Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(49)

Then he ground as deep inside as he could get and let go.



His alarm clock sounded and he opened his eyes to feel Keely draped on him again.

This time, it wasn’t chest to chest.

This time her chest was over his hips, his morning hard pressing into her tits, head in the bed, the covers tangled around their legs, her round ass, the sway of her back and arc of her neck all he could see.

He ran one hand over that ass and reached the other out to the alarm clock as she shifted, lifting her head, twisting.

The alarm went silent. He felt her eyes on him and looked to her.

It was a few days after their big blowout. Since then, the sex had gone from bionic to stratospheric. With the reminder shoved right up in both of their faces that their time was limited, they obviously were both committed to sucking everything out of it they could get.

Last night was Friday. She’d brought a bag and enough groceries that they didn’t have to leave the house for a month.

He didn’t say dick.

“Gotta take care of Jean, baby.”

She shifted on him, slithering up, putting her face in his, hers was soft and sleepy, something he’d never seen on her. The only time she’d woken up in his bed, she’d had to rush out of it.

He could get used to that look.

Just like he’d gotten used to all she gave him.

Yup.

Burrowing in and sucking out his soul.

And he was the goddamned motherfucker letting it happen.

She touched her mouth to his, whispered, “I’ll be here,” brushed her mouth along the side of his neck then slid off him, reaching to yank the covers up her naked body.

Hound got up to sitting and let himself watch as she settled back in, stretching just an arm behind her to tag his pillow and pull it over her so she could hug and curl into it on her side.

She looked good in his bed.

Then again, she’d look good in any bed because she looked good any time.

He rolled the other way, did his morning gig and moved his ass to Jean’s.

It was not a shower day so he had her taken care of, in her chair and was in the kitchen when she remarked, “I didn’t hear Keely leave last night.”

“She didn’t,” Hound grunted to the skillet he put on the burner.

“She didn’t?”

“Nope.”

“She’s still over there?”

He grinned at the carton of eggs he pulled out the fridge. “Think we went over the fact you know about these modern-times, man-woman gigs, Jean bug.”

“I do know,” she stated tartly. “What’s she doing?”

“Snoozin’.”

“Does she not eat breakfast?” Jean asked.

Hound turned to her. “Say again?”

“Shepherd, I’d like to get to know your girl. We could do that over sandwiches and Jeopardy! but I get tired in the afternoons. I’m bright-eyed now. So before you crack those eggs, get home and ask her if she’d like to join us,” she ended all this on an order.

He was considering the “tired in the afternoons” mention, something he suspected due to her naps, but not something she’d ever spoken about.

He was not liking what his consideration was bringing up when she prompted, “Well? Or, even though the cat’s out of the bag, are you still keeping me all to yourself, leaving your girl right next door when you make excellent eggs.”

With the back of her chair to the kitchen, she was peering around her seat at him.

“Jean—” he started.

“Please go get Keely, Shepherd,” she requested quietly.

Shit.

Fuck.

“Right,” he muttered, stalked to the door, out of it, down the hall to his place.

He went in, moved down the hall and saw that Keely was what he said she was. Snoozing. In fact, she was dead to the world curled around his pillow.

He sat on the bed and put a hand to her hip.

Her body did a soft jump, her eyes opened and she turned her head on the pillow.

“Hey,” she mumbled. “Everything okay?”

“Jean wants to know if you’d like to have breakfast with her.”

She stared at him, sleep receding, then it was him that jumped and it wasn’t light, when the covers and his pillow hit his side with a slap.

She scrambled out of the bed the other way and said, “I’ll … I … a shower might take too long. I just need to, uh … brush my teeth and drag a comb through my hair and …”

She trailed off and turned at the door of the bathroom to look at him.

Hound had tugged the covers off him but other than that was unmoving from his spot on the bed, watching her.

“Do you … are you gonna wait or do you want me to just go over and knock on the door?”

Fuck, she really wanted to have breakfast with Jean.

“She gets why you did what you did, babe,” he told her.

“I … well, I hope so, but, um … I need to get dressed.”

Then she disappeared in the bathroom.

Hound dropped his keys on his (new) nightstand at the base of his (new) lamp then went to the bathroom door.

She was brushing her teeth so vigorously, her bare ass shook while she did it.

His cock started to respond so he looked into her eyes in the mirror.