Business With Pleasure (Empathy in the Preternatural PNW Book 2) Page 10

  “You’re a fine little thing,” he said, making a show of looking me over from head to toe. I jerked a thumb at Owen.

  “For tonight, I’m his fine little thing.”

  The wolf winked, nodding. “Gotcha.” Turning back to Owen, he tipped his head slightly. “No disrespect meant.”

  Owen shrugged. “She’s an attractive woman.”

  The subject closed, they moved on to payment, using code words that I didn’t understand and didn’t particularly care to. The woman emerged first, shouldering the unconscious man as she stepped out of the kitchen. Without a word to us, she hauled ass toward the front door, her hands holding the body in place. I watched in shock, thinking about how sometimes I was too tired to carry Chloe’s cat, let alone an adult male human person strapped with weapons and body armor. Her partner looked equally as strained—that is to say, not at all—as he hefted the second man. He, too, silently crossed the room and left through the door.

  The woman came back in shortly after, her face blank. Probing her slightly, I did my best to see what exactly she was feeling about this odd situation. She looked normal enough, wearing dark jeans and a billowy blouse. I considered that, even with the werewolf nearby, I couldn’t detect her even slightly. When it dawned on me why, I noticed she was staring back at me. My eyebrows shot up and she gave me a half-smile.

  I swallowed, realizing she’d caught on to my ability before I’d caught on to hers, and I stepped back, giving her an apologetic nod. I’d only formally met one other empath in my life and, while I hadn’t been able to read him, he’d considered me an open book. I wondered if it was the same this time or if my shields had gotten any better than when I’d been young.

  When her partner came back in, they whispered something to each other before addressing their attractive boss with only, “Sir?” When he waved a hand vaguely in their direction, they both turned and left through the front door. I had the fleeting thought, as she left, that it must be hell spending all that time with a werewolf. Either she was numb to it, or she knew tricks I really needed to learn.

  “Should we deliver them back to Madeline?” the wolf asked. Owen crossed his arms and I turned my attention to his emotions. He was still unbothered by the situation. Thinking on the question, he shrugged a shoulder.

  “Why not?”

  They kept up their discussion and let myself go a bit, starting to feel a bit more comfortable now that the danger was outside. Granted, Owen had knocked the danger out and bound the men with plastic cuffs, but it still felt better having them out of the house.

  The discussion going on in front of me was clipped and serious, and I zoned out without meaning to. I didn’t realize my relaxation was letting the werewolf’s emotions get to me until I found myself staring intently at Owen’s bare forearm.

  He was wearing a white shirt with tiny vertical stripes, and I sighed wistfully at the way the rolled fabric of the sleeves bunched around his arms. Moving my gaze upward, I caught a look at his jaw, the way the muscles there moved as he spoke. I could happily think about how nice it would be to run my tongue along his skin, how it would feel to give him a little nibble. My gaze took in his chin, his lips, swept down to his chest and of course, kept going south.

  When I felt the blood flood my major erogenous zones, I lifted my arms, crossing them over my breasts. The werewolf made a low sound of appreciation and I turned my attention to him sharply. He was grinning at me.

  Yes, it was wolfish.

  “I think she likes you,” he said, addressing Owen. A small smile touched Owen's lips but he didn't say anything in response. This was somehow even more embarrassing than if pointed at my boobs and named my erect nipples.

  “Um,” I squeaked, taking a step back. Clearing my throat, I ran my gaze around the room. “I’ll be…outside.”

  The wolf gave a knowing chuckle.

  My cheeks were burning as I rushed through the French doors out into the sunroom, where our plates and the offending wine glasses sat forgotten. Realizing I could still feel the werewolf’s lust in my brain, stuffing my psyche like cotton, I fled out the side door. The rain tickled my forehead, and I let out a quick breath, moving along the deck to the short steps that led down into the yard. The ground was cold against my bare feet, but I welcomed the discomfort.

  After I felt I was a suitable distance from the werewolf’s stupid lust energy, I took a deeper breath, surveying the yard.

