
?”
“I suppose you’re tired of hearing
Little Red Riding Hood
jokes.”
“Well, no woman has ever known what I am, so I don’t get too much of it.”
“Then it’s about time you had to deal with
Little Red Riding Hood
jokes.” She continued to fondle him. “After all, we are in the middle of a forest, and you are a big bad wolf.”
“You are so right. And do you know what big bad wolves do to little red-haired girls like you?”
She laughed. “No.”
He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand out of his pants. “They eat them right up.” His reflexes had always been excellent, and before she completely understood his intent, he’d reversed direction and had a knee on either side of her shoulders and his head between her thighs.
“Roarke!”
Her startled exclamation told him she hadn’t expected him to deliver on his morning promise. But deliver he would. He’d had soup for his main course at lunch, and now he’d enjoy some dessert.
He started by using his tongue, and she tasted better than cherries jubilee and chocolate mousse combined. He vowed to sample this treat more often . . . and then realized that he wouldn’t have many more opportunities to nestle between her legs and feast like this. He’d better enjoy it while he could.
From his first contact with her moist treasures, she’d begun to whimper and moan. Thank God for harmonica music, because he wanted to hear more of those sweet sounds of hers. Scooping his hands under her bottom, he lifted her toward his eager mouth and delved deeper.
He was so involved in loving her that at first he didn’t realize that a second event was beginning at her end of the tent. But when her warm fingers wrapped around his cock, which she had freed from his clothes, he stilled.
“Little Red Riding Hood has an appetite, too,” she murmured.
If he hadn’t been crazy about this woman before, he was now. With a groan of joyful surrender, he lowered his hips and felt her warm tongue and hot mouth rise to meet his throbbing penis.
After that he had a little trouble concentrating, but he was determined not to come until he felt the jolt of her climax roll through her. More than once he thought he might lose that battle because she had a real talent for this erotic game. But then her thighs began to quiver, and her cries became more breathless. He had her.
She came gloriously, and he feasted on the bounty of her orgasm until . . . oh . . . yes . . .
yes.
The urgent pressure of her mouth and tongue destroyed the last of his willpower and he let go. He wanted to yell as she drank him in, but he didn’t dare, so he smothered his cries against her slick heat. The vibration of his muted shouts of triumph spurred her to lift her hips in a silent request, and he gladly plundered her moist softness until she shivered against him once again.
He would have given her a third orgasm, but she sank to the floor of the tent and brought her thighs together, shutting him out.
“Abby?” He kissed her wet curls. “Girls don’t have a limit like guys. You can have more.”
She gulped for air. “Not now. He stopped playing.”
“Really?” Apparently his pounding heart had drowned out everything but the beautiful sounds of Abby coming. He’d completely lost track of the harmonica music and whether or not it provided cover for their activities.
“So that means he might hear us,” she said.
He traced lazy circles over her still-quivering thighs. “I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do,” she said softly. “We need him to believe I have a bad cut on my leg. The rest of the plan depends on it. If he knows what we’re doing in here, he’ll doubt that I’m hurt and it all falls apart.”
She was right, and it should bother him that she was more intent on the Bigfoot plan than he was. He needed to focus. But how was he supposed to do that, when he’d begun to question everything he’d believed about how his life would go?
Twenty-four hours earlier he’d told himself that he could easily walk away from Abby. That was no longer true. And it wasn’t only because of the great sex. That explanation was backward.
He felt completely tuned in to her, as if he could read her mind and she could read his. That was why they had such great sex. He’d never felt so mentally connected in a sexual relationship. The implication of that was huge.
“Wallace?” Donald’s voice came from right outside the tent. “Everything okay in there?”
Shit.
Roarke lifted his cheek from Abby’s damp curls. “Just fine, Donald.”
“I thought I heard Abby moan, so I wanted to make sure she’s not worse.”
“I’m okay, Donald,” Abby said. “After we finished our soup, Roarke checked my bandage and it turns out I’d started bleeding again. He had to put some pressure on it to stop it. It was kind of gross, but everything’s settled down, now.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good. I’m glad you can deal with blood, Wallace. I’ll just be in my tent, then.” His announcement was followed by the sound of his quick retreat through the wet leaves.
Roarke reversed direction again, this time a lot more slowly than the first time. A fantastic orgasm could affect a guy’s reflexes, and besides, Abby had shoved his sweats to his knees, which made maneuvering awkward.
Once he got his briefs and sweats back in place, he covered Abby’s body lightly with his own and gazed into her eyes. “Nice touch, emphasizing the blood.”
“Thanks. I learned all I know about telling glib lies from you.”
“I’m not feeling particularly glib right now.”
“No?” She combed his hair back from his forehead.
“We’re almost done with this project.”
“Don’t count your chickens, Professor. We still have a lot to accomplish.”
“Yes, but it’s pretty much laid out, and by this time tomorrow . . .”
“We won’t be together.”
“Right. And that’s depressing the hell out of me.”
“Don’t think about it.” Her eyes told him she was thinking about it, though. And she didn’t look any happier about the prospect of saying good-bye, either.
He reminded himself that she’d recoiled at the idea of having children who could turn out to be shape-shifters. She’d hated the thought that Emma couldn’t tell her family and friends the true details of her life and had to feed them fancy lies instead. Hell, she’d even made it clear that she wanted to keep her own name when she married.
