Wicked Pleasures (15 page)

The woman’s flushed cheeks were swollen. She didn’t
answer.

“How did you get in here?”

“It’s not that difficult, my dear.”

Fear swept through Bronte. “What’s wrong? Has
something happened?” She moved toward the other woman.

“It’s Roark. He’s been hurt.”

Bronte sucked in a breath. “Hurt? How? Is he
okay?”

Miss Deveraux’s bottom lip puckered. “I…I don’t
know.”

Afraid the other woman would collapse, Bronte tucked
her hand on Miss Deveraux’s elbow. “Come and sit.” She didn’t argue
as Bronte led her to the table and helped her sit. “Now, tell me
what happened.”

“He’d been attacked sometime after you’d left. Caleb
found him when he came back from dropping you off.”

“Attacked? By who?”

“Or, by what…” Miss Deveraux shook her head.

“Okay, by what?” Bronte asked.

“A wolf. It must have been. Of course, he’s growing
weaker by the minute.”

Bronte’s knees trembled and she thought she may
crumple as well. She dropped into the closest seat. “What was he
doing?”

Miss Deveraux shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t
know.” Miss Deveraux nodded and her double chin shook. “I think
he’s given up.”

“Roark is a fighter. He’d never give up.” Bronte
knew Roark well enough.

“He’s a prideful man, but even men full of pride can
step back and admit defeat.”

“Defeat in what?”

“In you, my dear. You were our last chance for
survival and…”

Sliding her fingertips over her temples, Bronte
wondered if she’d wake up from this madness. “Me? Your only chance?
That’s crazy. I’m just an average woman. I’m not a half wolf, or
half of anything. Only human! If I were so important, why would
Roark not tell me long ago? Good question, right? Why didn’t he
tell me himself?”

“Definitely a good question, but one you should ask
him. A better question, and one for you to ask yourself, why do you
refuse to remember the truth?” Miss Deveraux got up and said, “Time
is wasting. Mr. Roark is hurt and I have to get back. I won’t force
you to come with me. It’s your decision.”

“Come with you? I just left.” Bronte stared at the
other woman. “How do I know this isn’t a ruse just to get me back
to Roark?”

“You don’t know. You’ll have to trust your
heart.”

Miss Deveraux left the kitchen and Bronte dropped
her head to the table. She wasn’t good at putting puzzles together,
but she did understand that Roark had come to her in her sleep.
There was no denying that truth. He needed her.

Jumping up from the table, she ran to the door. She
had to catch Miss Deveraux—

“Are we ready, dear?”

Bronte swiveled and found Miss Deveraux sitting on
the couch, a magazine open on her lap. “You knew I’d come along
didn’t you, Miss Deveraux?”

The older woman closed the book and stood up. “You
did dream of him last night, didn’t you?”

“You people have to quit reading my thoughts. It’s
driving me batty,” Bronte said with an exasperated sigh.

“It’s just as frustrating for me. You must learn to
control them,” Miss Deveraux said.

“I’ll work on that. Let me grab a few things and
I’ll be ready.”

An hour later, Bronte and Miss Deveraux pulled in
front of the stone house located in an isolated area where Roark
lived. Seeing it in the daylight for the first time Bronte was in
awe at its size and beauty. The man named Caleb opened the
passenger side door. Bronte looked up at him and her breath caught.
He looked a lot like Roark, except he was younger and slightly
shorter. She climbed out of the Prius and gave him a smile. “Thank
you,” she said. The man didn’t respond. However, his deep blue gaze
penetrated her, sending a chill straight into her bones.

Miss Deveraux came up beside her. “My dear, are you
okay? You’ve met Caleb.” Miss Deveraux chuckled as she touched the
man’s shoulder. “He’s part of the family.”

He was a wolf!
She could have guessed that.
“Hi Caleb,” Bronte said. The man didn’t even blink. Although he was
a bit intimidating, Bronte knew he wouldn’t hurt her—at least not
while Roark was leader. Silence seemed to continue for minutes
until he finally nodded and stomped away. “He’s not a very friendly
man, is he?’

“Caleb’s a bit shy. Come along, Bronte dear. Time is
ticking.” Miss Deveraux motioned for her to follow.

