My Sister Is A Werewolf

CHAPTER 18

Jensen managed to get them home ten minutes faster than it should have taken, and with no major traffic incidents, with the exception of a few sharply made turns. But his rather reckless driving did seem a little adolescent.

Until he shifted the truck into Park and turned to the woman next to him. Then it just seemed like a really good plan, because soon, he was going to be holding this gorgeous woman very close to him.

“Sorry about the kind of crazy driving,” he did feel the need to say.

She smiled. “I didn’t notice.”

He knew she was lying, but he appreciated her trying to make him seem less desperate.

“Did you want to come in? I have some tea or coffee.”

He nodded, finding the question a little funny. Of course he wanted to come in. And he wanted more than coffee or tea. He wanted her. Now.

Instead, he opened his door, hopped down, and came around to open the door for her. He took her hand and helped her down, fighting the urge to tug her close. Instead, he linked his fingers with her more slender ones and started across the lawn.

Neither of them spoke as they walked into the house. Elizabeth steered them toward the kitchen. She released his hand as she walked over to the counter.

“No tea,” she said after perusing her cupboards. “But I do have coffee.”

“Coffee’s great,” he said, surprised after the times they had been together that he actually felt a little nervous at the prospect of it happening again. It made no sense, except that every time he was with her, he felt like he was in a little deeper.

Hell, he knew he was in deep. He wanted that-and that scared him.

She crossed to her counter and began to prepare the hot drink, bending forward to grab filters and then to fill the carafe with water. The angle gave him a perfect view of her perfectly rounded bottom against the silky fabric of her dress.

She moved to peer into the fridge.

“I only have milk,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

His eyes immediately moved up to meet hers, and he knew his expression was one of guilt.

“I take my coffee black.”

She gave him a slight smile, then ducked back into the fridge. And this time he could have sworn she wiggled her hips a little as she searched.

He smiled. All of the Elizabeth he’d first met was not gone, which was definitely not a disappointment. Then again, nothing about Elizabeth was a disappointment. She was perfect. Although she often didn’t seem to realize that.

She straightened and took the milk carton to the counter and opened a drawer to rummage for a spoon. He didn’t wander closer, afraid that if he did, he’d have to touch her.

She turned to him, leaning against the counter. The only sound was the hiss and pop of the brewing coffee. They just looked at each other, not speaking, just wanting each other.

The coffee hissed loudly, indicating it was done. She smiled at him, the sight making his body tighten with desire. She turned back to the counter and filled two mugs. Then she strolled toward him, holding out one for him.

Their fingers brushed lightly, teasingly, as he accepted it.

“It’s a really nice night,” she said. “Would you like to go sit on the porch swing?”

Now that seemed like an innocent enough thing to do. The kind of thing that parents had allowed their dating teens to do for generations. Surely that was safe.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

She led him back to the large porch attached to the front of the house. On one end, a wooden swing cushioned with floral pillows swung slightly in the breeze.

He waited for her to sit, then settled beside her, trying to keep a little space between them. The swing creaked as they rocked in a slow, steady rhythm. Even that made him think of what he’d like to be doing with and to Elizabeth at this very moment.

He closed his eyes just briefly, trying to push the idea out of his mind. Then he took a swallow of the hot, richly bitter brew.

“This is nice,” she said, sounding far calmer than he felt.

“Yes.”

They swayed back and forth, the sound of the breeze in the trees, the low squeak of the swing. All of it should have been lulling, calming. But all Jensen could feel was the heat radiating from Elizabeth’s body. The smell of her-the rich, spicy scent. All he could think about was how much he wanted her.

But he had to stay cool.

“Jensen?”

“Mmm,” he said, then took a sip of his coffee, trying to focus on that rather than his own damned libido, which was in overdrive, and had been all night long.

“I think… I think we should… ”

He glanced at her, and she leaned forward and kissed him. It was a quick kiss, not at all like the long, slow kiss they had shared outside at the anniversary party. But somehow, it was far more telling.

“I know I told you that I was ashamed of my behavior when I first met you. And I still can’t explain it, but the truth is… I just want you far too much to do this slow thing.”

He stared at her. Holy monkey.

“Elizabeth… ”

She placed her fingers up to his lips, the gesture designed to shush him, but the touch reminded him so much of the very first time she’d touched him.

“Tonight,” she said, her finger a cool and pleasing pressure on his mouth. “Tonight you let me experience something I thought I’d lost.”

He didn’t understand. He had no idea what he’d let her experience.

“I’m… ” She shook her head. “I’m just crazy about you.”

