the crook of my neck.
Straddling him, my legs trembled. “I could be. You?”
“I had a different point of view,” he answered. “A delicious point of view. But yes, I’m thinking of everything you laid bare for me.”
I had a dirty talker. My favourite.
I brought my lips to his ear. “You know, that was the wettest I’ve ever been. I was so ready for you.”
His breath hitched, and his want threatened to consume me.
It was the perfect suspense. He’d agonise over me for days.
Pushing back, I left him on the couch. His gaze scorched me from head to toe in my one-piece swimsuit and drenched sarong.
“I have to find my friends.” I walked to the door.
His arm around my waist stopped me short.
“I’ve got a different idea,” he growled.
Sascha swept a hand up my side, and I gasped a moan as his thumb brushed my nipple. He swept back down, spinning me to face him.
The Luther watched me closely as he cupped between my legs.
My breath stalled as he hooked a finger in the crotch of my swimsuit, drawing it to one side.
“My idea is… we do a repeat of that night.” He looked at me.
My body almost took matters into its own hands. His fingers were so close to something that had wanted him bad since I first shifted.
God, it wouldn’t take long.
“Tempting,” I whispered. “How about another time? Wade and Cameron will be looking for me.”
Sascha’s brows climbed. “Really?”
His surprise was a reality check. What did I say?
Oh, shit.
I’d just told him I was available for future orgasms and not just accidental ones.
“I…” I glanced away. “I don’t know.”
“And it’s me you want to do that with,” Sascha said, somehow more intent than he’d been seconds before. “Not just anyone?”
I tried to step back but stopped abruptly at a tearing sound.
We stared at the crotch of my swimsuit.
What used to be a crotch.
“Sascha,” I groaned, grabbing the two ends of my suit. “I have nothing else to wear.”
He choked. “Take my jacket.”
“It’s not funny.” I scowled up at him, “I’m just supposed to wear your jacket? And how did my suit break?”
He grinned. “You’re very creative.”
I pushed him. “It’s not funny!”
Sascha tugged me around his desk and drew a stapler out of the top drawer.
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
His honey eyes danced with mischief. “It’s a solution.”
Laughter trembled on my lips. “You’re such a... Do it.”
I propped my bare foot up on his thigh, and he stilled, staring at my torn suit—or, more likely, what the tear revealed.
“What did I do to deserve this torture?” he asked the room.
Clearing my throat, I focused everywhere but him as he held the ends of my suit together.
Click. Click. Click.
I gave up and started to laugh. Sascha’s rich chuckle was quick to follow, and by the time he’d finished, I was wiping tears from my eyes.
I walked experimentally. “Okay. Not totally comfortable, but that will hold for a bit.”
“Do you want to take the stapler with you?” His shoulders shook.
Biting my lip, I snatched the stapler. “Actually, yes.”
Swiping up my soaking pack, I marched out of his office, heart skipping a beat as his deep laughter echoed down the hallway after me.
23
“Got everything?” Wade asked.
Change of clothes, food, water—and a toothbrush after Sascha’s critter comment the other day. “Pretty sure.”
We hiked through the thickening forest to our sentry point. We’d selected the farthest position with only one camera to avoid.
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
You shouldn’t be. My wolf sniffed.
Well, I was. Mostly that we’d hurt someone—and that I’d wake with rat organs in my teeth.
The sun was quickly sinking, and I clenched my teeth against the wild urges cloying my thoughts. They wanted me to shift, to run, and to hunt.
“You’re looking pretty wolfy, Andie.” Wade glanced at me.
Reaching up, I felt the tips of my fangs peeking out from beneath my upper lip. “Oops.”
“They’re cute. Is that the biggest they get?”
We were both insulted this time. “No,” I spat. “They’re massive.”
He held up his hands. “Wrong question to ask. My bad.”
I sighed. “I’m antsy. Sorry.”
“No surprise after the crotch-stapler incident.”
Yeah, Cameron wasn’t bothered by my disappearing act, but Wade didn’t swallow the I went to buy a towel cover story—probably because he’d seen the contents of my bank account and towels cost more than zero dollars. And I didn’t come back with a towel. There was that.
“That’s not why,” I retorted.
Though the stapler incident didn’t make the tension better over the last three days, particularly with seeing Sascha each day for a quick run.