Another mention of time ticking
. Bronte
realized how important time was to these people.

She joined Miss Deveraux on the porch. “I’d say
Caleb is more than shy. I think he doesn’t like me,” Bronte
whispered, glancing over her shoulder for listeners.

“Trust me, he likes you just fine. He hasn’t been
around many humans, especially beautiful women. I’d say he’s a bit
awe-struck. You’re a guest now and are highly respected.”

Bronte wasn’t sure if Miss Deveraux wanted to make
her feel better, but Bronte had her doubts about the woman’s
definition of respect. Feeing eyes on her, Bronte searched the
distance and found Caleb standing by an outer building, a scowl
marring his features. She turned to say something to Miss Deveraux
but the woman had disappeared inside. Bronte quickly went along,
shutting the door behind her.

They went up the long staircase, down the darkened
hall and to Roark’s room. “Please leave me alone with him, Miss
Deveraux. This is something I need to do.”

Miss Deveraux’s eyes widened. “I think I
should—”

“I understand you watch over him, but I’m here now.
Please, just a moment alone.”

With only a second’s hesitation, Miss Deveraux
nodded and gave Bronte a semi-smile. “He is ready to have his
bandage changed. Everything you need is on the nightstand. I’ll be
downstairs if you need me.”

Bronte stood at the threshold, gaining her
composure. She wasn’t sure what she’d find, but on the way here
Miss Deveraux had explained that he had a deep gash on his left
side. Of course she hadn’t taken him to a doctor, but stitched him
up herself. Bronte would argue that he needed seen by a doctor, but
knew it’d fall on deaf ears.

Moving into the darkened room, goose bumps spread
over Bronte’s skin. The closed curtains left the room gloomy. She
shivered as she got closer to the bed. A red sheet covered Roark
and all that she could see was his profile. He was sleeping
soundly.

Standing there, staring, she wondered if she should
wake him.
Not yet.
Sitting next to his hip, she waited,
overcome with an urge to let him know she’d returned.
What would
he say?

Breathing in deeply, she inhaled his masculine
scent. How had she allowed her emotions to get involved? Tears
welled and they slipped onto her cheeks. She swiped them away with
trembling fingers.

Carefully, she pulled the sheet downward. He moaned
and she stopped. “Roark?” she whispered.

“Come. Please. Bronte.” His words came out in a
gruff, tired voice.

“I’m here,” she said, but wondered if he was only
talking in his sleep. Waiting a few minutes, she continued to
uncover his side. He was naked, except for the wide bandage
covering his torso. Starting at one corner, slowly, she dragged the
white gauze off his body. Her breath held as she saw the raw
stitched skin. She swallowed another round of tears.
How had he
lived through this?

Gathering control of her emotions, she took the
bottle from the table, recognizing it as the salve Roark had used
on her hand, and dipped her fingers into the clear ointment. With
great ease, she spread the thick salve over the wound. Several
times he jerked and groaned, but he didn’t fully wake.

After applying new gauze and making sure it was
secure, she crawled into bed with him, snuggling to his body. She
wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the moment, she wanted to
pretend that everything was normal.

****

Roark came awake and the first thing he smelled was
Bronte’s scent. He lifted his upper body but discomfort radiated
through his side and down his hip. He remembered that he was at the
gravesite when he was struck in the head at the same time he felt
the excruciating pain. If it had’t been for Caleb he wouldn’t be
alive now…

Once the ache subsided, he turned.
Bronte!
His heart pounded and his gut clenched. He blinked twice…and she
remained.
She came back!

She was sleeping…and lovely.

He couldn’t imagine another woman ever being as
beautiful as she was. Her long black hair hung in waves over the
pillow. Her skin was pale and her cheeks were rosy. The dress she
wore clung to her every sweet curve and his cock came alive.

Sweeping the back of his knuckles along her jawline,
over the line of her neck, he paused at her collarbone. He wondered
what it’d be like to wake up to such loveliness every morning. To
share his life with her, every day until his end.

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. He thought
he’d died and gone to heaven.
She’d actually smiled!
“What
are you doing here?” he asked.

“I leave and the first thing you do is go and almost
get yourself killed. Did you do this to get me to come back?” Her
voice was thick with sleep.

