Outfoxed by Love (Kodiak Point Book 2) (14 page)

“Shall I bend over?” She peered at him through wet lashes and couldn’t help but laugh at the astonishment on his face.

This time he was past words, although he might have grunted before he wrapped an arm around her waist. Hoisting her to waist height, she took it as an invitation to wrap her legs around his torso. It trapped his jutting cock beneath her butt where it rubbed, hot and hard, against her.

Lips locked, Boris
leaned her up against the wall of the shower. His body pinned her, and a single arm remained locked around her waist. His hips undulated, seesawing his length against her. She trembled. How she wanted him to claim her.

And she was sure he would, eventually, once he was done torturing her.
His free hand slid between their bodies to the folds of her damp sex. But that wasn’t his goal. He found her clit and rubbed it, his thick finger pressing against her sweet spot. She keened into his mouth, his rumble of pleasure joining her cry.

While his thumb stroked at her clit, h
e slipped a finger between her plump lips. Then a second.
Oh my.

When he added a third, stretching her, thrusting into her with his fingers,
she trembled. Back and forth, in and out, the more he did it, the more she tightened, a most exquisite torture.

One that had to end.

“Boris,” she gasped against his lips. “I need you. Please”

Action
s instead of words. Boris guided the thick head of his cock and rubbed it against the entrance of her sex. She wiggled her hips, her silent way of saying “Hey, get in there now, please.”

He chuckled.
“Vixen.” With that softly spoken word, and with a firm thrust, he sheathed himself.

Buried deep,
his cock a pulsing hot and hard presence, he went still. But it didn’t stop her from reacting to his beautiful size. She began to shudder, her sex contracting all around him. With both hands available, he shifted his grip so he held her buttocks while keeping her pressed against the shower wall.

With her firmly anchored,
he began to pump, dipping his cock in, so deep, so fully. Then he slid it out until only the tip tickled the entrance to her sex. Then, he thrust, his dick slamming in.

“Oh god,” she whispered.

He let out a moan, but he kept pumping, fast, hard, deep.

She
dug her nails into his tense shoulders. A man on the verge, but determined to hold on and prolong the ecstatic moment. Again and again, he thrust. He pumped until she could hold back no longer for him, and she shattered.

The ripples of her
climax milked his cock. Slamming it deep one last time, he held it there, letting her shudder in his arms and over his shaft. He bellowed as his whole body trembled.

They remained locked in a tight hug for a long while under the warm spray—which he told her later was courtesy of a well and a hot water on
-demand system.

They
embraced, lips soft and tender, bodies pressed tight, unwilling to separate quite yet. Jan savored the intimate moment.

I’ve claimed him.
She might not have said any words, or left any visible marks on him, but she knew she’d imprinted his soul. Just like, knowingly or not, he’d put his mark on hers.

They might have a few bumps in the road to contend with, like Boris having a few more panic attacks about commitment. However, given how easily he seemed to succumb to his passion for her, she didn’t doubt they could work through them.

Eventually, pruned skin and hunger prompted Jan to say, “Might be time to get out.”

He sighed. “I know.”

It seemed she wasn’t alone in wanting the moment to last; however, this carnivore needed some protein.

They managed to eat before baptizing his kitchen counter. They made it to the bed finally but only because she had him chase her upstairs. Who knew fondling his big sword—the one on the wall—would arouse him?

The problem arose when it was time to finally rest and he went to leave her alone.

“Where are you going?” she asked as he sat on the side of the bed, groping for his pants.

“After what happened last night, I don’t want to take a chance. I’ll be on the couch or in my truck.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Stay here with me.”
Jan patted the pillow beside her.

“I can’t. I could hurt you.”

“Only if you can get to a weapon.”

“Last time I used my hands.”

“And I got free. But if it makes you feel better, which is your best hand?”

“My left.”

“So we’ll handcuff that one.”

He blinked. “Excuse me.”

Jan grinned. “You heard me. Where’re the cuffs, Boris? I want to tie you up.”

She did.
And then she
did
him because, as it turned out, Boris harbored many a fantasy.

Sated, tired, and happy, she snuggled against him, ignoring the fact she’d had to handcuff him to the
headboard.

But at least he stayed in bed.
Stayed with her. And he slept. Nightmare free.

How did he manage to sneak into my home?

With the unmistakable sharp edge of a knife at his throat, Boris feigned sleep as he tried to decipher who’d managed to infiltrate his house. Someone stealthy because he’d not heard a thing. Someone with skills because his alarm system was pretty fucking hi-tech.

W
hoever it was, they posed a threat, not just to him but to Jan, who wasn’t presently in bed beside him. Sly little fox. He’d have to put a bell on her so she couldn’t sneak around on him.

Breathing slowly and evenly, Boris maintained his preten
se of slumber and tried to identify the scent of the person who’d broken in, but whoever debated slitting his throat wore a cloying cologne. A trick used by shifters in undercover situations to mask their scent. Just another clue indicating whoever he faced was not an amateur.

“I know you’re not sleeping, boy,” said a low
-toned voice.

