Everything went bright and silent, perched on the edge of brilliance in that instant before the whole world changed.
He lifted his lips from her breast, wanting to drink her gasps, her sighs, her moans, and met hers coming down. Then he did to her mouth what he was doing to her body—claiming it, possessing it, making it his.
He’d been afraid he would never be able to do this again—not just with Becca but with anyone, even himself. He should have known if there was anyone on this earth who could get him hard, keep him that way, then make him come as if the world was ending—or maybe beginning—it would be her.
He ended the kiss, gazed into her face, which was slightly above his and just a bit dazed. He felt that same.
“That was epic,” he said. He hoped he hadn’t broken the condom.
“Epic,” she echoed, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows.
That wrinkle always meant she was thinking. Which always led to trouble.
Speaking of trouble. Now that he’d thought about breaking the condom, he was terrified that he had. Wouldn’t that just be great? Knocking her up at twenty-eight after managing not to at eighteen?
Would her father gloat about being right that Owen had finally managed to ruin her life? Or just kill him and be done with it? Owen thought he’d prefer the latter. He was certain Dale would too Reggie barked, out in the woods still, but Becca’s head spun toward the sound. Her movement caused a slow slide down low and Owen grabbed his dick and the condom before disaster happened. He cast a silent thank-you to the dog for the distraction, which allowed him to dispose of the evidence in an old plastic bag before Becca even realized what was going on.
Having sex in the back of a pickup had never been ideal, even when they were young enough for it to make sense.
“We should probably go.” She reached for her shirt.
“We should probably talk.” He reached for his.
“What about?” The question was muffled as she pulled the garment over her face.
He did the same. “What do you think?”
“We had sex, Owen. It wasn’t the first time.”
He didn’t want it to be the last, but he wasn’t quite sure how to say that without screwing up so badly he would assure that it would be.
“I hope it isn’t the last.”
He blinked as his words came out of her mouth.
“You aren’t leaving.”
“I am,” he insisted.
“I meant—” She reached for her panties and pants. “Not right away.”
“No,” he agreed.
“Then we don’t have to stop.”
He almost asked what had changed since that morning, when she’d said she didn’t want to see him any more while he was here. But, really … He didn’t want to know why. He was just glad that it had.
“Unless you want to,” she continued when he remained silent.
“Hell, no,” he said. In fact, his penis, which had been unresponsive, to say the least, for months, now twitched at the sight of her bare bottom in the twinkle of the early afternoon sunshine. Apparently it didn’t want to stop either. And that was so fantastic, he didn’t notice at first that she’d stilled, head tilting, forehead crinkling, listening to— The long, low, not distant enough howl of a wolf.
“Shit.” He grabbed his own underwear and jeans. “Reggie!” He whistled.
“She won’t hurt him.”
“She already did.”
“Not on purpose.”
“How do you know?”
She bit her lip and didn’t answer.
The idea of that wolf, or any wolf, and his still injured dog tangling out there where he couldn’t stop them had Owen’s heart pounding nearly as hard as it had not so long ago, but for a much less pleasurable reason.
A gunshot sounded.
The two of them scrambled out of the truck and ran for the trees.
*
The howl that rose before we’d gone more than fifty yards was distinctly different from the original.
Dog howl, not wolf howl. That couldn’t be good.
“Go,” Owen said. “Don’t wait for me.”
I didn’t have to be told twice. I went.
I glanced back once; he was doing amazingly well. His gimp seemed a lot better. Which made no damn sense at all. But what did lately?
In a copse of birch trees, the sun glancing off their autumn-yellow leaves, the wind rustling them and making the sound of ghostly whispers, Reggie sat next to a prostrate Pru, nose tilted upward, howl vibrating his throat. They were alone. No one with a gun, at least that I could see. I probably shouldn’t blaze into the open, but I didn’t have much choice.
“Hush,” I ordered as I did just that.
Reggie lowered his snout. Hurt.
I went to my knees next to Pru. My fingers fluttered over her blue-black fur. I didn’t see anything, not even blood. “Where were you shot?”
Pru lifted her head, but almost immediately it fell back down. Her “voice” was weak.
New Bergin.
“That’s a hundred and fifty miles from here.”
Her chest heaved faster than it should, even for a wolf. Wasn’t today.
“I heard a shot.”
Wasn’t at me.