“I wish I could say yes, but truth is, no. I’m
afraid I was caught off guard. My mind was,” he slid his fingers
along the thin straps on her shoulders. “preoccupied.”

“What were you thinking?”

“That you’d gone back and called that bastard you
call fiancé.” He knew his words were drenched with jealousy, but he
couldn’t control his emotions.

“I thought you could read my every thought?” Her
eyes were on him with warmth and tenderness.

“Mostly. Sometimes my own frantic thoughts get in
the way,” he admitted.

“Can you read my mind now?” she asked.

Every nerve ending sparked in alert. “Damn! I sure
hope I’m not mistaken, but I do believe we’re on the same page.” He
rubbed his cock against her hip.

“You’re definitely up for it.” She wriggled her
brows. “However, I think we should let you rest so you can heal.”
Her fingers touched the gauze on his ribs.

“Sweetheart, I don’t mean to brag, but this ain’t
nothing. I’ll heal in hours, and the quickest remedy is a bit of
treasure.” He dipped his hand to her flat stomach and lower until
his fingers skimmed the apex of her thighs. He got a strong whiff
of musky juices and he thought he’d lose every ounce of
restraint.

“Is that what the doctor ordered?” Her eyes
twinkled.

“Of course. Sex is a natural remedy. And if you
think this poor boy needs to rest, I’ll gladly lie on my back and
let you do all of the work.”

She laid her hands on his shoulders and pressed him
back against the pillows. “What is this connection, Roark? Why do I
keep falling and falling deeper into the madness?”

He traced one strap off her shoulder, following the
shape with the tip of his finger. “Do you know why we connect? Is
that why you’ve come back?”

“I know there’s history between us. I feel it
becoming clearer with each second that we’re together. And right
now, at this moment, I need you—I need this.”

“You’re mind opens and closes to me. You’re gaining
power over your thoughts.” He threaded his fingers into her silky
hair.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Me? Afraid? Why would I be?”

“You’ve been hurt. Everyone gets knocked down once
in a while, Roark.”

“It’s not that simple, sweetheart. Some choices come
with drastic consequences.” He swallowed the acid taste in the back
of his throat.

“I want you,” she whispered. “There is no denying
the truth of desire.”

“Don’t deny the feeling. Let it go,” he said.

She brought her lips to his and they kissed with
passion and yearning. He rolled his tongue along her soft lips and
darted it inside her mouth, savoring her like he would a fine, aged
wine. She was bolder and sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted.
He’d lived for many years, and no one could compare.

He dropped his hands to her shoulders and dragged
the straps down her arms, exposing the birthmark, until her chest
was visible to his hungry eyes. Her pink nipples were hard and her
breasts were full. He palmed her soft flesh and flicked the pert
buds, loving the feel of her. “Beautiful. I’ve never seen a better
pair.”

“So you don’t like big breasts?” her chuckle was
deep and throaty, more like a teaser.

“I like yours. They fit perfectly in my palms.” He
gently squeezed them.

As she rolled her head to the side, her hair fell to
his chest, like glossy raindrops against his heated skin. “I like
the way you touch me.”

“I want to see the rest of you. Let me see what
treasure awaits my pleasure.” He pushed her dress lower. She helped
him by sitting back and sliding the garment from her legs. All that
remained was a wisp of lace. “Those must go.” He slid his fingers
under each string of her panties and in one jerk, he snapped the
threads and they fell from her hips. He tossed the useless
material.

She lifted herself up, straddling him and her thighs
were in a wide V. Her pussy opened in invitation. He lifted his
fingers to her center and rolled the pad of his thumb across her
moist lips then thrust his middle finger into her. With each pump,
her breathing became heavier and ragged. He knew she was close to
release and he wanted to please her. Her tongue darted out to
smooth over her bottom lip.

Waiting was no longer an option…

He grabbed her hips and tugged her down onto his
stick. Her tight muscles eased around his girth and he counted to
ten, demanding that his cock behave. He wasn’t ready to allow
nature to avail—wanting to give her pleasure.

As her body accustomed to his size, she rode him,
lowering deeper, and then lifting to the tip of his cock, and she
rounded her hips in a delicious circle. He bit his bottom lip until
he tasted blood. He would go too quickly, and that was
unacceptable.