  It was large, both deep and wide. The stone fence was low at the back, allowing me a view of the Puget Sound. Tall trees dotted the grass, likely making for great shade when the sun was out. A pool that might have been Olympic-sized jumped with every raindrop off to my right, separated from a covered sitting area by an attractive stone walkway.

  I followed the walk to the covered area, dropping into a plush lounge chair. Leaning back, I looked up, watching the rain spit at the clear glass. I glanced briefly at the house to see if I could spy Owen or the werewolf through the windows, but they were out of sight.

  “Okay, then,” I mumbled, letting myself relax in stages. I swung my legs over the lounge and rested my hands in my lap. I concentrated on breathing, on the cool air and on how this rainy yard was not sexy. There was nothing going on that should have made me feel either horny or angry.

  Come on, hormones, back off, I insisted. With the better part of a large yard and a thin curtain of rain separating me from the wolf, I slowly started to feel like myself again.

  Chapter Ten

  I might have nodded off, or it might have just been a very short time before Owen came outside. I opened my eyes to see him standing over me, watching me in silence. Wondering what he had to say for himself, or about my intense ogling inside, I considered him. He said nothing, just continued to stare down at me. I prodded with my empathy, opening myself up enough to search him. Nothing exceptional hit me, meaning he wasn’t standing there unfavorably judging me. That was something, at least.

  “This has certainly been the most interesting first date I’ve been on,” I said after a moment.

  “Has anyone else cooked you dinner, tossed you in a bathtub, and then exploited your abilities?”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t my empathic abilities they were using for their own gain.”

  Owen smiled.

  “I’m sorry,” he lied.

  “No,” I said, watching him. “You’re not.” He didn’t feel he’d done anything wrong, so what did he have to apologize for?

  He nodded. “Fair enough. But I’m not happy this all happened.”

  “That’s the truth. Though you enjoyed the fight.” I wagged a finger at him, then held my hand propped up on the armrest next to him.

  “You’re handy,” he said.

  “I can be,” I responded, reaching up to his shirt. He tipped his head down to watch the action, but he still felt surprise when I grabbed the fabric over his belly and tugged. Immediately he put one foot forward to balance, but I brought my other hand up, grabbed closer to his collar and held on. Some of the residual lust of the evening was still percolating in my brain. I could feel the wetness of the rain on his shirt, but underneath his skin was warm. His hands spread out, grabbing the armrests of the chair for support as I forced him to bend over me. Pushing upward, I pulled him into a kiss.

  I didn’t bother starting slow. I bit his lip, shoving my mouth against his as I poked around his psyche. He was pleased, a little surprised, and more confused than I would have guessed. I liked the confusion. After a night of being confident, even in the face of armed strangers, the fact that I’d yanked him down for a kiss threw him off. I tugged on his shirt harder, letting my tongue press his. Keeping one hand on his chest to hold him in place, I slid my other hand down to his hip to work at the hem tucked into his pants.

  Excitement flooded out of him, and I let it overtake me as I got my hand under his clothes to his skin. Feeling caught up in the moment, I shoved his shirt further out of his pants and ran my fingers over his fabulous abs to the button on his
khakis.

  He jerked away suddenly, his emotions a mix of glee and panic.

  I yanked my hands back, holding them up like I was surrendering to the police.

  “What?” I asked, looking around to see what danger he’d sensed that I hadn’t. He stood over me, eyes a touch wide, and I met his gaze. “What is it?”

  “Sorry,” he said, and this time he was being truthful. “I just…” He trailed off, his face going uncharacteristically sheepish. He tugged his shirt all the way out of his pants, letting it hang over his fly. “I have a gun holstered there.”

  I raised a brow. “By your dick?”

  “It’s small.” An amused frown crossed his face before he clarified, “The gun.”

  I snorted, swinging my legs over the side of the low chair to sit up. This put me roughly eye-level with his, er, gun. He stared down at me, a peculiar expression on his face. After a moment, we both gave in to a tense laugh and I held my hand up to him. He took it, pulling me up and against his body. We watched each other for a moment, hands clasped. I left my free hand dangling by my side because, honestly, I wasn’t sure what we were doing.

  “So. Does this mean the date’s over?” I asked quietly.

