Jealous And Freakn' (10 page)

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Returning to the bedroom, Mitchell seethed at the cat’s words, but his anger receded in the face of Francine looking so small and helpless in the big bed. Of course, he should have known her tongue was in fine fighting shape.

“Are you guys done pissing on Naomi’s walls? Or would you like to each grab one of my legs and pull me apart like a wishbone and see who gets the bigger piece?”

“You must be feeling better. You’re trying to rip a strip off me,” he remarked in a dry tone as he sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “Move over, you bed hog.”

“No. I’m the injured one here.”

“Excuse me? Do you think I’m wearing this bandage because it’s fashionable?”

She peered over at him, her eyes lingering more on his nude torso than his bandage, which made him puff up his chest. “Wuss. My bandage is bigger than yours,” she sassed, but she inched over a bit.

He slid down on the bed until he lay beside Francine, his head on the edge of the same pillow. Her eyes didn’t meet his for long, focusing instead again on the white strips binding him. Then, as if unable to resist, her gaze strayed to the rest of his bare chest, heating him without a single touch. Mitchell grew hard under her regard, and cursed his loose track pants, which made that point all too evident. He tried to cover it with his hand but that just drew her attention to it.

“Nice wood. Hope you don’t usually whack off with your left hand,” she said with a snicker.

“You have a filthy mouth, Francine.”

“All the better to do wicked things with. Hey, weren’t you supposed to be tied to a bed somewhere to make sure you didn’t get out and reopen your own gunshot wound?”

He shrugged. “They tried, but when I heard you got hurt, I kind of broke the bed to come see you.” Which hurt like a fucking bitch, but he lost his freakn’ mind when he heard about Francine’s injury.

“Ah, isn’t that the sweetest thing, but stop trying to distract me. What did you and Alejandro discuss?”

“He’s leaving and told me to take care of you.” He didn’t bother lying.

“What? He wasn’t serious, was he? He could get hurt.”

Again, his shoulders lifted in dismissal while at the same time, irritation filled him that she seemed to care so much about the cat’s wellbeing.
But obviously not enough to let him mark her last night.
Which meant he still had a chance.
“Who cares? It’s his fault we both got shot so it’s only right he fix it.”

“What is it with you guys and the macho bullshit about taking responsibility? Just because some psycho fixated on Jag doesn’t mean it’s his fault. Did he say how long he’ll be gone?”

“He didn’t. But, honestly, do you really think he’s coming back?”

She bit her lip and didn’t reply, but he saw the tears in her eyes. A twinge of guilt made him sigh and say, “I’m sure it will only be a day or so. Long enough to catch the human and stop him from hurting anyone else. But, you won’t be alone. I’m not leaving your side.”

“Gee, lucky me,” she grumbled.

“What happened to we’re meant to be together forever?” He said it in a teasing tone, but a part of him held his breath waiting for her reply, hoping he’d not completely fucked things up. Tied to a bed, with only his thoughts for company—his lonely state probably caused by him yelling at everyone to get out—left a man with way too much time to think. Hours to sift through his emotions and visualize one person over and over, and not just naked in his bed, but in his life, as a friend and lover.

He’d finally caught the damned mating fever and like a mask lifted from his eyes, he could now see Francine in a new light. See the merits in mating with someone who knew him and his family and didn’t run in fear. Appreciate the fact that she shared some of his same interests like watching sports and even playing them. Snicker with pride over the way one tiny girl used her tongue and rapier wit to defend herself. And most of all, he finally saw her as more than the pig-tailed torment who’d tackled him so many times he vowed never to play football again. He looked at her and saw…perfection.
My mate.
And his wolf sighed in canine relief that the idiot human it was stuck with finally stopped being a dumbass.

Startled from his musings, he heard her reply. “I gave up on you as a mate. Too much work. And besides, you’re grumpy. I don’t need to wake up to that every day.”

He frowned. “I am not grumpy.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Children, behave!” shouted Naomi from the hall.

“Am not,” he whispered.

She elbowed his injured side, and he sucked in a breath. “Ow! That wasn’t nice.”

“Pussy.”

“Shrew.”

She snickered. “Shrew? Really? That’s the best you could come up with.”

“You’re really annoying sometimes, you know?”

“Only sometimes? I’ll have to try harder then.”

“Or you could shut up. You know, enjoy the sound of silence and rest your gums.”

“Make me.”

What possessed him, he didn’t know. The scent of the cat still lingered on her. He’d not yet resolved what he wanted to do about her. Actually, he had, he wanted her, but he wanted to go about it slowly, cautiously. But still despite all that, he kissed her, a brief touch at first, which sent a jolt of awareness through him and made her gasp. He liked it, liked it a lot actually, and even better, she seemed to as well. So he kissed her again, slanting his mouth over hers, testing its fullness before tugging her lower lip between his for a suck. She parted her mouth, a small moan of need rolling into his. He thrust his tongue into the opening, ran it along the length of hers, tasted her, and wanted more.

