Watcher: Reckless Desires (Wolf Shifter Romance) (Alpha Protectors Book 5) Read online

  I had to give her ten points for trying to front it out. “Next time you want to play peeping Tom, let me know and I’ll put on a real show.” Arching an eyebrow at the flush creeping up her neck, I chuckled, the words coming fast and thick without a hell’s chance of stopping them. “Though you might want to be sitting down for full enjoyment, rather than balancing on a window ledge. Less chance of falling off when you slip your hand inside your jeans to play with your pussy.”

  Her mouth flapped like a bird trying to take flight, her eyes round and shocked.

  I shouldn’t have said it, the Greg she knew—thought she knew—didn’t have a dirty mouth. He was quiet and easygoing, the IT geek of the team. The man the world knew, including my teammates.

  She still hadn’t spoken. Shit. “Easy, there. I’m not going to jump you, or anything. I was just messing.” Flashing her an easy grin, I winked. “You hungry? I can make you a sandwich.” Heading off toward the kitchen at an easy lope, I waited for her to follow. But she stood, frozen in place.

  “You still want to stay?” I asked in an even voice.

  She glanced at the door, then back at me, her eyes flitting around the room and resting on nothing.

  Unease tugged at the edges of my mind at the sight of her so unsettled. Usually teasing and full of fun, Scarlett lived life with the view that she was only getting one chance. She didn’t do regrets, not from what I’d seen. And she certainly didn’t do fear. Hell, she’d been willing to cut the man who’d threatened her sister.

  She was staying. Whether she liked it or not. And once I had a name, whoever it was that had put this look in her eyes was a dead man. I’d find him, and I’d end him.

  I owed her that much at least.

  Chapter Three

  Scarlett

  I was still reeling from the images he’d conjured in that deep, sexy voice of his. Images of him reclining in bed, his hand sliding down his stomach to wrap around his thick shaft. Then moving in firm, hard strokes until he’s bucking into his own fist, his back arching and stomach clenching.

  Those dirty words that had poured out of his mouth. He knew what I was thinking, what I would do if I were to watch him … perform. He read me like a picture book—no words needed.

  Heat burned my cheeks, my throat working as I tried to swallow. Who is this Greg?

  “You are staying, right?” It wasn’t really a question this time.

  Alone. With Greg. My head nodded of its own accord. “Sure. Sounds good.” Inane mumbling. Great. But what was I supposed to say? He was my true mate and so far, he hadn’t jumped my bones. Or declared his love. Just whispered dirty nothings in my ear that had my panties wet and heart pounding. “I—I’ll be out of your hair in a few days. A week at the most.”

  “Sure. Sounds good.” His echo of my earlier words are lightly mocking, but he was back to normal. Good old Greg, with the easy smile and friendly eyes. Not too friendly, though. Just enough to put you at ease, but not to draw you closer. Something I’d not noticed before.

  “Sandwich?” He motioned to the kitchen, his T-shirt straining across his broad chest. Well worn and clinging to all the right places, it was another one of his obscure band T-shirts, this one faded to a dark gray and frayed around the edges. At least this part of him was the same.

  My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. “No, I think I’ll hit the sack. Which room can I take?”

  “Your old room is made up.”

  “Perfect.” Grabbing my case, I made my way over to the stairs, ignoring the prickling heat of his eyes on the back of my neck. “See you in the morning,” I called over my shoulder, sneaking a glance at him.

  He stood exactly where I’d left him, his hand shoved into his pocket, and his shoulder knocking against the wall in a slouch. His pale blue eyes assessed me, searching for any sign of weakness. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured, pushing away from the wall and disappearing into the kitchen.

  The door swung shut behind him and I could breathe again. Refusing to slump on the stairs in a puddle, I carried on up to my room, dropped my case in the corner, and collapsed onto the bed with a big sigh. The room held happy memories of not so long ago, when life had been a lot less complicated and home had been a happy thought. Now I had neither of those things.

  I waited for tears, but none came. I was dry. Numb. But I had a roof over my head and a soft bed to sleep in. That was good enough. Dragging myself off the bed, I padded into the bathroom and flicked on the taps. Water chugged into the large tub, steam rising and clinging to my skin. Dumping a buttload of bubble bath into the rising water, I stripped out of my clothes and let them drop to the floor in a heap. Sweeping stray strands of hair up and wrapping them around my ponytail, I rubbed a hand over my arm, waiting for the bath to fill.

  My mind blessedly blank, I popped a hip on the side of the tub, swirling the bubbly surface with a finger. He must know, or at least suspect.… The thought crept in before I had chance to squash it. So what if he did? He obviously wasn’t going to act on it.