  “I hadn’t planned on kicking you out.”

  I made a tsk-tsk sound. “Well, I’d say putting a gun between me and your penis sends the wrong message, then.”

  He laughed, and it might have been the first fully genuine laugh I’d heard from him all night. We’d shared laughs, chuckles, maybe even a chortle or two. But this time there was surprise behind the sound, like he really hadn’t expected the joke I’d made. It was as if every other time I’d quipped he’d seen it coming in some form or another, but liked it despite that. It made me feel proud for getting to hear it, getting to feel the fullness of it in my own belly. Shaking his head, he slid his free hand around to my back, tucking his fingers under my jacket to touch the skin along my spine.

  “I wanted a back-up in case something else went wrong.”

  “Ah,” I said, suddenly feeling a bit of the discomfort from earlier. Fighting it, I kept myself as jacked into his psyche as I could. He was an interesting man to be around. I hadn’t seen him angry or scared, like he just didn’t bother with certain feelings. I wished I’d been able to deal with the evening the same way.

  Being aware of what he was feeling made me want to touch him, to undress him. I wanted to pull him against me, get inside of him and have him wrap around me. It was a male instinct, but I could dig it.

  Slowly, I moved his shirt out of the way and touched his hip, then his back. The rain pattered the glass above us; it was definitely heavier now.

  “Time to go inside,” he said, his mouth close to mine.

  “As euphemisms go, that one’s pretty blatant.”

  Our next kiss was all teeth, both of us laughing.

  “I want to have sex with you. How’s that?” Moving his hand upward, he cradled my throat, pushing at my jaw with his thumb. When I obliged and leaned my head back, he ducked in and gave my neck a soft bite. My eyes had drifted closed and I felt my hands tense, fingertips pushing against his back. Moving his mouth to my ear, he mumbled, “Blatant enough?”

  “Back in the house,” I demanded, shoving at his body with mine. Happy with my response, he winked before turning, separating us except for our clasped hands. The rain was a shock to the system and I made a small sound of discontentment. I really didn’t want to be standing in the cold rain right then. The sooner we got into the house and out of our clothes, the better.

  Still a gentleman, despite the fact that I’d practically asked out loud, ‘would you please put your penis in me?’ he let me go first up the deck steps. He opened the sliding glass door for me, followed me in—making sure to lock it—and then followed me into the living room through the French doors. I turned to watch as he grabbed the doors, pulled them together and closed them, his hand sliding up to the lock at the top of the left one. As he slammed the bolt into place, I let go of my willpower.

  I grabbed his arm, pulled it and ignored the slight resistance as he double-checked the lock. I snaked my other hand around to the front of him, yanking at the collar of his shirt to pull him against me. Obligingly, he curled his tongue against mine in a frantic kiss that shot lightning through my limbs. When I let out a soft sound, it seemed to release a dark impatience inside of him. It leapt up, clawing its way outward and into me. I wanted to tear at him, shred his clothes, pin him down and have my way with him.

  His hands weren’t gentle as they slid between us. I protested when he spread us apart. I think I actually growled when our lips separated and he shifted to grab at the fat buttons of my jacket. Abruptly, as he got the last button undone, he shoved his hands inside, squeezing my waist through the thin fabric of my camisole.

  I threw myself at him, pressing into his groin with my own. Before I could kiss him again, he angled his head, nosing my chin aside. He bit me twice in rapid succession, hard enough that a tiny flutter of shock flapped in my chest. It chased out the aggression we’d shared and brought me back to my own emotions, making me worry about how fast I’d gotten caught up in his intense passion.

  Determined to feel in control again, I cupped his face, turning his mouth to mine. I made the kiss aggressive, biting his bottom lip and sliding my hands down to grasp his shoulders. Twisting us both, I put his back to the couch, nudging him toward it. He took the time to pause and kick off his shoes, but moved with me, our hips matching each other like a dance. As soon as we were close enough, I grasped the bottom of his shirt, pulled away from him and yanked it up above his head.

