Lifemate Connections: Eryn

Chapter Eight

"Happy Birthday, Jack." Eryn raised her wine glass and clinked it lightly against his. "How does it feel to be over the hill and fast approaching forty?"

"Old." Amusement touched his blue eyes. "And I'm still waiting for this goddess you reckon is out there. I think I'm about ready for a woman to call my bluff and enrich my world."

She grinned. "Maybe said goddess knows you're still not ready to settle down. Maybe she's right under your nose, and you're just not looking down."

He raised an eyebrow, the amusement in his expression becoming decidedly sexy. "The woman under my nose right now is one I'd willingly party with, only she keeps refusing my offers."

"Because you're not really serious."

"Aren't I?"

"No." She took a sip of wine, then pointed with her glass at the redhead dancing with Bob. "Amy's been known to throw a lustful look or two your way."

"She's not serious, either. Trust me on that."

"You've flirted?"

"I flirt with everyone. She ran away faster than most."

Eryn grinned. "Maybe she has deep feelings she's afraid to reveal."

"I doubt it." He took a sip of wine, then said, overly casual, "So, how's your life been lately?"

She shrugged, feigning an indifference she didn't feel.

"Same old same old." Back to working with boring old farts and wondering if her sex drive had upped and left.

It had been six months since she'd last seen Grey. Trust him, he'd said. Wait for him, he'd said. Well, she had, and she would, but the hope that she'd actually see him again was beginning to fade.

"You sure you don't want to come work with me?" Jack said. "We really could use your nose on a permanent basis."

"I'll think about it."

"You will?" He raised his eyebrows. "I've been nagging you for months—why the change of heart?"

"Maybe I'm tired of working with boring old farts."

"Well, I've got the paperwork all written up. Just give me the word and you're mine."

She grinned again. "Jack, I will never be yours."

His sigh was sorrowful—an effect spoiled by the cheeky gleam in his eyes. "Ain't that a sad truth. You want to dance?"

"Nope. I might go out and get some fresh air. This room is feeling a little close." Besides, she was feeling a little depressed. Or maybe even a little sorry for herself. And definitely a little angry at Grey for making promises and not keeping them.

She finished her drink in one gulp that had her head swimming, then made her way through the dancers and headed toward the backyard.

Outside, the warmth of the day still lingered, and the night was still and bright. She closed her eyes, raising her face to the silvery light of the full moon, feeling the power of it wash through her veins. Some shifters, and not all of them children, believed the full moon had the power to grant wishes. It wasn't something she believed in.

And the moon had certainly never granted any of her wishes.

She blew out a breath and opened her eyes. The music from the room behind her throbbed across the night, a rich sound reminding her of that first night in the bar, and the moment her gaze had met Grey's.

And once again, she experienced the sensations of that incredible moment. Her heart leapt to her throat, and her breathing stalled as the world around her seemed to fade into silence. Fierce desire surged, burning her skin, sending little beads of perspiration skittering across her flesh. And all she wanted to do was find him, press herself against him. Feel him on her, in her.

The memories were so strong, her reactions so fierce, that, for a moment, it was easy to believe that he was here, that the reactions were real rather than a response to memory.

But the night remained silent except for the music and the distant wash of sea against sand. The air was filled with the scent of the many wildflowers inhabiting Jack's untended lawn, as well as the mellow aroma of alcohol. Raw masculinity and thick desire—the only two scents she could classify as Grey's—weren't even a blip on the smell radar.

She crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping the extent of Jack's small yard. Suddenly, she felt too confined by boundaries. She needed to be alone, needed to run, needed to go… where?

The wash of water seemed to grow stronger. The sea. She needed to go see the sea. She didn't question the desire, just turned around and walked back into the house.

"Jack," she shouted, once she'd spotted him. "I'm going for a walk."

He gave her a wave of acknowledgment. She grabbed her cardigan, just in case the wind was cooler down near the water, then, after wrapping it around her shoulders, she headed out.

The streets were silent, still. No surprise, considering it was nearly three in the morning. She smiled, enjoying the peace, letting it fill her, calm her, as she strolled toward the ocean.

The wind down near the sand was every bit as cold as she'd thought it was going to be. She stopped near the steps and leaned against the railing, watching the moonlight play among the waves, wishing Grey was here to enjoy it with her.

Damn it, why couldn't she stop thinking about him tonight?

"Perhaps because I don't intend to let you stop thinking about me," he said, his voice so close it whispered heat past her ear. "Not tonight, not ever."

