My Plan B (Middlemarch Shifters Book 11) Page 9

  Before she knew it, she was off the bed and scrambling back into her clothes. She thrust her feet into her boots and breathless, charged after him. Had he gone? She hadn’t heard the door and her hearing was good. Always had been. “Jacey, wait!”

  “Bring the condoms,” he said, and this time, she heard the door opening and the echoing slam.

  Chapter Seven

  Jacey strode to Henry’s SUV and climbed into the driver’s side. His hands were shaking, his gut roiling, so great was his relief his bluff had worked. She was coming with him. At least, he thought she was, although he wasn’t sure his idea was a good one. If the press became nosy and hung around Middlemarch…yeah, the other shifters would have reason to evict him from the community.

  Seconds ticked past.

  One. Two.

  He started the engine.

  His wolf whined, but Jacey maintained control, his gaze on the door of the cottage.

  It flew open, and Megan stood in the light spilling from inside. She glanced in his direction, her boots unzipped, handbag looped over her arm, her coat on but unbuttoned against the cold.

  She shivered and paused to zip her boots before she shut the door and hurried to his vehicle. Jacey leaned over and opened the passenger door for her, and she started.

  Her face was pale with two bright spots on her cheeks.

  “Put on your seat belt.”

  She set her bag down and fumbled for the seat belt. The instant he heard the click of it sliding home, he took off.

  In his peripheral vision, he saw the quick looks she flashed in his direction, felt the tension bleeding from him. She wasn’t sure of him, yet she’d jumped and taken a risk on his sincerity. It meant a lot to Jacey, and he wouldn’t forget her leap of faith.

  They drove in silence, Jacey to keep control on his eager wolf and Megan…well, Megan was probably wondering if she’d hooked up with a madman. He drove past the café, closed now, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Not one reporter in sight. Just as he’d suspected.

  They’d heard Megan’s statement and had hurried off to their burrows to file their stories in comfort, out of the chilly breeze that forecast a colder spell.

  A short drive later, he pulled up at Henry and Gerard’s property. His home now since the boys had added a new suite of rooms just for him. There was a private entrance, but he didn’t intend to use that one tonight.

  He parked Henry’s SUV in its usual place and turned to Megan. “Wait there.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again, her features taking on an apprehensive cast.

  Jacey sighed. She didn’t get it, didn’t understand yet, but he’d cut off his right arm before he hurt her. She was the one his wolf wanted, and he, the man, desired her more than he’d coveted another woman since Moira. Good enough for now.

  He strode around the front of the vehicle and opened the door for her.

  She stared at him for an instant before unclicking her seat belt and climbing from the vehicle, her handbag hitched over her arm. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  The lights were on, and he could hear the rumble of Henry’s and Gerard’s voices. The feminine laughter interspersing the masculine chatter brought satisfaction. Gerard deserved his happiness. It pleased him to see the man that felt like another son finding his mate. Now, he had to pray for Henry to heal and find someone to love. Wolves were lucky in that there was always a range of possibilities for mates. Once they took a mate, those possibilities ended until death of one partner.

  He was proof of that with the way his wolf kept insisting on Megan. After Moira died, he hadn’t wanted another woman in the same way. Yeah, he’d started having sex again, but until Megan, he hadn’t met a woman who offered the possibility of more.

  “Come on.” With long strides, he ushered her toward the main door, which led into the communal area of the house. The chatter in the room halted, and he knew his presence and perhaps Megan’s had been noted. Geoffrey barked.

  He opened the door and stood aside to let her enter. She hesitated, her face still pale, and he felt like a brute. His wolf growled and some of that angst bled free. Her eyes widened.

  “Megan?”

  She continued to stare.

  “Have you changed your mind? I can take you home, and we won’t see each other again.”

  “I brought the condoms,” she blurted, and he grinned as a delightful shade of pink flooded her cheeks.

  “Who brought condoms?” London whispered.

  Gerard smirked, her prim English accent never failing to turn him on. God, he loved his English. He squeezed her knee and held a finger to his lips before he glanced at Henry. Geoffrey, Henry’s Jack Russell, lifted his head from his basket and stared toward the hall.

