Dreaming of the Wolf (Heart of the Wolf #8)(78)

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m a kangaroo in bed. You’ll probably decide to sleep in one of the other bedrooms once we furnish them. Or on the couch.”

With only the bottom sheet on the bed, he maneuvered her over to the mattress and began pulling up her shirt. “The couch.”

“Yes, in case I fight you too much at night.”

His fingers pushed through her hair, and he cupped her head as he leaned down to kiss her mouth. “You won’t move an inch when we’re together, and we won’t need but half that bed to sleep on.”

A promise was a promise, and making love with Jake was only the beginning of fulfilling that promise. No matter how tender or rough or rushed or slow and measured his moves were, he was the perfect lover.

The bedroom was cluttered with packing boxes and the newly painted walls were bare. The bed had no other coverings but the one fitted bottom sheet—silky cotton, no pillows, just she and Jake and their bared bodies as he pulled off her clothes and then his. She loved the way he wanted her, as if he couldn’t get enough of being with her. That she was beautiful and desirable, and she prayed he’d always feel that way about her. As she prayed she’d always feel that way about him.

He took his time pleasuring her, stroking her, making her wet and aching with need, only stopping to suckle a breast or kiss her mouth or slip his tongue between her parted lips, stirring her desire to have him deep inside her, thrusting and taking pleasure in her.

She slid her hands over his hard muscles, loving the feel of his smooth skin, the rough hair on his chest, his puckered, aroused nipples, his rigid sex rubbing against her in urgent desperation.

She wanted him. Needed him. Craved him.

He kissed her throat, trailing a hot, wet tongue down her breast, stopping briefly to lick her nipple, then down to her navel. He kissed and licked her there, sending her senses reeling in a whirling pool of desire. Her fingers combed through his thick hair, her body arching as the ache between her legs intensified.

And then he was stroking her most intimate spot, wringing her senses in the most erotic way. She fought crying out as her heated body rose, the wave building pleasure higher and higher. Like the rising crescendo from a well-orchestrated piece of heaven, she felt uplifted until the climax hit, pulsing through her and staggering in its pleasurable sensation. He was in her before she barely had begun to sink into that dreamy state of complete satisfaction, thrusting, massaging her breasts with loving tenderness, and kissing her lips with sizzling passion.

God, he was beautiful. She hadn’t believed women could have orgasms. Jake proved she was wrong. Over and over again. Just his tongue simulating sex, the way he thrust it into her mouth, could give her a near orgasm. His body rubbing hers, his finger stroking her, his mouth teasing her nipples into submission. The way he moved into her brought her again to that higher plane of existence—to that other world of blissful sexual fulfillment.

And when he came, she felt the trembling sweet exhilaration in joining with him again.

“Hmm, Alicia,” Jake mouthed against her breast and then licked a nipple, lifting his head to study her with a contented smile on his face. “If you don’t mind, I’ll call Darien and Lelandi and tell them we won’t be going over there for dinner tonight.”

Alicia smiled and caressed his whiskery chin. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“But,” he said, running his hand over her belly in a loving way. “It doesn’t mean you’ll go without supper.”

Supper consisted of homemade beef stroganoff and a glass of milk. And Alicia realized what a bargain she’d gotten in Jake when she’d mated with a wolf who could cook gourmet-style meals. Then it was back to bed, and sleep would come next as Jake fulfilled the first of his promises. They’d only use half the bed as he tucked her into his arms and held on tight, and he wasn’t sleeping on any couch, ever.

***

Early the next morning, they left for Breckenridge to check out her mother’s safe-deposit box. Alicia hadn’t thought they would need all that much firepower, but Darien wasn’t taking any chances and several of the men in his pack had volunteered.

Darien was staying close to Lelandi at home in case she had the triplets early, but Jake and his brother, Tom, accompanied Alicia, along with Peter and a half dozen other men from the pack.

At least she felt safe. She was nervous about what might be in her mother’s safe-deposit box, though. As she rode up to the bank in a black Suburban, with another leading the way, she felt like she was a member of an FBI team on a SWAT mission. That was much different from driving around in her little red Neon when she was about to serve a warrant.

Going to the bank should have been a private affair, with Jake at her side and her bodyguard force tagging along. But after all the incidents in the past—her mother’s murder, the shooting on the trail, her own planned disappearance, and her false-pregnancy faux-fainting episode at the art gallery, she feared that Detective Hanover’s father, the chief of police of Breckenridge, might get wind of her reappearance and send a patrolman to question her. What if the word had gone out to be on the lookout for her?

That’s the way she felt as she entered the bank. The three tellers turned to look at her, smiles disappearing to be replaced by looks of surprise. And two of the loan officers’ expressions mirrored theirs. But then again, maybe it was because of the handsome men Alicia had accompanying her. Not often did one enter a bank with an entourage of wolfish-looking guys.