Captive Mate - Eliot Grayson Page 0,16

in his neck standing out with tension. “Kill him? Kill everyone? You’re a fucking murderer, Arik, and you’re no better than Hawthorne. And speaking of which, you haven’t even started to explain what the fuck he was doing there —”

The door opened, and both of us broke off, panting, turning in unison to glare at the newcomer.

Who happened to be Nate, carrying a wooden tray piled with enough sandwiches to feed a small army — or in other words, barely enough for two hungry shifters. There were some water bottles, too. I nearly drooled.

He stared at us, his dark eyes wide. “Matthew, have you lost your shit completely? In bed? With him? And don’t get me started on how everyone in the pack is standing around the bottom of the stairs listening.”

“We’re getting to know each other,” I said coyly, wriggling my hips suggestively. “Matthew’s a lot of fun once he loosens up a little.”

Matthew’s fists clenched so hard I thought his knuckles might pop right out of his skin. “We have to stay close or I go crazy,” he said through gritted teeth. “Touching. And don’t get me started on how you and Ian ought to be keeping the eavesdroppers out of range while I’m compromised.”

Nate’s cheeks flushed, and I bit back a smile. Score one for Matthew.

And since when was I on Matthew’s side? Well, I’d be on anyone’s side if the other side had Nate on it, to be fair.

“Ian has a lot on his plate,” Nate said defensively. “Because he’s trying to be the pack leader and the second at the same time.”

“Can you put the tray on my desk?” Changing the subject. Probably smart, given that there wasn’t really a good reply to that. Definitely score one for Nate, damn him. “And then clear out the audience. Please,” he added grudgingly, as one of Nate’s eyebrows rose.

“Yeah, all right,” Nate sighed, and crossed the room to put the tray down on a messy desk set against the wall next to one of the windows. He stayed as far as possible from me, going in a semicircle rather than directly. He turned and looked at Matthew, a wistful expression on his face that I wanted to slap right off. How dare he look at Matthew like that, all affectionate and fucking stupid? “I promise we’re working on it,” he said, and left without waiting for an answer.

The door clicked shut behind him and the lock turned.

Chapter 5

You Don’t Know Me at All

My nose twitched, picking up the smell of ham, and Nate fled my mind. Ham. Actual meat. I rolled away from Matthew, nothing in my head but the need to go and eat everything in sight, and I yelped as a muscular arm wrapped around my middle and yanked me back onto the bed.

“Touching, remember?” Matthew said gruffly, his voice coming from way too close to my ear. He pressed up behind me, his chest against my back, a wall of heat and strength.

“I can get the tray,” I gasped. “I’ll bring it back. Just let me at the sandwiches before I eat you.”

He laughed, and I felt it more than heard it. “I wouldn’t say no. I’d rather do it the other way around, though.”

Oh, and that — that put images in my head. Lots of them. Vivid ones, starting with Matthew pinning my hips and sucking my cock down his throat, and rapidly moving on to me on my hands and knees with my ass in the air, and Matthew busy with his lips and tongue between my cheeks.

“Sandwiches,” I said as firmly as I could, shaking my head to try to get the picture of Matthew eating me out to go away. “One second.”

After a beat, Matthew released me, and I scrambled off the bed.

It took a little maneuvering to get settled on the bed again with me, Matthew, and the tray, but finally I was able to dig in. I didn’t care about the way his side was pressed against mine, or the fact that our hands kept brushing when we reached for the food.

And even though I was normally incredibly fastidious, I didn’t even care about the crumbs going everywhere on my shirt and the bed, or the gulping noises I was making as I stuffed sandwich after sandwich in my mouth. Every bite was paradise. I guzzled two bottles of water and ate until every scrap was gone.

I flopped back against the pillows, breathing like I’d run a marathon.