Her heart did a giddy little dance, and a gasp that was all joy escaped her lips. But as she tried to turn around and face him, he stopped her, his hands so warm, yet so unbelievably gentle on her arms.

"I don't know whether to kiss you silly for coming back," she said, leaning back against him. His arms slid around her waist, holding her tight. She closed her eyes, and somehow found the strength to add, "Or smack you senseless for the heartache you've caused me."

"I'm sorry." His lips brushed her ear, sending a flash fire of desire surging through every nerve ending. "But I dared not risk seeing you again until I'd filled out the appropriate paperwork and had all the right approvals."

"You're kidding?" She leaned her head back and met his gaze. His eyes were as bright and as silver as the moon.

Perhaps the moon had listened. Perhaps she'd bought him back to her.

"Not kidding," he said, brushing his fingers down her cheek. She trembled, and his gaze darkened imperceptibly. "I told you, the mob I work for is top secret and highly classified. Anyone I intend to see on a permanent basis has to be fully checked out."

"And that took six months?"

"Bureaucracy." He shrugged.

"So I'm approved?"

"Oh, yes."

She smiled and raised a hand, hooking it around his neck.

"And what about this business of seeing me permanently—

don't you think I should have had a say in that before you cleared it with your people?"

"I believe," he said softly, his smile evident in his voice, "that we have already discussed the matter. You agreed to be mine."

Her knees did their usual "almost unable to support you" act. "I believe I was insane with lust at the time."

"Ah." Mischief shimmered in his eyes. "Meaning I'll have to get you mad with lust every time I want agreement on certain matters?"

"Depends on the matters in question."

"Only the important ones. The unimportant ones, like where we're going to live, I will leave to your discretion."

"Is that a proposal? To a woman who is basically a stranger?"

He grinned. "I thought we'd just agreed not to discuss important matters until you're mad with lust? Besides, I do believe you owe me a pinnacle."

Amusement bubbled through her. "Well, I suppose I do.

Shall we go somewhere more private?"

"This from the woman who insists on flashing her thatch to all and sundry." He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, sending a warm shiver scampering across her skin. "Besides, moonlight is the perfect accompaniment to lovemaking, especially for shifters of every breed."

"Not when we're on the main beach road and inviting arrest." And yet, the shifter side of her did a mad caper at the thought. Exhibitionism was part of her nature. She knew it, and he knew it.

He undid the cardigan's loose knot and slid it from her shoulders, looping it carelessly around the post. "What can they see?" he said, his breath a heated caress against her skin as he kissed her ear, her neck, her rapidly beating pulse point. "A man and a woman cuddling close as they watch the ocean."

She licked her lips, closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations rioting through her.

"Of course," he continued, sliding his fingers under her top. "If the woman happens to be naked, then they might have their suspicions."

Her breath caught as he teased the hard nub of a nipple.

"If the woman is going to be naked, she insists the man be naked as well."

His throaty chuckle just about made her puddle. Lord, she was so ready for him, and he'd barely even touched her. Was there ever going to be a time when they could actually enjoy a long lovemaking session?

"What makes you think he's not naked?"

Her eyes sprang open and she looked up at him. "You're not!"

Amusement touched the lips she just wanted to kiss forever. "Aren't I?"

"You have a shirt on. I can see that."

"Ah, but what about the bits you can't see?"

She felt for his leg, and met bare flesh. She swallowed, as aroused by her discovery as she would have been had he touched her. "You're wearing shorts."

He shifted, and suddenly she was touching heated flesh, feeling the desire throbbing through his shaft. Felt him grow even harder under her touch.

"Oh my," was all she could think to say.

"Oh my, indeed," he agreed. "And it's been like that since you led me toward the pinnacle in that warehouse six months ago, but wouldn't let me reach it."

"Ah," she said. "Then I guess we'd better take care of unfinished matters before we move on to more leisurely discussions."

"You're not naked yet."

"And you call yourself a well trained government man?

Don't they teach you basic stuff, like undressing women in a hurry?"

"The methods are rough and ready."

The deepening roughness in his voice made the low down pool of desire tremble with expectation. "I think the situation calls for such measures."

"Perhaps it does. Stand still."

He moved back a little, and she felt a little cooler without his heat radiating across her skin. Metal touched her skin, briefly cold, then her skirt and panties were falling to her feet.

Where the knife had come from she didn't know, and didn't care.