Her hand crept up to touch his face, and he didn’t miss her wince. It brought him back to sanity, but did nothing to curb his arousal. He pulled back. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why did I know you were going to say that?” she replied on a sigh.

“I didn’t mean I regretted kissing you. That we’re definitely going to have to do again, but first you need to heal. I don’t want to be the jerk who takes advantage of you while you are lying injured in bed.”

“Could have fooled me,” Naomi said from the doorway. “Men. Always thinking with their little heads instead of their big ones. Now get out so she can sleep.”

A mulish expression dropped over Francine’s face and he could smell the coming fight. He verbally stepped in before it could erupt. “I’m staying. Besides, won’t it make it easier if we’re both in the same room to take care of?”

“I thought you weren’t that injured,” his sister said, narrowing her eyes in challenge.

Adopting a puppy dog face, he tried to look as pitiful as possible while beside him, Francine snickered. “I’m feeling kind of weak, actually. I think all that exertion has caught up. Francine won’t mind if I nap beside her. Will you, Red?”

She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. But I warn you right now, I’ve been told I’m a bed hog.”

And boy, did that turn out to be the understatement of the century, Mitchell thought as she sprawled on her stomach across the mattress, the comforter tucked under her cheek while he held on by the tiniest sliver of mattress. However, despite the discomfort, he couldn’t really say there was another place he’d rather be. The thought didn’t frighten him as much as he expected.

Chapter Nine

Playing the card game, Asshole—which still made them giggle just as energetically as it did when they were kids—with Mitchell, Naomi along with whomever wasn’t out searching for the hunter got tedious after a while. But, Francine couldn’t deny that even as she missed Alejandro, she enjoyed spending time with Mitchell, the boy she remembered now a man with the same temper and twisted set of morals that let him cheat at cards, but think that his sister’s BFF was off limits.

Or used to be off limits. True to his word, he’d not left her presence since her injury the previous morning, sleeping by her side, grumbling that she kicked in her sleep. His family took his presence as a given, not saying a word, which surprised Francine given his family weren’t the types to curb their tongues. It seemed everyone assumed he’d taken his rightful spot. Francine might have thought it too except for one thing; he didn’t say or do anything to make her think his newfound glued to her side status was permanent. Which really sucked.

She wanted to think he’d turned the corner when it came to his thinking of her, that he’d forgotten his idiotic obsession with treating her as his sister. Hard to pretend, though, when he did nothing to convince her that he saw her in a romantic light. He’d not tried a repeat of his kiss—not once—even though she’d woken a few times with his face mere inches from her, his eyes studying her intently as if she puzzled him. Yet, despite his lack of action, she could see the hunger in his gaze, and she caught him adjusting himself when he thought she wasn’t looking, obviously aroused. She loved that she could cause such a reaction, hope blossoming that she’d finally get what her heart had forever desired.

However…even as she exulted over their burgeoning closeness, she worried about Alejandro and missed him. Funny how in his short time, he’d managed to snag a portion of her heart. Odder still how she saw nothing wrong with caring so strongly for another man while in bed with the one she’d always loved.
Naomi’s right, I am a skank.
One who wasn’t getting laid, unfortunately.

“What’s got you looking so down, Red?” Mitchell asked, tweaking a curl, employing his new nickname for her.

What would he say if she said she needed some naked loving? Probably dive out of the window if past incidences were any indication. Maybe she should keep her lusty needs to herself. “Has anyone heard from Jag?” she asked.

“Nope, and I say good riddance to that. Maybe the alley cat’s slunk back home.”

Mitchell just couldn’t resist the barbs about Alejandro. She elbowed him and he grunted. “Alejandro wouldn’t do that. He said he’d come back.” And despite her own trepidation that he’d gotten a taste and lost interest, a part of her believed him when he said he’d return.

“Like a cold sore.”

“Don’t be an ass, Mitchell. Despite what you think of him, he’s been nothing but nice to me. Nicer than you’ve been I might add.”

“What are you talking about? I’m here, aren’t I, keeping you company and saving you from boredom?”

“And what about the five years previous to that?” she remarked dryly.

“I was busy?” he said with a hopeful lilt.

“Busy shagging skanks. And the only reason you’re even talking to me again is because of Jag. At least he’s never bowled people over to escape me.” Although, Mitchell was doing better. He’d gone from one extreme to another, glued to her side if for reasons still vague to her.

“Can we stop talking about him?” Mitchell grumbled.