She sighed, like saying those words had been so hard for her. And maybe they had. He could understand that. There was something between them that was confusing and overwhelming and…

He leaned in and kissed her. This time the gesture wasn’t quick, but slow and thorough and filled with everything he was feeling. He stopped long enough to take her coffee cup and place it on the floor beside his. Then his hands were back on her, caressing her. His lips found hers again.

She moaned and arced into him. Their lips played over each other’s, velvety-soft skin creating a gentle friction that ignited Jensen’s desire as sure as flint against steel.

He pulled her closer until she was halfway onto his lap. The swing squeaked under them and shimmied under the sudden movement.

He touched the bare skin of her shoulders, her smooth flesh cool from the night air.

“Are you too cold?” he murmured against her lips.

She lifted her head, her eyes wide. “Are you kidding?”

He chuckled, then kissed her again. She tugged at his tie, loosening the knotted material; then her fingers moved to the buttons, working them until her hands were stroking over his chest.

His lips moved from her lips to her throat, then to the creamy skin exposed by the vee neck of her dress.

Her hands continued to touch him as he explored the swell of her breasts with his lips and his tongue.

Quickly their exploring grew more frantic, until both of them were panting, their movements jerky and excited.

“Stand up,” he muttered roughly, the command gruffer than he intended.

She didn’t seem to notice. She simply did as he asked.

Jensen reached for the fluttering material of her skirt, lifting it so he could see her hose and the small, lacy panties underneath. His fingers moved to them, slowly rolling them down her long legs, until she was bared to his touch. He stroked her. Feeling her heat, her moisture. Then he pulled her onto him, so she straddled him.

“I’ll take my time next time,” he told her in between kissing her lips. She nodded, seeming to share the same need.

Her finger went to his belt, then his pants. Soon he was freed, and she positioned him to enter her.

But once he was deep inside her, neither of them felt the need to hurry. They rocked together, their bodies undulating, their eyes locked as they watched each other.

A slow swing into total bliss. And Jensen knew he was lost. He loved this woman.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes holding his. And for a second, he nearly said the words aloud, but then her gaze broke from his, her pale eyes wide as she stared out at the darkened lawn.

“What?” He followed her stare, his eyes finally adjusting to see what she saw.

“We have an audience.”

He nodded. “Why, yes, we do.”

They both watched as two deer moved farther onto the lawn. Munching on bits of still-green grass, watching them back.

“Maybe we should go inside,” he suggested.

“Yes,” she agreed, scrambling off his lap. “I suddenly feel like dinner theater.”

Jensen laughed. “Yes, and what I have in mind next is for your eyes only.”

She grinned in return, but her eyes returned to the deer. Jensen got the feeling the sight shook her a little, and he wondered why.

Brody paced back and forth at the edge of the woods, watching the couple as they rose, not even bothering to adjust their clothing, and disappear inside. The two deer that had wandered onto the large lawn remained stock-still, except for their ears. He growled low in his throat, his teeth gnashing, and they took off across the lawn in the opposite direction.

Those stupid animals had some sense, unlike Lizzie and her mortal, Brody thought.

He was going to kill them both. The animal in him demanded that kind of revenge for what that mortal had done to his mate.

He stopped his pacing, to stare at the house and to rest. The shot that old man had taken at him had hit almost dead-on. Even now, he knew the bullet was still lodged under his ribcage. It had come dangerously close to his heart. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that. And it still hurt like hell. That old bastard was going to die, too. Slowly.

He eased down into a position like the Sphinx, his paws out in front of him, his pose upright. This pose didn’t ease the pain much, but it was better than the pacing. And he had to give himself time to heal a little. Staying in his wolf form would help him heal. For some reason, the werewolf form healed much faster than the human.

He growled again. See, even the human form of a werewolf was weaker. And full humans were weaker still. That lowly mortal who Lizzie had mated with was going to be damned easy to kill.

He just needed to heal more before he tried. He couldn’t risk Lizzie discovering him and going into her werewolf form. Brody was the far stronger wolf, but wounded like he was, Lizzie might have a fighting chance. And he wasn’t risking it. He wanted to see that human torn to shreds. And he wanted Lizzie to see it happen. Then she would know better than to go looking for a mate elsewhere. But then he was going to kill her, too. Unless she agreed to his terms. All of them.

He ducked his head, trying to lick the place where the bullet had entered him, but he couldn’t reach it. Being able to tend it would also make it heal quicker. But for now, it appeared he’d just have to be patient.

And there was no reason not to be. The deed was already done. Nothing that happened between Lizzie and her mortal tonight would add to that.

Oh, she was going to pay for every indiscretion. But he did need her. She was his only chance to get back into the pack. As much as he hated it, he needed her.