  Meeting his intense blue eyes under his tousled hair, I held the shirt in one hand, dangling it at my side. When he tried to tug at my hips, I placed my other palm on his chest and locked my elbow. His expression was dangerous as I held him at arm’s length. Shifting my stance to lean back, as if trying to get the whole picture in one glance, I pushed away until only my fingertips touched him.

  Taking my time, admiring his physique, I let out a small sound of appreciation. Giving him a smile to rival the one the werewolf had given me earlier, I leaned in, using my fingertips to propel him back onto the couch. Surprised by the action, he landed crooked, but I liked the way his body tensed as he did.

  Pleased by the fact that I’d shocked him, even for a millisecond, I dropped his shirt to the ground and moved in close as he shifted to sit up. As much as his drive to take me was still scraping at my insides, I needed the space between us for just a little longer to get my head on straight.

  Moving my gaze back to his, locking our eyes, I shifted my shoulders to slip my jacket off, trying to make the move as sexy as possible. I ignored the awkward thud of my phone in the pocket as it hit the floor. Extending his arms, he grasped the edges of my skirt, and his gaze dropped as he tucked his thumbs between the fabric and my skin.

  Our eyes locked again as he slid his hands slowly up, over the backs of my knees, along my thighs, his hooked thumbs moving my skirt closer to my waist. I felt my breath start to come quicker, and despite my attempts to remain aloofly sexy and intense, I knew my cheeks had gone pink.

  When I felt my narrow skirt lock up around the middle of my thighs, unwilling to go any further, I smiled. Frustration lashed out of him, smashing against me as he was forced to pause. Blinking at his stalled hands, he shifted to sit up straight and slid himself closer. I lifted a hand and ran my fingers through his hair, curling them into a fist and tugging back a bit. Neck extended, head forcibly tilted, he bared his teeth in a tough smile. His hands were still on my thighs, his thumbs still hooked under my skirt as I pulled him back roughly and bent down. I gave the kiss bite, part of me wanting to see the mark my teeth would leave on his bottom lip.

  As I pulled out of the kiss, I breathed against his lips. “The skirt’s gonna have to come off.”

  “I agree,” he murmured. Without waiting for me to stand up straight, he moved his hands possessively over my hips and my
butt, searching out the zipper. I reached a hand back and stopped him, hooking my fingers into his as I stood up again. Arms wrapped around me, he watched my face until I loosened my grip on his hair. When I dropped my hand to his shoulder, he lowered his chin and moved his hands away. Leaning back into the couch, he looked up at me, curiosity rising in him just enough to fight the colossal desire thrashing about.

  When I realized he was fighting his urges for my benefit, I relaxed slightly, doing my best to separate my emotions from his, making sure I wasn’t losing him with my attempts at dominance. Sure, there are times when I can go for following the whim of my partner. It can be fun to let a man touch you the way he wants, undress you when he wants, and decide how far and how fast the sex will go.

  I wasn’t in the mood for that tonight. So, if Owen wasn’t going to play my way, I would pack up my vagina and go home.

  His steady gaze let me know he didn’t mind. I bent my left knee slightly, knocking it against his leg, but he didn’t move. I lifted a finger, making a swirling motion before I pointed toward his groin.

  “You should pull that out before we go any further.” His eyebrows wiggled lasciviously and I laughed, knowing I didn’t need to clarify, but doing so anyway. “The gun.”

  Keeping our eyes locked, he moved his hands to his pants, unbuttoning and then unzipping with a certain level of flare that I approved of. Instead of showing me what lay under the zipper, though, he pushed to his feet, slid a hand behind my neck and pulled me into a quick, open-mouthed kiss. The tickle of his fingers on my skin was electric. There wasn’t time for tongue before he rounded the couch and headed away.

  “Hold that thought,” he said without looking back. I watched him walk toward the back hall, calm as if he was grabbing a book I had asked to borrow. While I waited for him to unload his weapon, I unzipped the skirt and slid it off. I held it for a bit, suddenly lost in the realization that I’d missed a perfectly good opportunity to make a joke about packing heat. Shaking off my disappointment in myself, I tossed the skirt over the back of the chair to my right. I yanked my top off as well, draping it over the chair and then turning toward the hall, eager to watch him come to me.