Oh ho, did she hear a hint of jealousy? What fun. “Why? I like talking about him, like how big and strong he is. What amazing eyes he has. Oh, and he does this wicked thing—”

A pillow slapped her on the head along with Mitchell’s growled, “Enough. You like the cat. I get it. Now, change the subject.”

“Are you jealous, Mitchy?” she bugged as she yanked the pillow off her head.

“Of course not.”

Even she could hear the lie. She smiled to herself. “Fine. No more discussing Jag and how awesome he is. What do you want to do instead?” she asked as she gingerly rolled onto her back. The gunshot wound had closed, the skin knitting itself together, but still felt very tender. One of Mitchell’s hands helped prop her as the other stuffed pillows behind her back.

“Wanna play cards again?” he asked. Done playing nursemaid, he leaned back.

“No. And I swear, if you try and make me, I’m going to hide the ace in a hole that you’re not going to like.”

“Testy, testy. Wanna watch some television?”

“It’s eleven a.m., which means talk shows or reruns. No thanks.” She didn’t need to know who the father of the teenage girl’s baby was. Seriously, how did people stomach those shows? And the Price Is Right just wasn’t the same without Bob Barker.

“Okay, grouchy one, what do you want to do then?”

“Truth or dare.” She blurted it out without even thinking. She immediately expected him to shoot the idea down. Once again, he surprised her.

“Okay, Red. You’re on. Me first.”

She frowned at him. “Why do you go first? I came up with the idea.”

A smirk twisted his lips. “Which means I go first. Or do you want to arm wrestle for the privilege?”

He’d like that, wouldn’t he? “Jerk. Go ahead, ask away. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

He grinned. “Excellent. So what’s it going to be, truth or dare, Red?”

“Truth.” Her eyes dared him to do his worst.

“Are you really going to let the cat move in and share your bed?”

“Yes. He’s a great cook and I liked sleeping with him. All night long. He’s the one who complained I didn’t share the bed well and that I stole all the covers.” She presented him with an innocent smile that completely ignored his glower.

Mitchell growled. “You didn’t answer the question. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then next time ask me properly because I answered the question. My turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

She cackled. “Ooh, you’re feeling brave, are you? Okay so answer this then, do you still see me as a sister?” Going after him with a big blazing truth gun, she almost held her breath waiting for the answer.

His eyes scrutinized her, and his answer, when it came, emerged slowly. “No. I most definitely don’t think of you as a sister anymore.” Her heart raced as she waited for him to say something more on the subject, but instead, he said, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Do you love the cat?”

Blinking at the blunt question, she didn’t immediately reply. Honesty meant she couldn’t avoid it, even if she knew he wouldn’t like the answer. “I’m pretty sure I do.” A blank mask dropped over his face, but she could see the tension in his body.

“Are you going to let him claim you?”

“My turn to ask a question,” she said, stalling him. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Are you here just to protect me?”

“No.”

He didn’t elaborate and she glared at him. The jerk just grinned. “I love payback. My turn. Truth or dare?”

Having heard the question already, she avoided it. “Dare.”

His brows shot up. “Aw, so that’s how you’re going to play, hmmm? Chicken. Okay then, I dare you to tell Naomi she’s fat.”

Francine snorted. “I already did that this morning when you were in the bathroom. She then told me I looked like a scraggly refugee. Come on, you can do better than that.”

“Such a smart ass. You want something harder then? Fine, I dare you to kiss me.”

“Seriously? Piece of cake, although, to spare my back, do you mind bending over so I can reach you?”

Chagrin flashed on his face and she almost laughed as he leaned over, his face hovering in front of hers. “If you want to change your mind it’s—”

Plastering her mouth against his shut him up, and this time, her mind clear, her body rested, she could say without a shadow of a doubt he felt just as good as she recalled. Slanting her mouth over his, she nibbled the flesh, enjoying how his heart sped up and his breathing got more and more ragged. He pulled away first, swallowing hard, his eyes alight with passion, but he controlled himself, if with difficulty, the cords in his neck standing out. A quick glimpse down showed his hands clenched into fists. He still insisted on staying in control, it seemed. What a shame. She wondered how far she’d have to push him before he finally caved.

Her voice husky, she said, “My turn, truth or dare?”

He licked his lips, and a surge of lust roared through her as she realized how much she wanted that tongue—in her mouth, on her body, in her pussy. But Mitchell wasn’t Alejandro. He required more coaxing.

“Dare?” He spoke the word it as if worried, and with good reason.

Tossing him a wicked grin, she pointed to her groin clad in track pants. His forehead wrinkled with incomprehension and she smiled wider.

“I want you to put your mouth on my crotch and blow.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“So I’ve been told. What’s wrong? Are you turning down a dare? Pussy. Jag would do it in a heartbeat.”