"Now how am I going to go back to the party when my clothes have been sliced apart?"

His arms went around her again, and he pulled her against him. He might be wearing a shirt, but it was undone, and the warm press of flesh against flesh had her hormones dancing in delight.

"I have no intention of letting you go back to the party. I have six months of loving to catch up on. You're mine for the next week."

"I have to work."

His hands slid under her top and cupped her breasts, pressing them lightly together as his thumbs circled and teased her nipples. "You're calling in sick."

"My boss won't like that."

"I don't care what your boss likes. I only care what you like." He slid one hand back down to her stomach and pressed her back against him even harder, until it felt as if their flesh would fuse and their bodies would become one. Lord, he felt so good, so hard and hot. Heat pooled where his fingertips rested, quickly burning deep inside. "Tell me what you'd like right now, Eryn."

For a moment, the exhibitionist part of her warred with the need to simply feel him inside. The risk taker won.

She turned in his arms, and raised a hand to his cheek.

"Explore me," she said softly.

"Gladly." The hunger in his eyes made her tremble deep inside. "But I'm afraid the exploration will be fast. I want you so bad it's all I can do to just stand here."

"Then perhaps the exploration should wait."

He smiled and braced his hands on either side of the railing. "I have been waiting to taste you and touch you for six long months. Reaching the peak can damn well wait until we're both ready to break."

She was about to admit she'd reached that point the minute he appeared, but his mouth claimed hers. For the longest time there was nothing but this man and this kiss and the way it made her feel and the way it felt so right.

When they finally parted, both of them were breathing so heavily the wash of the ocean was barely audible. His kisses moved down her neck, reached the top of her breast. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back and arching her spine, offering him the swollen and aching peaks of her breasts. He complied with her unspoken request, running his tongue back and forth, until her whole body was shaking with the desire to feel his mouth on her nipples again. When he took in one throbbing nub and sucked on it fiercely, pleasure exploded and she groaned.

His tongue moved on, trailing liquid heat down her stomach. Anticipation sung through every fiber. When his tongue delved into her moistness, she gasped in sheer delight. His hands touched her thighs, gently pushing. She widened her stance, allowing him greater access. Sensations flowed like liquid fire through her veins, until her whole body throbbed to the tune of that gentle yet insistent touch. The quivering quickly became a tide that threatened to overload her senses.

"Oh God, stop. Stop," she gasped. "I want… you… inside."

He didn't hear her. Or didn't care. Just kept on tasting her with his tongue. Then the sensations did overload her, and her body bucked in elemental delight as her orgasm ripped through her. She clawed at the railing, holding on tight as she shuddered and drowned in a myriad of delicious sensations.

They'd barely begun to ease when his lips caught hers again.

"This time," he whispered against her mouth, his gaze fierce as it held hers. "You will howl your pleasure to the moon."

Then he was inside, thrusting deep, filling her, liquefying her. It felt so good, so fine, that she groaned again—a thick sound he echoed. Her body tightened against him, and the barely sated flow of pleasure began to spiral upwards again.

His body plundered as his lips had plundered, and there was nothing gentle about it. The rich ache grew, spreading from that low point deep in her belly and washing quickly across the rest of her, until every inch burned and she could barely breathe.

Through it all, his gaze held hers, as if demanding she pay attention, demanding she acknowledge what lie between them. Which she had many times during the long six months that had separated them. This was little more than proof of what she'd long known.

That this was right.

They were right.

It didn't matter if they were still strangers in so many ways. They had the hours to explore each other, learn about each other. A lifetime of hours, in fact.

Marry me, Eryn. Spend your life with me. Be mine forever.

I was yours from the minute you asked me to dance, and then proceed to show me your definition of it.

His amusement bubbled through her mind, lifting her so high it felt as if they were dancing amongst the stars.

That was your fault, woman. You looked too damn hot.

That's not much of an excuse.

Who said it was an excuse?

He kissed her then, his mouth as demanding as his body.

His strokes became faster, harder, so that her whole body shuddered with it and it felt as if she would shatter into a thousand pleasured pieces.

Then we've reached an agreement? came his thought.

Only if I'm not going to have to listen to you blabber through my mind every time we make love.

In other words, shut up and concentrate?

Sounds like a plan to me. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled into his beautiful eyes. After all, you have a pinnacle you've waited six months to reach.

I'm reaching it, my love.

Then take me with you.

He did.

And all she could do was thank God she'd fallen for a man who did what he was told where it mattered most.