A Werewolf to Call Her Own (Mystic Isle, Book 2) (3 page)

She felt so perfect against him. Like a piece of him had returned. But that was a foolish thought. A part of him had never gone missing. Chin resting atop her head, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. Together they stood, silently absorbing the moment, the incredible percussion and glittering showers of color.

“Did you know that fireworks date back to seventh century China?” she asked.

His lips twitched. So she was a trivia fan. That suited her.

“No. I didn’t.”

She started to say something else. He could feel her lungs expand, almost see the wheels in her mind turning. But she remained silent.

For the first time since he’d met her, she seemed to relax. Her breathing steadied. Her heartbeat calmed. And she shivered, but he was almost certain she wasn’t shaking with fear.

She was absolutely charming.

When the encore was over she stayed right where she was. He liked that she no longer seemed in a hurry to go somewhere. In fact, she seemed content. With the show over, the deck cleared out almost immediately. A few stray couples in various states of undress took up residence on the plush patio loungers. He was used to the public sexcapades. Shifters weren’t known for their modesty. Hell, he liked to swim in the buff.

But the lovely creature in his arms made him want to hide her away from it all and keep her to himself. The main problem with that idea, no… there were two major problems with that idea.

First, she wasn’t the type of woman to have a one-night stand. And secondly, that was all he could offer her.

Damn.

Double damn.

Chapter Three

Ceara turned in his arms and placed her hands against the rock-hard wall of his chest. He was easily the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Up close, with his heat radiating around her like a thick fur coat… it only added to his appeal. And made him impossible to resist.

She felt an attraction so strong she couldn’t figure out what to do next. All she knew was that she had to keep touching him. Needed to soak up his affections for as long as he’d let her. How had she become addicted to him in such a short period of time?

But she was. She couldn’t deny it. All the symptoms were there. The thought of walking across the rooftop without him, much less back to her cottage or even back to France, sent icy shards of resignation through her.

Somehow the darkness made her brave. Or maybe it was him. His quiet, steady assurance. He knew what he wanted. She could see that determination in his eyes. If only she knew what it was that he wanted.

Dropping her gaze, she glanced out over the water. “Thank you for bringing me up here.” The school of dolphins had been incredible, the fireworks, a memory she’d never forget.

But mostly, it was his presence that made the last hour so special. She didn’t need the fireworks to feel a quake deep to her bones. His touch had done that. The rich timbre of his voice. His delicious accent.

“My pleasure.”

He sounded genuine, like he’d truly enjoyed himself. But Ceara wasn’t a prize. Not like Valencia. She was pretty enough, but V told her often enough that she didn’t play up her assets. If she were to follow V’s instructions, could she hope to win a man like this? A man who rescued damsels and made them feel special.

In that moment, soaking up the shelter of his arms, she realized that he was the man she’d dreamed of her whole life. The knight in shining armor, brave enough to go to war for her. She knew it because she’d managed to go for a whole half hour with a quiet mind. There were no whispers from the grave. No warnings from her dead parents.

This man, whoever he was, was strong enough to protect her. To shelter her.

She hadn’t missed the way he’d stared down every man on the deck tonight.

His presence soothed her, stopped her fidgeting. What would happen when they parted ways? She didn’t want to think of that right now. Now she just wanted to soak up his presence. His confidence. Dream of a full life where she took risks and…

“The night doesn’t have to be over just yet.”

Heart thundering, she turned in his arms. Was he suggesting—

“Calm down, little vamp. As much as I’d love to rip your poor excuse for an outfit from that delicious body you’re hiding underneath and ravish you, I realize you’re not ready for that yet.”

His words made her body flush with heat. A delicious, physiological heat she’d never, in her twenty-one years, felt before. For a moment she wondered if she was melting.

Ravish… really? She—he—

His hands skimmed up her back and he cupped her cheeks.

