Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

“Done deal. What do you want to name us?”

 

 

I barked out a laugh and stretched my long legs. Jericho lifted my feet onto his lap. He slipped off my shoes and began massaging the soles of my feet with his skilled hands. If it’s one thing a guitarist knows, it’s how to use his fingers. I relaxed and something intense flared up between us as he hit all those pressure points that connected to other places in my body. I scooted down, gripping the arms of my chair and resting my left foot on his stomach.

 

“I can’t name your band.”

 

“Why not? I’ve run out of names. It doesn’t matter what we’re called; people will eventually figure out who we are and buy up tickets.”

 

“How about the Douche Bags?”

 

“All right!” he shouted with an enthusiastic nod.

 

“No! You better not.”

 

He laughed softly and stroked the top of my foot. Jericho had callused fingers on his left hand from playing the guitar, so when he touched me, he pressed harder than he did with his right hand because his sense of touch wasn’t as acute. The rough stroke made me feel like his guitar, and I wanted him to tune me up. He sexily bit his lower lip and leaned forward, lifting his chair and dragging it closer. It caused me to bend my knees, turning my foot massage into a leg massage.

 

“Give us a name, Isabelle.”

 

“I’m not good at names.”

 

“You need practice. Someday you’ll have to name your children, so go on and give us a name.”

 

I drew in a sharp breath and held it, as if to speak.

 

“Say it,” he said.

 

“No,” I said in an uncertain tone.

 

His fingers moved up my leg, and all I could feel were his warm hands caressing my inner thigh. He inched his way toward the one place I needed him the most.

 

“Say it,” he whispered, his knuckles brushing against my sex and making me shudder.

 

I watched him with heavy-lidded eyes. “Heat.”

 

He leaned forward and kissed my knee, giving it some rock-star consideration. “I like it. Heat.”

 

“Speaking of, Jericho. I can’t stay at your house if I’m going into heat soon. I need to go to somewhere private.”

 

Jericho leaned back in his chair with a pensive expression. His wet hair had begun to dry, slicked away from his face and revealing his intense features. He had heavy brows that drew attention to his milky-green eyes.

 

“It’s not that I don’t trust my pack, but you’re unmated and that would create a stir. Austin wouldn’t agree to it. I can put you up in a hotel,” he offered. “Sound good?”

 

“I’ll pay you—”

 

“Bullshit, Isabelle. We’re friends, and there are no paybacks. You just named my band so now we’re even. How long do you have?”

 

“About a week.”

 

“Do you want me to stay with you in the hotel?”

 

I laughed. Hell’s bells would that be a royally bad idea. When I went into heat, I usually slept in the nude. Alone. Even my past lovers knew the drill. The pregnancy risk was too high. Human contraception? Forget it. Those who tried it learned the hard way how useless it was among our kind. Maybe humans didn’t care about pregnancy, but Shifters took children seriously, so it was uncommon to see babies born from unmated couples.

 

I thought about Jericho’s suggestion to stay with me in the hotel. My body would be primed—my sexual appetite off the charts. Males can scent a woman during her cycle, and from what I’d been told, it was like aromatic crack. I guess that’s just nature’s way of speeding things along, and it happens among humans too. Only they slap scientific words on it, like ovulation and pheromones. It’s almost laughable how they try so hard to deny that they also have instincts and sometimes succumb to them.

 

“No, I don’t think it’s a good idea if you’re sleeping five feet from me while I’m naked and writhing in the bed.”

 

His eyes darkened a little. “On the contrary, I think it’s an excellent idea.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“This city is filled with Shifters, Isabelle. This isn’t like those small towns we used to live in. They might scent you out in that room.”

 

“Jericho,” I said with a heat in my cheeks. “I don’t want to put you in that position.”

 

He stood up and kicked his chair back. I clutched my chest as he dropped to his knees, gripping the armrests of my chair.

 

“I think it’s about time I clear the air and tell you that I want to be in that position. I want to be in a whole lot of positions with you. If you need to take it slow, we’ll take it slow. I’ve given you space this week because of what that asshole did to you.”