  His friend rolled his eyes, and Gerard wanted to cackle. He held back his amusement and paused the rugby game they were watching on the big screen TV. All three of them turned toward the entrance hall to await further information.

  Instead of heading for his private quarters, or using his private entrance, Jacey directed his guest toward them.

  “Henry,” Jacey said, halting by the low table bearing a vase of white and pink roses. “You’ve met Megan.”

  Henry nodded. “The woman who drunk-kissed me.”

  Gerard heard London’s gasp, her smothered laughter, but he was too busy watching the other players in this conversation to chuckle with his mate.

  Henry remained impassive, but Gerard caught the slight tic in his jaw. Jacey attempted amused but Henry’s words, or maybe it was the kiss, Gerard thought in enlightenment, made Jacey grind his teeth together. Megan Saxon went scarlet. Hmm, curious. Gerard turned his head to wink at London.

  London broke the silence, humor dancing across her pale, freckled features. “Too much wine is a bad thing. I’ve learned that. You end up doing things you shouldn’t, like joining in a zombie run. With obstacles. Big, fat, scary obstacles,” she added with a theatrical shudder.

  “How do you know it was wine?” Megan blurted.

  “It’s my drink of choice, but really, it was a guess. Alcohol in any form can make a person do stupid things,” London said.

  Megan took a huge shuddering breath and turned to Henry. “I’m very sorry I tried to kiss you. I embarrassed you, and I’ve embarrassed myself. It was obvious you weren’t interested, but I kissed you anyway. I apologize. I promise to never do anything like that again.”

  A low growl attracted all their attention, and they turned to face Jacey. He froze, unaware the wolf had bled free until they stared at him. It said a lot about his feelings for Megan Saxon. This, and the fact that Jacey never brought women home, not when they’d been kids running around the Christchurch countryside or teenagers, at least not while he and Henry were around, made Gerard inspect Megan Saxon.

  Blonde hair, trim figure, blue eyes. Above average height. Her commentating skills had impressed him before she’d arrived in Middlemarch, and her presence as a guest for the Sevens tournament had attracted the crowds and made the inaugural tournament a huge success. He bit his lip to halt his snort of laughter because her T-shirt was inside out beneath the blue woolen coat.

  Megan took a deep breath and turned to Jacey. “Jacey, I want to apologize to you again too. I’m sorry you had to witness my stupid drunken behavior. Everything got on top of me and I behaved without considering the consequences.”

  Jacey gave a curt nod.

  “Would you like a drink?” London ran her fingers through her long brown hair. “A glass of wine or a cup of tea? I was just going to make a pot of tea.”

  “No thank you, London,” Jacey said. “Megan and I are off to bed.”

  Henry made a slight spluttering sound while Gerard allowed his amusement free in a loud chuckle.

  “Pop, I’m glad you brought condoms with you,” London said and even kept her face straight. She’d taken to calling Jacey Pop since he was Henry’s father and like a father to Gerard too. London liked Jacey and enjoyed having him around.
“Or rather, Megan did.”

  Her teasing told Gerard that, although he’d worried about their communal living arrangement, he didn’t need to any longer. Three men capable of mowing lawns and dealing with yucky stuff like rubbish and tiny mice seeking warmth in the winter—she could deal, London had informed him.

  “I believe in safe sex,” Jacey replied. “We’ll see you in the morning. It’s my turn to cook breakfast. Don’t be late.” He guided a scarlet Megan past the brown leather couches where they sat, past the music sound system and heating controls on the wall and out of the communal living room.

  There was a moment of heavy silence.

  “You never told us that Megan Saxon kissed you. How was it?” London asked.

  “She kissed my cheek,” Henry corrected. “I wasn’t going to let her kiss me when I knew Jacey was interested in her. Besides,” he added gruffly. “She smelled wrong. She wasn’t Jenny.”

  Gerard leaned back and wriggled to find a comfortable spot. “I’ve never seen him with that macho vibe.”