“I need to kiss you,” he admitted, his beautiful brown eyes locked on her lips. His pupils flared until the warm brown all but disappeared. “I’ve been dying to since the moment you first looked at me, your lips trembling ever so slightly. I wanted to smooth away that fear and beat that demon over the head for scaring you.”

Ceara stared at him, mute. He said the best things. Then, feeling soft and pliant, she nodded and closed her eyes.

“Have you ever been kissed before, my beautiful little vamp?”

She shook her head, seeing no reason to lie. “But it’s on my list,” she whispered. He would probably recognize how inexperienced she was the moment his lips met hers.

But what she lacked in experience, she made up for in education. Her parents had kept
her
locked away from the world but they hadn’t locked away the world from her. She’d devoured their massive library by the time she’d been twelve. And then they’d allowed her to get a computer. The internet was ridiculously informative. Sometimes incorrect and crass, but amazingly diverse.

He laughed. “Your list?”

She opened her eyes, feeling a blush creeping into her cheeks. How did she explain her list? Especially to a man like him? She licked her lips.

He groaned.

“My bucket list. All the things I want to do in my life.”

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “You sound like an ancient.”

She’d heard of them. Never met one. She shook her head, bravery seeping into her like a slow release drug. “You wouldn’t understand. But tonight…” She dropped her gaze to the pearlescent button of his shirt. Then she looked into his eyes again. “Tonight is like the first night of my life.”

He was silent for a long time, studying her. Obviously trying to figure out her meaning.

“What else is on this list of yours?”

His voice was soft, inquisitive, but rich like the finest Swiss chocolate. The fact that he didn’t laugh at her, didn’t question her past, think her young and silly… she lost a little of her heart right then.

“Build a sandcastle. Dance in the rain. See a live orchestra. Swim with dolphins. Play my violin on stage in front of a sold out hall.” Every item she listed off made her excitement grow. She could hear her voice getting higher, her words coming out quicker.

He reached for her left hand and examined her fingertips. “How long have you played?”

“Since I was four.”

“A child prodigy.”

She looked away. “Something like that.”

He released her hand and cupped her cheek. She rubbed against it, soaking in his heat. When he tipped her chin up and leaned close, she closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

She complied.

“I want you to see who’s kissing you, so you’ll remember.”

She swallowed. He ducked his head until a mere inch separated them. She was positive she’d remember this moment for the rest of eternity. His gentle strength, barely leashed restraint, beautiful eyes, that kissable mouth. It would be so easy to lose herself in his touch. Forget the here and now, who she was, and why she was here. But she knew that he, them, this moment, would be unforgettable.

He trailed a thumb against her cheek and then closed the distance. Warm lips roamed hers, softly at first. A gentle quest that made her feel light and airy. Her fingers flexed against his chest, then curled into his shirt.
Amazing.

Why did it feel so good? Lips against lips? Just flesh and yet it was… incredible. A connection like she’d never known.

His hips shifted against her and she felt the undeniable evidence of his desire. So maybe it was possible that a man like him could want a girl like her.

“Oh, I want you, sweetheart,” he said, his lips a scant half centimeter from hers. Far enough away to speak, but close enough that they brushed against hers, igniting a fiery desire deep inside. “God knows you deserve better, but don’t doubt for a second that I’m hard because of you.”

Who was he to talk of deserving?

Hands sweating, she pressed her lips against his.

She’d read somewhere that biting, nibbling, and nipping were commonplace during sex, and for the first time she understood the desire. She wanted to eat him up. Not just taste his blood, that too, but to nip and nibble those sexy lips. His square chin.

His left hand drifted down and wrapped gently around her throat, and another rush of moisture wet her core. Thrown by the marvelous response from her body, she was shocked when his tongue swept along the seam of her lips. Surprised further by the way her body seemed to come alive, shifting against him of its own accord. Softening, molding against his strong frame, growing wetter with each and every kiss.