She ran a finger down his cheek. “You should probably go reassure Donald that all is well with me. I think he stopped playing because he heard me cry out and he was worried.”
Roarke nodded. “Yeah, he’s not a bad guy. I feel sort of guilty knowing he’ll never get to see Bigfoot.”
“Yes, but his motives aren’t pure. Don’t forget that he’s not strong enough to see Bigfoot and then not tell anybody. Even my grandfather wasn’t.”
“Do you think Earl could be trusted now, though? If you told him what was at stake?”
Her eyes lit up. “Are you saying that maybe he could be with me when I watch them get into the helicopter?”
“I’d like that. It would help make up for the way I’ve disgraced him in his hometown.”
“Roarke, you’re a prince.” Cradling his face in both hands, she lifted her head and kissed him.
He would have loved to kiss her back. Then he’d begin kissing every inch of her body so he could map all those freckles he’d vowed to find. He longed to stroke her until she writhed against the floor of the tent, until she wanted him again. He would take her in one smooth stroke. She was so easy to love.
Easy to love.
God, he was in so much trouble.
Reluctantly he ended the kiss. “Technically I am a prince, but I’m not in line to inherit the throne. That would be my brother, Aidan.”
“Literally? You have a throne at your house in New York?”
“No, not an actual throne. Nobody would want to sit on something like that. But there is a hierarchy. It’s that way in all werewolf packs.”
“So does that make Cameron Gentry the reigning king of their pack?”
“It does.” Roarke rolled away very carefully and scooted down to the front of the tent. “Which means Cameron outranks me.”
“I don’t like that. I don’t like
him.
”
He picked up a hiking boot and pulled it on. “Neither do I, but I owe him my respect. And I’ve given my word that I’ll take care of his Sasquatch problem for him.”
“And you will. Your plan is going to work.”
“
Our
plan.”
She scooted to a seated position. “That’s nice of you to say, but if you hadn’t been saddled with me in the first place and you’d been able to work on your own, you’d probably be done with the whole thing by now.”
He gazed at her. “If you think for one second that I regret any of this, then—”
“I know you don’t.”
“I’m glad you know it. Sharing this time with you has been incredible.” He could say a lot more, but he wouldn’t. No point in going into detail about how she’d enriched his hours in the past two days. He’d only make things worse.
“Same here, Roarke,” she said gently.
He held her gaze. “Good to know.”
“I just meant you would have been more efficient without me.”
He smiled at her as he pulled on his other boot. “Efficiency is highly overrated.” Then he left the tent before he became even less efficient and wrecked the entire plan.
Abby wished she’d brought a book, but she’d never expected to spend this much time alone. Refastening her fake bandage and dressing didn’t take much time, and then she was left to lie there and listen to Roarke and Donald talking. She couldn’t even amuse herself with that, though, because she couldn’t hear what they said.
Predictably, Donald’s voice was the one she heard most of the time, and she didn’t envy Roarke having to listen to all those self-aggrandizing stories. Still, she would rather listen to Donald’s boring conversation than lie here alone with her thoughts, which played in a continuous loop in her mind.
Roarke didn’t want their time together to end, and she didn’t want that, either. But end it would. If they didn’t live almost a continent apart, they could be lovers a little while longer, but that would only make the inevitable breakup worse.
They’d be wise not to see each other again once this was over. She’d certainly hate to face the prospect of running in to him after he’d chosen his werewolf mate. That would be excruciatingly painful.Thinking of Roarke with someone else sent slivers of glass into her heart, so the reality would be even more horrible.
But she wouldn’t run in to him, because he’d go back to his job at NYU, and she’d go back to being a claims adjuster in Phoenix. Now that she knew the truth about the Gentrys, she’d find a way to move Grandpa Earl to Phoenix, too. That project should occupy her for several months and give her time to get over Roarke.
She was whistling in the wind on that estimation, and she damn well knew it. Getting over Roarke would take longer than a few months. It might not happen at all.
The child who had loved fantasy had grown into a woman who had denied that part of herself. But these past days with Roarke had reawakened her love of fantasy and intrigue. After knowing Roarke, how could she ever be happy with anyone else?
Although he’d made it clear that he didn’t want a human for a mate, she’d begun thinking of how she might be able to live a double life, after all. If Roarke could do it, why couldn’t she? Still, he hadn’t ever hinted that he wanted her to try. She’d have to let him go, no matter how much that hurt.
Gradually the patter of the rain on the tent lulled her into a light sleep, but the rasp of her tent zipper brought her instantly awake and her body tightened in anticipation. “Roarke?”
He shoved his big shoulders through the tent opening. “I know you must be going stir-crazy in here, but I can’t stay,” he said in a low voice. “Donald’s suspicious.”
“I was afraid of that. Do we have any ketchup?”
Roarke stared at her, and then he began to chuckle. “Good thought, but I didn’t bring any.”
“Maybe I should prick my—”
“Oh, no, you don’t. I won’t have you sacrificing any of your precious blood to satisfy Donald. However . . .”
She could see the wheels going around. “Don’t you dare cut yourself.”
“Why not? You were willing to do it.”
“And you couldn’t stand the idea. I can’t stand the idea of you inflicting pain on yourself, either, so you’d better not, or . . .”
“Or what?” His gaze made it plain he had the upper hand.
And she felt impotent. “I will be really, really mad at you.”
His expression softened. “And I wouldn’t like that.”
“So don’t do it, okay?”