Boy? At thirty
-something, people had long ago stopped referring to Boris as boy. Given the man wasn’t fooled by his sleep act, Boris open his eyes and came face to face with a stranger.

Boris itemized what he saw. A
lmost white hair cut in a half-inch buzzcut, leathered skin that put the guy somewhere in his fifties, maybe sixties. A not-too-happy stranger in his mini fortress with a sharp knife against his throat and a coldness in his eyes that said he would slice.

And
Boris, of course, still wore the bloody handcuff meant to keep Jan safe from his nightmares. Talk about ill timing. But he still had one hand free, if he could just—

“Daddy
!” Jan squealed, popping into view. “What are you doing here?”

Boris froze.
Daddy? Shit. This was bad.
So bad.

The killer expression was replaced with a genial one as the male pulled back
, the knife whisked away before an exuberant Jan threw herself at the short and slimly built male.

I must outweigh the guy two to one,
and yet, he’d almost gotten the best of him. Oh say it like it was, the guy could have killed Boris before he said boo.

It made Boris
want to jump from bed and pummel something. Or someone. Problem was, the person he wanted to pummel was hugging his vixen and asking if his Janny-girl was all right.

“I’m fine,
Daddy. But what are you doing here? I thought you and mom were in Florida?”

“We were until someone called us to tell of the trouble you’ve been having.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“I hear you took a few of the scum out?”
No mistaking the pride in his voice. She nodded, and her father grinned. “That’s my girl. I want to hear all about it, but first, mind explaining what you’re doing here with this beast?”

“He’s not a beast,
Daddy. This is Boris.”

“The idiot who isn’t good enough for you?”

“Don’t start, Daddy. Boris has been nothing but great to me since this all started. He’s been protecting me.”

“Not too well if you ask me. I could have killed him while he snored.”

“Oh please, Daddy, everyone knows you’re the master of stealth.”

Since her father seemed rather pleased with the compliment, Boris held back a snort. The guy
boasted some serious skill, he’d grant him that, but to label him a stealth master? His old army buddy, Gene, might object to that.

“So how did you know where to find me
?” Jan asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, not at all perturbed that she was having a conversation with her father while dressed in Boris’ shirt. Rumpled hair, mussed-up sheets, not to mention the distinct eau de people getting it on, all screamed, “We had sex!” Boris was surprised Jan’s dad hadn’t slit his throat while he had a chance.
I doubt I’d be as restrained as him if it were my daughter.
A cute little girl with blonde hair like her—

Slam the door shut on that thought.
He tuned back in to the conversation at hand.

“
Finding you wasn’t too hard,” said her dad. “I called up Reid after I swung by your place and saw it cordoned off. Have they caught the little bastard who set fire to the place?”

“J
ean! Language,” warned a woman whose head popped into view. Lovely, another guest to join the party. Given her blonde perfection, there was no mistaking who she was. Jan’s mother.

Boris thought himself well past the age of embarrassment until
the woman’s gaze found him still handcuffed to a bed, naked under the sheets.
Someone kill me now.

A perfectly plucked brow arched as rouged lips tilted into a smirk. “Really, Jan, surely there are enough single men in town
interested in you that you didn’t have to resort to cuffs to get one to spend the night.”

“Oh shoot. I forgot about that.” Jan
hopped off the bed and grabbed the key on the nightstand. With little decorum, she clambered back onto the mattress. She then crawled to straddle him in his shirt, which rode up her bare thighs as she leaned over to unhook his lock.

G
iven the circumstances, he managed to restrain himself from letting his free hand tickle up the length of naked leg. “What are your parents doing here?” he whispered.

“
Are you deaf, boy? I said we heard about the fire,” answered her father.

“
We took the first flight we could find so we could come and support our poor, homeless baby girl.”

Jan rolled her eyes, but from the
tilt of her lips, Boris could tell it was more from affection than annoyance. To his surprise, Jan didn’t move off him after she freed him but turned around to face her parents while sitting in his lap, which didn’t improve matters, given his body had no sense where she was concerned. It went “Hello” under her sweet ass while he just wanted to bolt into the wilderness.

“Boris, I’d like you to meet my mother, Irma Benoit
, and my dad, Jean Francois Benoit.”

Irma waved, but Jean Francois glared
, and when Jan turned her head for a second, Boris caught her dad making a slashing motion across his throat with one finger.

Definitely not making a good impression.
And he’d better start sleeping with both eyes open. Or find a way to put a bell not just on Jan but also her dad.

When Jan turned back to face her parents, Jean Francois frowned at
them. “You haven’t answered me yet. Did they catch the arsonist?”

“Yes and no. We found a dead stranger who definitely smelled like he was there, that or he
thinks smoke is a cologne.”

“Dead?
You killed him?”

She shook her head.

“So your boyfriend here killed him?”

Boyfriend?
Now wait just a second. Startled, Boris might have said something if Jan hadn’t quickly butted in.

“Nah, Boris didn’t get a chance
to take him out. But he could have,” she said, rising to his defense. “Like I said, we found the guy, in the alley between the complexes. Shoved, it seems, from the rooftop and then shot execution style.”

