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“I don’t know,” he said, apparently caught off-guard by my sudden change of topic. He peered around the abandoned parking lot. “Where are we?”
For some reason, that struck me as funny. I started laughing. And I kept laughing, even as Caleb chucked the unconscious guys into my motel room and locked the door, then led me toward the truck. He kept an arm around my waist, as if he was afraid I was going to collapse from shock or crippling hyena laughs. Instead of shrugging off his protective grip, I held on to his arm like a lifeline.
“Come on, Rabbit,” he said, gently lifting me into the truck while I wiped at my eyes.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long night—day—whatever.” I sighed as he tucked my legs into the cab. I grabbed his arm before he could close the door. “Caleb, thanks.”
He gave me one curt nod and slammed the truck door.
We drove for the better part of two hours, my head leaning against the cool glass of the window. The strange white buzzing in my head had faded away, and I could feel my muscles unwind from the unbearable tension I’d been under for the last few days. Caleb didn’t say a word for the entire drive. He barely looked at me, keeping his eyes glued to the road, as if he wasn’t driving on highways he’d wandered on routinely for the better part of five years. I closed my eyes, grateful just to be able to rest them for a few moments.
My eyes snapped open as Caleb turned into a motel parking lot. The Burly Bear Inn was no Ritz-Carlton, but it was certainly in better shape than the Right-Price. All of the rooms in the newly painted three-story building had exterior doors, at least, which couldn’t be said of my last “residence.” Caleb hopped out of the truck and walked into the motel office, presumably to get a room. He even left the keys in the ignition. It was either a sign that he trusted me enough to leave me unsupervised in his truck or a test to see if I would run off again.
I bunched my hands into fists to avoid the temptation. Because this was not a conversation I wanted to have with Caleb. It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have with anyone. The only person I’d ever discussed my marital “difficulties” with was Red-burn, and that was over the phone. Talking about it face-to-face with Caleb would be considerably more painful.
Caleb emerged from the office after a few minutes, shoving a plastic key fob into his pocket. He opened my door, grabbed his duffel, and hooked my bag around his arm, nodding toward the first floor of rooms. I followed him, wondering where I would even start with my sad, sordid history.
Caleb unlocked the door, and I stepped inside the room, fidgeting and twisting my hands. He dropped the bags, his relentless stare pinning me to my spot on the questionable motel carpet. I took a deep breath. “Caleb, I—mrpgh.”
Before I could make another sound, Caleb was across the room and kissing the absolute hell out of me. His arms snaked under my own and lifted me off the ground, the sheer force of the impact throwing my legs around his waist. My mouth dropped open in surprise, and his tongue slipped between my lips.
Breathing. Breathing would be good. But I couldn’t seem to draw air. His mouth was everywhere, nibbling my lips, trailing along my jaw, nipping at my throat, stealing all of my oxygen and rational thought. There were no muffled voices from the other rooms. There was no questionable carpet. Only warm lips, clashing teeth, and strong fingers digging into my hips.
I was so focused on the hot, insistent pressure against my mouth that I didn’t notice that somewhere between the door and the bed, my shirt came off. I yanked at his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders as he stumbled back and landed against the mattress with a squeak. Our descent had just enough bounce to send me tumbling toward the edge of the bed, but Caleb caught me and rolled me back over him.
I barely resisted the urge to laugh into his bare chest, biting down gently on his Adam’s apple. He moaned softly, threading his fingers through my short hair and pulling me closer. His hands stroked and petted, slowly peeling away my jeans and bra. My pulse jumped every time his hands brushed my breasts, and my hips jerked.
I lost track of time, getting acquainted with the body that, well, let’s face it, I had been ogling for weeks. His skin was so smooth. I couldn’t resist reciting the muscle-group names as I traced my fingertips along his arms, down his stomach and thighs. Deltoid, pectoralis major, external oblique, quadriceps femoris—all connected and fairly shaking as I ran my hands over them.