  “She pissed him off.” Henry brushed back a lock of overlong dark blond hair. “You know he seldom loses his temper, but she’s pushed his buttons and he’s had enough.”

  London made a humming sound, her blue eyes dancing with mischief. “Interesting.”

  “Does it bother you seeing Jacey with another woman?” Gerard asked, deciding to confront that straight off.

  “I’ve met some of the women Jacey has dated, but he’s never brought them home, at least not while I’ve been there,” Henry said. “It makes me think about my mother, but Jacey deserves happiness. I’d never begrudge him that.”

  “Well, at least they have condoms,” London quipped. “We don’t have to give him the safe-sex lecture.”

  Henry spluttered at her irreverence while Gerard shook his head in a sorrowful manner.

  “What? You want a baby brother or sister?”

  Henry’s mouth fell open, and Gerard suspected he mirrored his best friend’s visage.

  “You do both know that sex produces babies? Those rumors about storks and cabbage patches are wrong.”

  “Spank her,” Henry said, but Gerard could tell his friend wasn’t averse to having a baby brother, that the idea of a kid brother intrigued him. Henry wished Jacey happy.

  Good enough. “I’m thinking breakfast might be interesting,” Gerard said.

  Henry met his gaze and agreed with a jerk of his chin.

  “Me too,” London said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Megan followed Jacey, her cheeks burning with a fiery heat. Her hands fisted at her sides, anger burning through her in a cleansing wash. She…he…

  Jacey halted and turned to her. On seeing her expression, he made a soft sound and held out his right hand.

  A growl formed in her chest and it burned as it exited her throat. “You embarrassed me on purpose. You knew—”

  “Knew that my son and his friends would tease you? It was a possibility,” he conceded. “But they did nothing wrong. A little teasing never hurt. You started it by blurting out about the condoms.”

  “I didn’t know anyone would hear,” she cried. “I thought we were the only ones here.”

  “They would divulge nothing you said to the press or anyone outside this house.” Jacey tugged on her hand and moved toward a wooden door. “This is my private suite of rooms. No one will overhear us. No one will disturb us. Gerard, Henry and I all have our own suites where we can be alone or entertain and we share the common rooms—the kitchen, the living room and the dining room.”

  “That’s unusual.”

  “Maybe, but we get on well together and this is our home. I love the two boys and I enjoy London’s company. Enough talk.” He opened the door and pulled her inside.

  Despite planting her weight on her booted feet, his strength popped her through the door like a cork coming free from a champagne bottle. She landed against his chest with a loud oomph as her breath whooshed free.

  Jacey shut the door and flipped the lock.

  Megan shot him a look of panic. He had locked the door. What did he intend to do to her?

  “The lock opens from the inside without a key. You can leave. I’m not forcing you to stay.”

  Megan swallowed, so off-balance she just stared at him, her pulse racing as if she’d run a hundred-meter sprint. She didn’t know what she was doing or why she was doing it, yet she felt compelled somehow. Not that he was forcing her, but it was something deep-seated inside her, a small voice that whispered if she didn’t see where this relationship with Jacey went, she’d regret it for the rest of her days.

  Swallowing for what felt like the nth time, she glanced down and froze. Her handbag dropped to the floor with a thud. “Why didn’t you tell me my T-shirt was inside out?”

  “I didn’t notice until we arrived here.” Jacey closed the distance between them and before she could blink, he’d tugged off her coat and tossed it aside. Seconds later, she no longer wore a T-shirt, and instinctively, she crossed her hands over her naked breasts.

  She hadn’t taken the time to put on a bra, but had stuffed fresh underwear into her handbag along with her toothbrush.

  Jacey tugged her toward the bed. “Jeans off,” he ordered.

  She frowned at his back as he turned away to switch on a bedside lamp. Now that she could see better, she studied the room with interest. A big king-size bed, the décor masculine in shades of brown and cream. Off to the right there was a small lounge area with a two-seater and a flat-screen television. Beyond the two-seater was a sliding door leading outside. With the curtains still open, she could see darkness only—not a single house light or streetlamp. Another wall held a bookcase stuffed full of books of all shapes and sizes. Off to the left, there was another door.