“But someone could come in. And you’re hurt. And…”

She rolled her eyes. “I am really starting to think the rumors of you in the sack were false. I mean—Oh!”

The startled sigh escaped her as Mitchell placed his face between her thighs, his mouth against her sex. He blew and even filtered through her track pants, she felt the heat. And he didn’t do it just once. No, he kept his mouth pressed on her, breathing at her, and even through the fabric, it aroused her. Melted her into a puddle of aching desire. And she craved more.

Shudders wracked her and a low moan vibrated through her, followed by another when he worked his lips against the fabric, tugging at her. Her fingers gripped his hair, and she ignored the twinge of discomfort in her wound as she rocked her hips against his face.

“Phone for you… Hey, pervert, that’s my bed you’re misbehaving in,” Naomi screeched at her brother.

As if scalded, he rolled off the bed, the passion on his face warring with his red-cheeked embarrassment. As usual, he got mad and blamed someone else.

Pointing a finger at Francine, he stammered, “She made me do it. She dared me. Yell at her.”

Naomi grinned at her. “Truth or dare?”

“Of course. Idiot thought he could beat me at it.”

They both snickered while Mitchell scowled at them. “Did you want us for something other than causing trouble?” he growled.

“Oh yeah, phone call for Francine.” Naomi waddled to the bed and handed over the cell phone. “It’s Alejandro. Or should I say Jag, which I must say, is the coolest nickname ever. Javier won’t admit it, but he’s soooo jealous.”

“Am not,” Javier hollered from the hall.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can come up with another kitty name for you, like Sylvester or Tom,” she yelled back, grinning. “Apparently, I’m not allowed to call him God in public, although he has no problem with it when we’re alone.”

Ethan lumbered in shaking his head, and swept his mate into his arms. “I apologize for her wayward tongue. The pregnancy hormones have made her crazier than she already was.”

“Oh, teddy bear!” she snarled.

“Yes my delicate flower?” he said, placidly carrying her out.

“Don’t you flower me. I resent being called crazy. I prefer straightforward.”

Francine giggled. She loved seeing Naomi so relaxed with her men.
I’d love to have the same type of relationship with mine.
She’d almost forgotten the phone in her hand, but a tinny “Hello?” made her bring it to her ear.

“Alejandro! Are you okay?”

“Hey, baby. Miss me?”

“More than you deserve.” She smiled as she said it, glad he’d called.

Mitchell crawled back on the bed. “Is that the cat? Ask him if he caught the hunter.”

“Tell the dog, not yet.”

“He heard you. Now, you didn’t answer me, are you okay? When are you coming back?” It eased something in her to hear his voice, to know he’d not forgotten her.

“I’m fine if lonely and horny. The hunter seems headed back to my hometown so I’ve been following him. I’m hoping to corner him tonight, which means I should be back tomorrow sometime, the day after at the latest. What about you, though? How’s your back?”

“Healing. They won’t let me do anything,” she grumbled.

“Ahh, poor baby. I’ll try and get back soon so I can find ways to keep you
entertained.
”
His soft chuckle made her smile because she could so easily imagine what he meant.

“Pig,” she said softly.

He laughed. “I miss you too. How are things with the dog?”

“They’re going.”

“I’ve got to say I’m surprised Mitchell hasn’t used my absence to make his big move.”

Peering over at Mitchell, who pretended not listen, she said, “We’re making progress.”

“In other words, he’s dragging his heels instead of seducing you. Idiot. Better get him to hurry up because once I get back, you probably won’t be allowed up for air for at least a day or so.” That made Mitchell growl and leave the bed. Actually, he left the room entirely, his back a rigid board.

She sighed.

“I take it he left?”

“Of course he did. Progress doesn’t mean he’s ready to admit he has feelings for me even if every time you’re mentioned he turns absolutely green.”

“Has he at least kissed you yet?”

Francine blushed, tongue tied at the question.
Exactly what is the protocol to admitting to your lover that you’ve let another man kiss you?

“I’ll take your silence as a yes. I’ll be damned. Looks like you might get what you’ve wanted, baby.”

The surreal tenor of the conversation threw her for a loop. “How come you’re so casual about this? Hell, even so encouraging? Most guys would be… Jealous and freakn’.”

“And chance losing you? No thanks. I’m not blind or stupid. You’ve wanted Mitchell pretty much all your life. If I forced you to choose between us, there’s a possibility I wouldn’t win. Seems pretty dumb to act the part of jealous idiot, like a certain dog I know, given I know a three-way relationship can work. Just look at Naomi and her men. I don’t see why we can’t enjoy the same thing. Don’t get me wrong, a part of me would love to strangle the dog and throw him off a cliff, but ultimately, it’s what you need that counts. I’m not saying we won’t have to make adjustments. But I’m willing. The bigger question is, can Mitchell cope?”