Authors: Vivian Wood
Forever With The Wolf
Werewolf’s Harem Book Five
By Vivian Wood
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“How could I not love you?” Kiley asked, wiping at the tears that started to stream down her face.
Garrett reached out and grabbed her by the arms, pulling Kiley onto his lap. She gasped aloud at the feeling of his warm skin against her own, at the teasing drag of hair on his chest and arms over her sensitive flesh. He positioned her so that she straddled his lap, their mouths crashing together as she pressed her breasts to his broad chest.
Twin moans escaped each of them as Garrett dragged her hips down, pressing them together intimately. When the damp lips of her sex settled against the rigid length of his erection, Kiley sighed and arched her back, grinding against him.
Garrett’s hands shaped her breasts, squeezing hard for a moment before slipping down to cup her ass. He gripped each cheek as he thrust up against her, grunting at the wet slide of flesh against flesh.
Werewolf’s Harem Series
Though these books may be read as standalone stories, we recommend reading them in order for maximum enjoyment.
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Garrett Kiern shot back a fifth measure of tequila, grimacing as it burned all the way into his stomach. He slammed the shot glass onto the rough wooden bar, mouth down. He turned from the bar, leaning back on his elbows as he surveyed the place. It was an unpolished, dark affair, not much more than a simple bar on one side and a few booths on the other. The bar was located on the west side of San Juan, and it drew regulars from all over the Costa Rican capitol for one reason alone: the dance floor. There was a live band on stage, playing a lively merengue tune, and couples packed the broad dance floor below.
All in all, not Garrett’s kind of place. Garrett preferred Irish pubs, the kinds of places a man could be alone with his thoughts and his whisky. Still, he watched the crowd, expectant. It was a Saturday night, and everyone was well-turned out. The men wore simple but clean clothes, dark slacks and white shirts. The women were colorful flowers, dressed in all manner of bright dresses, their lips and eyes lined with carefully-applied makeup. The couples moved to the music, pressed together, hips pulsing against their partners’ bodies.
Garrett sucked in a deep breath. There. Among the crowd. A flash of chestnut hair, the simple lilac dress he’d seen her wearing.
Kiley Russell moved in perfect rhythm, peering up at her handsome, dark-haired fianc
e. Brad Hurst, the luckiest bastard alive, though Garrett was sure Brad didn’t know it. As Garrett watched Brad spun Kiley out, a spontaneous move. Brad took it a little too fast, didn’t hold her quite tight enough, and she stumbled. Kiley slowed and shook her head, the sin already forgiven, but Brad said something harsh to her and she paled.
Breaking from her fianc
e’s hold, she fled the dance floor, making a bee line for Garrett. And damn if the sight of her coming his way didn’t make his traitorous heart skip a beat. He couldn’t help it, though. This is how it was with them, how it had been between them since Kiley and Brad had signed on with Luna Security almost a year ago.
He watched her as she approached, unable to stop himself from admiring her. She was just over five and a half feet, with long, loose dark curls that tumbled to her waist. She was fair-skinned with huge green eyes, perfectly pale pink lips, and a smile that could knock any man into next week. She always wore dresses, usually pastel-colored and to the knee, clinging to her curves in an intoxicating way.
Though she was slim and appeared delicate, she was actually at her best when she was angry. The female could rage and fling barbs like no other, her tongue sharp enough to flay any opponent alive. It was just one of many little surprises, one of many amazing things about Kiley that made Garrett’s stomach churn when he looked at her.
For twelve missions, the eight-person team had been jammed together for job after job, staying in tight quarters, working to rescue kidnapping victims, block illegal arms transfers, and defuse hostage situations. They’d worked in Thailand, New Zealand, twice in Iran, twice here in Costa Rica, once in Brazil…. Shit, they’d even done a job in South Dakota, working on behalf of a group of Native Americans being forced off the land they’d lived on for two hundred years.
Garrett and his business partner Elijah took a variety of special para-military jobs, anything that required delicate handling by a small team of highly skilled operatives. Kiley had joined the team at Brad’s insistence, and they’d needed Brad’s medical field and combat pilot experience for a specific mission. Kiley had come onto the team to be their base command person, doing anything related to communications, research, and tech.
There’d been more to Kiley than just answering phones, though. Kiley’s true worth was in her contacts; she’d been with the CIA for years, recruiting and grooming intelligence assets all over the world. For Kiley, it was as simple as making a new friend. Everywhere she went, she talked to people, learned their stories, asked about their children. Kiley had contacts in every country, from beggars to state ministers, all eager to share a few minutes of small talk with her. When she needed a bit of information, it was as simple as calling an old friend.