  “The bathroom,” Jacey said, noticing her glance. “You’re still wearing your jeans.”

  She shivered at the note of authority. It wasn’t fear. It was something else, an urge to obey him and a fascination at the way he’d changed from amiable companion to demanding lover.

  Her hands went to the waistband of her jeans before her brain issued the command. She wriggled from the tight denim, then realized she still wore her boots.

  “Let me,” Jacey said, and she saw he was already naked and very ready for the next step. “Sit on the bed.”

  She obeyed in silence and watched his bent head as he lifted her left foot, unzipped her boot and removed it. He said nothing about her lack of socks, but removed the boot from her right foot and helped her to stand.

  Megan removed her jeans and her lacy panties.

  “I thought you were beautiful the first time I saw you,” he murmured.

  Then, with another one of those lightning-fast moves, he scooped her off her feet and dropped her in the middle of the bed. He caged her between his hard body and the mattress, his lips on hers cutting off any chance of speech. He devoured her. There was no other word for it. Her mind blanked as his lips ravished hers, his hands roving her shoulders, her collarbone, her hips and her buttocks.

  Rocked to her core by his passion and her own response, she gripped his brawny shoulders and held tight, kissing him back, exploring his back and the warmth of him. Heat radiated from him, and it felt as if she were on fire inside and out.

  He trailed kisses down her neck and nibbled at the point where her shoulder and neck met. Sparks of pleasure shot to her toes, the nibbles turning to sucking and biting.

  “Jacey,” she murmured against his neck, unsure of what she was asking for. She ran her hand down his broad back and lower to his muscular butt. Jacey thrust his thigh between hers and pressed it against her mound. A low-level simmer sprang to life in her belly, and she moaned, greedy for more.

  “Megan,” he whispered.

  Eyes she didn’t remember shutting flicked open. In the faint light of the one lamp, his face looked tense and stonelike, but his eyes…his eyes glowed with the strange flare of color—a tawny amber that she’d
decided was her imagination. Now she wasn’t so sure. Freaky. A little scary, but she was right where she wanted to be.

  “Megan?”

  “Yes?” She met that blue and tawny-amber gaze without flinching.

  Her reply seemed to reassure him, and he parted their bodies, rearranging them before he kissed her again. Slow. Drugging. Fast. Fleeting. His hand shaped one breast, and he gave the nipple a sharp tug. The shard of pain rocked straight to her sex, the low-level arousal ramping up another notch.

  She moaned, arching her body in a silent demand for more. She’d always enjoyed a little roughness, but most of her past lovers had hesitated to hurt her. Not that Jacey was hurting her. It was more an edge to his touch.

  “I have to taste you,” he said. “Your scent is driving me crazy.”

  He moved away from her again, roughly parted her legs and lifted her to his mouth.

  Oh. Oh! His tongue. It was rough and aggressive and licked down the seam of her folds. His tongue traced a rough circle around her entrance, gathering her juices.

  “Nice.” The husky word vibrated against her flesh, skimming toward her needy clit. He slid a finger inside her, testing her readiness. It thrust inside her, firing nerve endings, yet not giving her enough. His mouth dragged upward toward her clit. He tongued her with a firm touch.

  “Jacey.” His name was a plea, and her hands, which had found their way into his hair, gripped and tugged, urging him to give her more.

  He teased her nub with perfect pressure and filled her with another finger, dragging his digits in and out of her channel in time with the laps and massage of his tongue. She flew up, the pleasure like a rollicking crescendo. She scaled the peak with a sharp jolt of sensation speeding to her toes, then shuddered with rhythmic pulses clutching his two fingers.

  Once her breathing dropped to normal, he moved up the bed and kissed her. This was a slow kiss, one of passion that set her senses leaping to life. She tasted herself on his lips, recognized the scent of arousal.

  “Okay?”

  “Very okay,” she whispered.

  He reached past her and pulled out a condom. She stared at the foil packet in his hand, stared as he ripped it open, stared as he rolled it onto his shaft.