His tongue swept inside her mouth, hot and wet. Not asking. Just taking. Another flush ran over her skin and she sighed, melting against him completely.

So this was what it felt like. Desire. Passion. Chemistry.

If this wasn’t chemistry, she couldn’t imagine what
that
would feel like. He felt perfect against her. She followed his lead, letting her tongue touch his. By the sound of his groan and the way his fingers tightened around her neck ever so slightly, she got the impression that she was doing something right.

The perfectionist in her made her whisper, “How am I doing?”

She wanted to snatch the words back immediately. Now was not the time for such questions, but he simply laughed and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close.

“Too good,” he murmured into her hair. “We need to take a walk.”

Hearing the change in his voice, the restraint, she licked her lips and stepped back. He groaned and pulled her back against him, chest against chest, thighs brushing. His cock nestled between them, and he kissed her quickly. Just a peck. A quick brush across the lips, as if he couldn’t help himself.

Then he stepped to the side, chest rising with a deep breath, and slid an arm around her waist. She liked that. The feel of him next to her, around her, shielding her. She’d never felt connected to anyone in this way.

They made their way across the deck, hips brushing the whole way, to the elevator. On the ground level, he led her to the beach. To the north, the volleyball game was still going strong. The bonfires continued to blaze, lighting their way to the south, showering the sand with extra heat.

Coco had been right. Solstice was a time for new beginnings. For healing. Starting over. Starting fresh. Coco had found love. Accepted it. Embraced it.

Why was she, Ceara Blackwell, so scared to embrace new experiences? All the things her parents had said to keep her safely in her cocoon were turning out to be wrong. Every day another myth was shattered. And tonight, tonight she’d met a man who heated her from the inside out. Wanted her, silly clothes and all.

There was still much for her to learn. But she’d start by following his lead.

Halfway down the beach, his steps slowed to a stop. She sent him a questioning look. He gave her a smile that made her knees soft. He dropped her hand, surveyed the sand, and then sank to his knees.

“What are you --”

“Building a sandcastle. Want to help?”

And just like that, Ceara fell a little bit deeper.

Chapter Four

Maxim sat back, brushing the sand from his hands and admired their handiwork. A small castle towered above the surrounding sand, little pillars at the corners.

“Evidently sandcastle building is a competitive sport. I saw a show about it. They make massive designs…” She held her arms open wide. Maxim felt the beginning of a grin. “The sand is very important,” she was saying. Something about texture and moisture content. He had a hard time focusing on her words when he couldn’t tear his focus from her lips.

She seemed to know a little about everything, which he appreciated. She certainly knew how to kiss. Which was why he couldn’t stop looking at her lips.

“There. It is finished.”

The woman on the other side of the structure beamed at him. “Wait…” She placed a twig in the center spiral. “A flagpole for our castle,” she said, her French accent thick.

He couldn’t believe something so simple could make her so happy. But he understood all too well the feeling of being imprisoned. Held against your will. Waiting to take a breath, ready, oh so ready to start your life and move forward. Toward your future. The future you only dreamed of.

And hers consisted of a to-do list like he’d never seen before.

“It won’t win any contests, but that was fun.” She brushed the sand from her hands and sat back on her heels. The position drew his attention to her curves.

It was too bad he’d be returning home on Monday, away from this magical island. Far away from her. He sighed. Which was why he should probably start backing off right now. And focus on something other than her curves. “That sounds like a lot of hard work for something that will be destroyed by wind and water.”

Her smile dimmed immediately and he felt like an ass.

“You’re right.”

“But then art is a worthy cause, no matter how long it lasts.” The words sounded good. He didn’t particularly buy into art. Didn’t really have time for it and had never made time for it. But that didn’t mean he didn’t see the value in creativity.

A small smile creased her cheeks. “Like music.”

“Music?” He didn’t follow.

“It’s like when I play my violin. I get lost in the music for a few minutes. Or even a few hours. But when I’m done playing, it’s over.”