“Fuck,” I mutter. I’m already hard again—or still, I don’t even know anymore. My body doesn’t seem to recognize the difference.
I turn to Damon. He hasn’t moved from the doorway. His hand is still pressed against himself, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.
“You staying or leaving?”
For a long, agonizing moment, he doesn’t answer. His eyes move from Caroline to me to Silas, and I can see the war playing out behind them. The sheriff. The Alpha. The man who said he’d step back.
Then he reaches behind him and locks the door.
“Let me feed Thistle,” he says, his voice hoarse. “And then I’ll join you.”
I turn back to Caroline. My hand moves from her breast to her neck, tracing the line of her throat, feeling her quick pulse beneath my fingers. She tilts her head into my touch, her eyes closing, and I’m hit with a wave of something so intense it nearly brings me to my knees.
I’ve had dreams about this. About sharing her. About watching her fall apart for someone else while I waited for my turn. The dreams were good and dirty, illicit things I told myself were never going to happen, that I buried deep and tried to forget.
This is so much better than any dream.
I look down at Silas. His hands are still on Caroline’s hips, but one has moved, his palm sliding between her thighs, rubbing over her slick-covered pussy. The wet sounds fill the quiet room. It’s all so obscene and perfect.
“How does she feel?” I ask.
Silas meets my eyes. His are dark, almost black with need, but there’s something else there too. Something that looks a lot like wonder.
“Fucking incredible.”
Caroline opens her eyes. They find mine, and she gives me a small, satisfied smile, still a little dazed. She reaches up and cups my face in her hand, her thumb brushing across my cheekbone.
“Kiss me, please,” she whispers.
I do.
Charm of Courage:
Knot three strings; tie around wrist. Wear in storms of the heart.
Thistle follows me into the kitchen. His small body brushes against my ankles as I open the cabinets, searching for something a cat might eat. I find a can of tuna in the back and crack it open, dropping it into a shallow dish. The cat dives in immediately, his purrs vibrating through the tile floor.
I crouch next to him and watch him eat. Watch my own hands as they rest on my knees. They’re shaking. Not from the cold, not from the storm. From her.
I want her. I need her. The distinction between those two statements has dissolved somewhere between her doorstep and this kitchen floor. My cock is leaking in my boxers, a mess I can’t do anything about, and every breath I take is coated in herscent. Honey and cinnamon and slick and sex. It’s seeped into the walls, the furniture, my fucking skin.
Thistle finishes eating and sits back, licking his whiskers. He looks up at me with those yellow-green eyes, and I swear the cat is judging me.
“Yeah, buddy,” I mutter. “I know.”
The last time I was in this exact position, I had spent all night inside Caroline. The memories flood my mind, making my cock even harder.
I stand. My legs feel unsteady. I wash my hands at the sink and dry them on a dish towel. Through the doorway, I can hear them. Low voices. Movement. The wet sound of lips on skin.
I don’t give myself time to think. If I think, I’ll talk myself out of this. I’ll remember that I’m the sheriff, that I’m supposed to be protecting this town, that the Council envoy currently balls-deep in the woman I want is here to dismantle everything we’ve built.
I walk back into the living room and stop.
They’ve pulled the sofa cushions onto the floor, creating a makeshift bed in front of the fireplace. And Caroline is gloriously naked. Every inch of her is on display—the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breasts. Her skin is flushed pink from the heat, from the sex, and in the low light of the room, she looks like something out of a painting.
Griffin is on his knees in front of her. His head is tipped back, one hand fisted in his own shirt, holding it up and out of the way. His pants and boxers are shoved down his thighs, and Caroline’s mouth is wrapped around his cock. Her head bobs in a smooth motion, her lips stretched around him, her hand gripping the base.
Holy fuck. This woman is trying to kill me.