“Hmm,” Granddad said, looking up from his crossword puzzle. “I didn’t think you’d both be showing up for brunch. I sort of thought one of you would already be here to actually help me.”

Jensen smiled at his granddad, knowing the old man was probably thrilled he hadn’t come home last night, old matchmaker that he was.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, blushed to a brilliant shade of red.

Jensen pulled her tight to his side, charmed and amazed that this woman could be the wild lover she’d been last night and then be so easily embarrassed this morning. He loved how mercurial she was. It fascinated him.

“I can help you,” she said, trying to pull out of his embrace to go to the counter already laden with the makings of a huge meal.

“Nonsense,” Granddad said adamantly. “You are the guest. Jensen can help me. I’ve taught him how to cook with the best of them.”

Elizabeth looked like she wanted to argue, but then she admitted, “It might be best if I do stay out of the way. I’m a pretty horrible cook. Which is strange, because I love to eat.”

Jensen smiled. Most women wouldn’t admit that. And he’d seen Elizabeth’s appetite-she did like food.

Her admission caught Granddad’s attention for a different reason, however. “Do you want a lesson?”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the prospect. “You would be willing to show me?”

“Sure. Nothing to cooking, really.”

“That’s not true,” Elizabeth said with a frown. “Cooking is a real talent. I try, but I’m a disaster.”

“Well, you haven’t tasted my cooking,” Granddad pointed out. “I might be, too.”

“But I have tasted Jensen’s, and if you taught him what he knows, you’ve got to be quite a chef.”

“Jensen, you got yourself a beauty and a charmer in this one.” Granddad nodded his approval, then directed Elizabeth over to the counter.

Deciding his granddad had just stolen his woman, at least for a while, he settled down at the table to read the newspaper. Which turned out to be impossible. The interaction between his grandfather and Elizabeth was far too entertaining.

“Just break it into here?” Elizabeth held an egg as if she thought it might spontaneously explode in her hand. She waved it gently in the direction of a mixing bowl.

“Yes. Right in there.”

She hesitated, then tapped the shell delicately on the rim. The egg barely cracked. She tapped it again, this time with more force and the egg cracked totally, bits of shell going into the bowl with the yolk and white.

“Oh no,” she said, sounding so endearingly disheartened that Jensen had to smile.

“Not a problem,” Granddad said, his tone kind, just like he’d been with Jensen all through his childhood.

Granddad showed her how to pick out the shells and had her break another egg and another until Elizabeth could crack an egg like a pro.

Elizabeth smiled at Jensen as if she’d conquered the world. Jensen couldn’t help but grin back. He suddenly saw her right here every morning. The image should have scared him, but it simply felt-right.

Before long, Elizabeth was serving platters of pancakes and omelets and bacon.

“This looks great. I would say you’re a natural.” Jensen snagged a piece of bacon off the plate.

“Who knew?” she said with another triumphant grin.

She waited until Granddad joined them before she sat down.

Granddad passed Elizabeth the platter of pancakes. “Go ahead-taste how good your cooking is.”

She smiled and plunged a fork into the golden cakes, scooping up two. She added them to her plate, then moved to take some of the omelet and then some of the bacon. She topped all of that off with some hash browns.

Jensen watched her add a generous amount of real maple syrup to the pancakes.

She paused as she saw him watching her. Her cheeks colored a rosy pink as she self-consciously set the syrup down.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t know how to cook, but I know how to eat.”

Jensen’s smile broadened even more. He really did find it refreshing to hear a woman say that. But rather than tell her that, he reached for the bottle of amber syrup.

“I like to eat, too.”

He doused his own pancakes with nearly as much as she’d used. Then he dug in, trying to show her that he had no problem with her eating habits.

She picked up her fork, toying briefly with the crispy edge of the pancake. Then she cut into it, scooping a small portion into her mouth. Her eyes closed with appreciation as she slowly chewed the food.

“Good, huh?” Granddad said, a slight curve to his lips as he also watched her. He looked nearly as entranced as Jensen.

She opened her eyes and nodded. “Delicious.”

“And you made them.”

“With your help,” she pointed out.

Granddad shrugged. “I just directed, you did the work.” He took a bite of the omelet. “And you did a damned fine job.”

Her smile broadened, but then she was lost to the lure of her food.

The conversation was easy and natural as they demolished the brunch, all of them doing their fair share to clean the plates.

Granddad leaned back, tossing his napkin onto the table. “I bet that is the most action this table has seen in years.”

Jensen nearly choked on a sip of coffee. Elizabeth shifted, again toying with her silverware and making no eye contact.