Her father couldn’t hide his surprise.
“By who?”

Boris
uttered his theory aloud. “I think Gene did it.”

Uh-oh.
When that laser glare veered his way, Boris wondered if he should have kept his mouth shut.

“And who is this Gene person?”
Jean Francois asked.

“An old friend of mine,” Boris replied
, unable to avoid answering.

“Who might be trying to kill him,” Jan added.

“Nice friend,” was her father’s sarcastic reply.

“No worse than some of yours,” said Jan’s mother. “But we can discuss that over breakfast. I
, for one, am starved. Your father drove like a madman to get here and then insisted we find you before feeding me. And I’m sure you’d both like to get dressed, especially your boyfriend, before his face gets any redder.”

Before Boris could protest that he didn’t blush, Jan’s parents left, not far though, given the banging of dishes in his kitchen.

“I can’t believe your parents are here,” he whispered.

Jan didn’t seem to give it the same level of calamity he did. “I know. Aren’t they just great? I mean
, who leaves an all-inclusive vacation in Florida to come back here just because of a few mishaps.”

“Mishaps?
Your life has been in jeopardy a few too many times now.”

“Exciting
, isn’t it?”

He almost choked. “Jan, this isn’t a game. Whoever it is we’re dealing with, Gene, his buddies, or what not, they’re serious, and deadly. You could have died in th
e crash or the fire. Just like you could have been shot.”

“But I wasn’t.
Although you were. Not that your wound stopped you last night.” She tossed him that special grin of hers, and his speech over how they shouldn’t stay together evaporated. He’d broach it later. When he was wearing pants and she was wearing pants and her knife-wielding father wasn’t in the vicinity. Somehow Boris didn’t get the impression daddy dearest would handle Boris dumping his daughter too well—even if his intentions were good.

Whisking off the covers, Boris ignored Jan’s whistle of appreciation, well
, at least, he did. His cock, on the other hand, went to half-mast and bobbed in thanks. He would have thought with all the exercise it got in the last few days it would behave, but no, it really had a thing for Jan.
And so do I.

Sigh.
So much for keeping his hands off. There went that vow. As for keeping her out of his life? He no longer saw that happening. And now he had her family to deal with.

He began to understand how a condemned man felt as the noose tightened around him.

Dressed, armed—two knives, a gun, and a garrote for a tie, which dammit made it look like he was dressing to impress—he followed Jan downstairs to find her father on his couch admiring the rifle he’d had locked in his gun cabinet. It might have occurred to him to ask how he got his paws on it, but he didn’t want to give the old man a chance to brag.

So Boris ignored
Jean Francois, but he couldn’t ignore Irma plating up pancakes and slices of ham—which she must have brought with her because he sure as hell didn’t have that in his fridge.

Given his island was too small to seat the four of them, her parents sat on the couch while he sat on the armchair,
and Jan sat cross-legged on the rug on the floor.

The food was great, even if he did almost choke on his fourth mouthful.

“We’ll definitely need to get you a proper kitchen table and chairs if we’re going to have some nice family dinners,” Jan’s mother remarked.

Jan pounded
Boris on the back as he coughed, and rescue came from an unlikely source.

“Family?
Who said anything about accepting this knucklehead into the family?” grumbled her father.

“Oh please. Anyone can tell he’s smitten with her. Who wouldn’t be? My baby girl is perfect.”

It was Jan’s turn to gasp and wheeze. Withholding a snicker, Boris patted her back.

“Of course, he’s smitten. But it doesn’t mean he’s good enough for her. Or that I approve.”

Irma snorted. “According to you, no one is good enough.”

“I don’t think it’s too much to expect the best for my daughter.”

“No, but given your standards are impossible, I’ll settle for a man she likes. Some of us want grandbabies one day.”

Both Jan and Boris just about died right then. Jan, once she stopped choking
, managed to squeak, “Mom, we just started, um—”

She paused and gave him a panicked look
, but Boris wasn’t sure what to reply.

Exactly w
hat had they started? Obviously claiming they were just fucking wouldn’t go over well. Not to mention, even Boris had to admit they might have gone past that stage just a bit. Being a man of honor, he saved her and threw himself on the grenade. “We’re dating.”

With a smile of relief, and pleasure, Jan nodded her head. “Yes. We’re dating.
As in a couple. Boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Her mother waved a hand and made
a pshaw sound. “Oh, please. You can call it dating, but anyone can see you’re meant for each other. Don’t forget, I know who this boy is. I know what he means to you, baby girl. You know, if he’s proving difficult to get to commit, you could always borrow the family shotgun. It is, after all, tradition.”

“Oh
Momma, really?” Jan’s eyes shone, and she clapped her hands together in obvious pleasure. “I thought after you used it Daddy got rid of it.”

“I tried,” grumbled her father.

Irma casually stomped Jean Francois’ foot. “As if I’d let him destroy a family heirloom. Never fear. I kept it safe just in case one day my baby girl needed it.”