He flipped me onto my back, growling low as he worried my collarbone with his teeth. Lips open and wet, he ran his mouth in one smooth line from my breasts to my belly button, pressing one last kiss to the little bow on the waistline of my panties. I giggled, until he nudged the panties aside and plunged two fingers inside me. Then I gasped, grinding my hips against the palm of his hand. I came with embarrassing speed, but it had been a very long time since someone had touched me. I threw my head back, panting as I felt that first spasm of my climax. I rode it out, wave after wave, until I was sweaty and still beneath him.
I heard the crinkle of foil as he settled between my thighs, peppering my breasts with kisses as he aligned our bodies. I hissed as parts of me long left ignored stretched and flexed around him. He stopped, hovering over me, watching me.
I felt overwhelmed by his size, the searing heat of his skin. I’d never felt so small, so breakable, in a positive way. As his hands ghosted over my skin, I knew that I could trust him to be careful with me.
“Move,” I begged him. “Please move.”
He obliged, thrusting his hips and driving me back into the mattress. I felt his teeth, worrying at the same spot on my neck he’d attempted to bite before. Was this it? Was he going to claim me? He nuzzled my throat, scraping his sharp teeth over my skin. Just when I felt them digging in, I tensed, wincing away from the pain.
The silence of the room, punctuated only by the sound of our breathing, rang in my ears as he balanced his forehead against mine. He stroked a hand down my cheek and kissed me, long and hard. He grinned down at me and clutched at my ass, rolling against me until he hit a spot inside me that had me shuddering. Heat seared from my navel to my thighs, rippling up my body. The fluttering waves of release made me scream so loudly that our neighbors banged on the wall and told us in very colorful language that they did not appreciate my enthusiasm. Or volume. Or Caleb’s long howl when he followed me over the edge.
Caleb rolled onto his back, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me close. I clapped my hands over my mouth and muffled a giggle, because I figured laughing at our neighbors’ protests would not improve their mood. Caleb did laugh, pressing his face against the crown of my head. He looked indecently pleased with himself. “Been a while, huh?”
“Four years, two months, two weeks, and three days. Not counting the sex I’ve been having with myself, which was actually better than the two-party . . . never mind. So why weren’t we doing this weeks ago?”
“Oh, trust me, if I’d had my way, we would have christened every motel between here and Canada,” he told me. “But you were so jumpy before. You let me touch you, but you tensed up so much I was afraid that you would run off if I tried to get closer.” He nipped at my earlobe. I turned my head, admiring the way the moonlight played on his features, making him look like the sullen canine he was. “Please don’t run from me again,” he whispered into my hair, winding his legs with mine. “When I woke up and you were gone, Rabbit, I can’t tell you how that made me feel. I didn’t know where you’d gone. I didn’t know if you were OK, if I was ever going to see you again. I almost lost it.”
His whole frame tensed up just talking about it. His eyes bled gold into dark brown and glowed against the dark backdrop of the room.
I wondered if almost losing it meant he’d wolfed out and destroyed our motel room. What was the cleaning fee for something like that? Did he have a credit card devoted specifically to tacky-motel-room damage? I trailed my fingers along his cheek, stroking it in what I hoped was a soothing, non-werewolf-freak-out-inducing manner.
“Look, Caleb, I know you’re upset with me.”
“That would be a massive understatement, yeah.”
“But can we skip talking about it for right now?” He opened his mouth to protest, so I added, “You have every right to be pissed, especially with the whole lampshade thing, and we have a lot of things we need to talk about. And we can yell and scream as much as you want later. But for right now, for the next few hours, can we just not?”
He bit his lip and then bit mine. “There will be talking,” he told me sternly. “And possibly some yelling, but definitely a lot of talking, because there are things we need to talk about. Because you scared me. I’m angry. But I’m not going to do anything to make you run away again, because I missed you. Also because your running away again would just start the whole losing-it, pissed-off, scared cycle all over again.”