Under Kiley’s attentions, their team had flourished. She’d kept up whichever large house they were currently using as their base of operations, the team had become attached to her straight away. It was hard to resist someone who met you at the door with a fresh set of clothes, or made you grilled cheese the way your mom used to make it, or remembered your birthday and got you something meaningful. Those little touches followed them as they globe-trotted, and Garrett knew that the team was going to be sad to see Kiley go, even if the tension between Garrett and Kiley was more than obvious.
Garrett had lived through a full year of watching her on-again off-again relationship with Brad flourish, falter, and blossom, over and over. At some safe houses, Kiley and Brad shared a room. At some, barely a civil word. Watching from afar was all the harder in the times that the two seemed destined to fail, because it gave Garrett hope for something that would never be.
Last night, as the team reconvened at the safe house and closed everything down after their latest foray into the Costa Rican rainforest, Brad had dropped to one knee and proposed. Kiley’s expression had been stricken rather than overjoyed, and every male but Brad looked horrified. They’d had a particularly bad fight the night before, complete with screaming, slamming doors, and some very nasty words coming from Brad’s side.
Still, Kiley had stood there in the kitchen, letting him put the ring on her finger. Just now, at the dimly lit bar the team had come to favor on this mission, was the first time Garrett had laid eyes on her since he’d slammed out of the kitchen last night, unable to stomach her acceptance.
Garrett watched her approach, devouring her with his gaze. He spotted Brad a few steps behind her, and then the rest of the team followed. Elijah’s tall, dark form appeared just behind Brad; with his red-gold hair and beard, Scottish accent, and Highlander build, the man was hard to miss.
Kiley reached the bar, meeting Garrett’s gaze for only the briefest moment before turning away. Brad swooped in, pulling her into his arms, and she laughed. Elijah stepped between Garrett and the happy couple, his dark blue eyes intent on Garrett.
“This is the last mission of theirs,” Elijah said, his thick brogue a familiar and calming sound to Garrett’s ears. “I’m not letting them re-up, no matter what you say. They’re making you miserable.”
Tomas, a tall Brazilian wolf who’d signed on with them three months ago, stepped up and clapped Garrett on the shoulder, nodding at Elijah’s declaration. The sympathy on Tomas’s face made Garrett’s fists clench. He liked the male as much as anyone else, but he didn’t want Tomas’s pity any more than he wanted Elijah’s. Though Garrett desperately wanted Kiley, Kiley had chosen Brad. There it was, plain and simple.
“Tequila!” Tomas shouted to the bartender, holding up three fingers.
“No, eight! This round’s on me, to celebrate!” Brad broke in, dragging Kiley over into the circle where Garrett and Elijah stood.
Garrett crossed his arms, his back ramrod straight, as he stared across the room. When he chanced a look over, he found Elijah in much the same position, which made his lips twitch. His longtime best friend’s solidarity was heartening, he supposed.
The shots were delivered and passed out. Brad raised his high, and the rest of the team slowly mimicked his movement. Brad remained blissfully unaware that the team loathed him, though Garrett had never spoken of his issues to any of them. Still, Brad had a huge grin plastered on his face, and he began to make a toast.
“As you all know, my Kiley has agreed to be my mate. Perfect timing, as our contract is up. It’s been a hell of a year with you all, of course. Kiley, anything to add?”
Brad looked over to Kiley, who blushed and gave her head a sharp shake, frowning.
“All right. Well, bottom’s up then. Here’s to getting what you work for!” Brad declared.
They all took the shots, slamming them down on the bar when they were through.
The warmth of the tequila filled Garrett’s chest, making him feel less lovelorn. Perhaps, with enough tequila and pretty females, this would all be behind him soon. Once he didn’t have Kiley in his space every day, giving him sad looks while she held Brad’s hand, looking miserable while cooing over some minor accomplishment of Brad’s, volunteering to sit closest to Garrett in the car, letting her hand brush his…
Garrett shook his head.
“I’m done,” he told Elijah. “I’m going back to the safe house.”
“Good man. Want me to come along?” Elijah asked, rubbing a big hand over the back of his own neck, looking uncomfortable. Garrett shot him a look, knowing just what he was up to.
“And make you miss your last chance with that dark-haired number?” Garrett asked, tilting his head at the woman at the end of the bar. She was clearly leering at Elijah, and she was a knockout. Though his friend didn’t partake in women often, some remnant of his old guilt, he clearly intended to tonight. Far be it for Garrett to stop him.
“I can come back. Probably should, I want to catch the first flight out…” Elijah started talking himself out of it.
“Come on,” Garrett said, grabbing him by the arm. Dragging Elijah over to the woman, he pushed his friend straight into her, making them embrace rather than tumble to the ground.
Whistling to the bartender, Garrett bought two bottles of locally made tequila. One for Elijah and his new lady friend, one to accompany Garrett back to the house. Tomas caught up with him at the door, and they headed back to the safe house.