Granddad straightened, his far-too-observant gaze straying from Jensen to Elizabeth, then back to Jensen. He remained silent for a moment, obviously trying to decipher what had changed the comfortable atmosphere of the room. Finally he stood.

“Jensen, you haven’t showed Elizabeth around the house. Why don’t you do that, while I clean up.”

“I’ll clean up,” Jensen said. “You and Elizabeth cooked. I’ll do the dishes.”

Granddad shook his head. “Nope. I’ve got it. You two go find something fun to do.”

Jensen considered arguing further, but the set of his grandfather’s jaw told him it would be wasted breath.

He turned to Elizabeth. “Would you like to see the house?”

Elizabeth was sure that her face was still bright red from his grandfather’s table comment. She’d wanted to crawl under the table as images of what she and Jensen had done on that table flashed through her mind. She knew from Jensen’s startled look that his mind had gone in the exact same direction.

Fortunately, Jensen’s lovely grandfather had sensed the sudden tension and had given them an out.

“I’d love to see the rest of the house,” she said, managing to keep her voice even. Although she was starting to feel like, when things went well, something always happened to remind her of what she was. Of who she was. She just didn’t know how this could work.

Jensen stood and waited for her to rise as well. Then he steered her toward the kitchen door.

Elizabeth stopped and glanced at the older man. “Are you sure you don’t want some help?”

He shook his head, already rinsing bowls and placing them in the dishwasher. “I’ve got it. You two go.”

She nodded. “Thank you for the cooking lesson.”

“Thank you for getting my grandson to stop acting like a zombie.”

At that comment, Jensen caught her fingers and tugged her from the room.

She followed, but her mind was on that last comment.

“This is the living room, which I think you saw briefly the night you came over here.”

“Why were you acting like a zombie?”

Jensen laughed slightly, but the sound seemed strained to her ears. “My granddad has a strange sense of humor.”

Elizabeth hadn’t found his sense of humor odd. And the comment hadn’t been said as a joke. But it didn’t appear that she was going to get an answer from Jensen.

“This is the den.” He flipped on a light, and stepped back to let her peek inside. She got the vague impression of dark wood, books, and a marble fireplace.

“Nice,” she said, her thoughts still on why Jensen had been a zombie. What had happened to him? The idea that something had caused him to stop living, stop being the vivacious, happy person she knew, bothered her deeply.

He led her to the stairs.

“Just ignore the walls here.”

“Why?” she asked, then realized the answer. The wall, all the way up the staircase, was scattered with pictures. Mostly of Jensen. From a baby to… a picture that looked like it may have been taken fairly recently. A picture of him with his grandfather, both of them in thigh-high wading boots, holding up a large fish.

But what captured her attention were the pictures of him as a child. She stopped in front of each one, taking in the way his cocky smile was already established, even at four years old. Of course, it grew more handsome, more irresistible with each passing year.

“Look at you in this one,” she exclaimed, leaning in to study a picture of him at about nine years old, dressed in a white lab coat with a surgeon’s mask tied around his neck along with a stethoscope, and a plastic toy doctor’s bag in his hand.

“Were you already practicing to be a vet?”

Jensen stared at the picture for a moment, then offered her a lopsided smile that, while it contained his usual charm, didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

“Yes. Although I think I was already practicing my plan to get all the girls to play doctor.”

She turned to face him, cocking an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm. Want to come to my bedroom and play?” He leaned in and kissed the side of her neck, his tongue darting out to taste the sensitive skin.

She pulled in a hitched breath, desire zipping through every nerve-ending of her body.

“Jensen,” she managed to murmur. “Your granddad.”

He lifted his head, listening. “I can hear him in the kitchen.” His lips returned to her neck, then moved up to nip her earlobe.

Again another zing of need whizzed through her, and again she breathed out brokenly.

“Come on,” he said, his soft words tickling her ear. “I’ll show you my bedroom.”

She smiled. “You are bad.”

“Only with you.”

For some reason, his words gave her pause-a feeling she couldn’t quite place blotted out some of her desire. Fear, maybe, or worry. Was she making him bad? Was her past somehow affecting him? Making him not act like the person he really was?

Jensen didn’t give her much of a chance to consider that idea. He led her right to one of the doorways along the upstairs hallway. Once inside, he closed it soundly behind them and pulled her back into his arms. This time, his lips captured hers fully, the supple softness of them brushing and teasing until she lost all thoughts but opening for him and tasting him back.

“This is my room,” he finally murmured against her lips.

“It’s nice,” she said, her lips curving against him. He kissed her again.

She wasn’t even aware that Jensen was walking her backward until her thighs hit something and she sat down on his bed. She laughed up at him, feeling quite naughty herself. He grinned back, then followed her down, his lips tasting her again as his weight pinned her down.

They lay on the bed, kissing, their hands exploring each other over their clothes.

“You know,” he said, pulling back to look at her, “this bed has seen a lot less action than the kitchen table.”

“Really?” She tried not to laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, I was thinking you could rectify that for me.”

She gave him a dubious look. “Jensen, your grandfather is right downstairs.”

“Yes. But I happen to know that he’s going golfing in… ” He glanced at the digital alarm clock shaped like a football on the nightstand. “About ten minutes. So if we are just quiet… ”

He started to kiss her again, but this time she placed a hand in the center of his chest to stop him. “I don’t know.”

He smiled in that way she found utterly irresistible. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

She laughed. “I have no doubt about that.” She couldn’t help wiggling against him. God, he made her so hot. He truly was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

He tensed against her wiggle, and she expected him to kiss her again, but instead he pushed off the bed and headed to the door. He turned the lock, then strode back to where she lay sprawled on the bed.

“There. I think we’re safe.”

She didn’t know about that, and she was still rather embarrassed that Jensen’s sweet granddad was probably very aware of what they were doing up here, but then, he was also aware that she and Jensen had spent the night together. And she didn’t think the older man thought they’d just been talking then, either.

He started to crawl back onto the bed, when there was a sharp rap on the newly locked door. Both of them froze, even though they were completely clad, and not even in the process of doing something sexual.

“Jensen?” It was his grandfather.

Jensen glanced at Elizabeth, then climbed off the bed. Elizabeth sat up and straightened her clothes. Jensen smoothed down several tangled locks of her hair, then went to the door.

When he opened it, it was his granddad who looked decidedly awkward. He held out the cordless phone.

“A horse emergency,” he explained quietly.

Jensen accepted the phone. “I’ll be right back,” he told Elizabeth.

She nodded and waved for him to go.

Jensen stepped out of the room, saying hello.

Granddad gave Elizabeth a smile that still looked as if he felt a tad uncomfortable interrupting them.

“Did you want help now with the kitchen?” she asked, hoping to dispel the awkwardness of the moment.

“All done,” he assured her. “I’m actually meeting a friend for golf. Will you be all right waiting for Jensen?”

She nodded. “Absolutely. Have a good time.”

He nodded in return. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.”

“Yes.”

After he left, and she heard him climbing down the stairs, she rose from the bed. For the first time, she really looked at Jensen’s bedroom, the bedroom that he obviously had during his childhood. And from the looks of it, not much had changed. The walls were covered with pennants from sporting teams. A baseball bat and mitt sat beside his bureau, probably untouched since his high-school days.

She wandered over to the bookcase near the windows, seeing college textbooks mixed in with books he probably read in high school. Heart of Darkness, Billy Budd, Collected Works of Shakespeare. The Hardy Boys.

She smiled, imagining him lying in that bed at all of eleven or twelve reading about Joe and Frank Hardy.

She picked up one of the books, flipping the pages, the scent of old paper wafting out from the covers. She put it back.

She strolled around a bit more, then returned to the bed, lounging back against the headboard. She was tired, she realized. But that made sense. She’d gotten very little sleep last night. Both she and Jensen had been insatiable.

She smiled at the memory. He was a talented man.

She glanced at the clock, wondering if it was far too early in the day to sneak a nap. She chuckled aloud at the football clock. Then her gaze dropped, noticing a picture frame placed facedown on the nightstand.

Almost reluctantly, she reached out and picked up the picture. It was Jensen with a pretty blonde. From the look of them, it was probably taken a few years ago. There was a fullness to Jensen’s face that was gone now, hinting at his youth.

But it was the blonde that Elizabeth couldn’t stop staring at. She was very pretty with long, very pale hair. Her eyes were a guileless sky blue, her smile truly happy. Jensen had his arm around her, but something in their stance spoke of a more intimate connection than the pose showed.

Elizabeth stared at it a moment longer, then put it back the way she’d found it.

She pulled in a deep breath, trying not to think about that picture. Trying not to question why the relatively innocuous photo had shaken her.

She leaned her head back, staring blankly out at the room. Who was that girl? Had she been someone important to Jensen? Obviously, he still had the photo on his nightstand. But why was it facedown?

As she wondered, she noticed something on the top shelf of his bookcase. A book, or rather what appeared to be a photo album, pink. Very out of place with all the other books on the shelf.

Even as she told herself not to, she pushed off the bed and walked over to reach for the book.