  Dipping a toe in the water, a moan of delight escaped as I submerged myself up to my neck, resting my head on the rim and closing my eyes. Bliss. Pure, utter bliss.

  Bubbles snapped and popped in the humid air, water gurgling as it sloshed against the overfill. And there he was again, painted onto my eyelids in vivid, glorious detail. Chiseled to perfection, not a spare ounce of flesh on him. Skin tanned a light golden brown, ink curling around his back and onto his ribcage, caressing the finest six-pack I’d ever laid eyes on.

  An alpha wolf in geek’s clothing. Hiding in plain sight.

  He must know, right? I searched the events of earlier for a clue, for any sign that he’d recognized me as his mate. Nothing. Oh, apart from the huge sign that he’d definitely appreciated the up close and personal touch. My nose screwed up as I blew my bangs off my sticky forehead. Maybe I was wrong. What did I know? I liked men. Appreciated them, sure. Flirting? Hell, yeah. A girl’s got to have fun somehow. But I wasn’t exactly the most experienced she-wolf on the block. And definitely not with love.

  But it wasn’t love in his eyes when he’d stared at me. Heat gathered in my belly, coiling and squeezing tight as I focused on his pale blue eyes, on the flash of silver as his wolf had come calling. The hint of dominance as he’d held my wrists up high, pinning me in place as he’d looked into my soul.

  It had felt that way; like he’d peered inside to my wolf. Looked her straight in the eye and commanded her to submit.

  And she’d done it. She’d laid down, belly in the air, a big come hither smile on her traitorous face. One second from begging, that’s how close it had been. And I never begged, never cowed or submitted to a male wolf. Never. But she had. I had. And, crap on toast, I wanted to do it again!

  Heat exploded at the thought, creeping up my chest until my nipples were tight, aching little buds. Moisture pooled between my thighs as I imagined him moving over me, pushing my legs wide and pressing inside me. My hand drifted down my stomach and between my legs, pressing and swirling as I imagined he would.

  My eyes flashed open, my gaze narrowed on the small camera mounted at the far side of the bedroom, just visible if I craned my head to the left. Is he up there, in his big, fancy control room full of gadgets? Is he watching? Is he wanting me as much as I want him?

  The red light on the camera blinked steady and slow, signaling a live feed.

  New images crowded into my mind, this time of him sitting behind his wide desk, jeans pulled down, hand wrapped around his cock and eyes glued to the screen.

  My finger sped up, my vision blurring as want and need collided inside of me. A desperation verging on pain, an ache that was not only him, but much more. A gasp in the silence. Faster. As fast as I could. A throaty moan. Must run from it. From reality.

  Teetering on the edge, my breath ragged and my eyes squeezed shut, I reached. And reached. And reached. Come on! But I couldn’t. It was too far. Pale blue eyes mocked me with promises that he wouldn’t have fai
led.

  “Screw you,” I muttered, giving up and getting out of the tub. Giving him the mental finger, I wrapped a fluffy white towel around me and made my way back into the bedroom, the blinking red light mocking me.

  Chapter Four

  Greg

  I stared at the dark screen. Number 19. Scarlett’s room. It was blank because I’d turned it off. Privacy. Gotcha. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. But I hadn’t turned off the sound, no way. I couldn’t. I needed to hear that she was okay. And a perverse need to know if—

  A soft moan vibrated through the speakers.

  Oh … fuck. She was trying to kill me.

  Then a breathy gasp.

  Shit. My fingers tightened around the chair arm, digging into the soft plastic until I hit metal.

  The crackle of water sloshing rhythmically. Very rhythmically.

  My hand wavered in the air. When the fuck had it left the chair arm? It couldn’t decide whether to palm my cock or flick the button to light up the screen.

  Neither.

  I planted it back down, curling my fingers back into the previous dents. Sweat beaded on my brow as another throaty moan bounced around the room, the soft sigh sinking into my skin and heating my blood.

  My hips jerked, demanding attention. Another moan, this time bit off. Blunt, white teeth dragging against her lip, her fingers sliding through her slick folds, her breath coming out in short pants as she fucks herself, driving—

  Shit. My hand was sliding into my jeans and wrapping around my cock. My hips thrust. “Fuck…” My throaty groan matched hers, our voices twining together. This is all kinds of wrong. But she must know I might be listening. Watching… There goes the finger again, hovering over the switch.

  No. I can’t do it. My legs twitch, my muscles cramping as I lock them down. I refused to give into the urge to stalk down there and finish what she’d started. To tie her up and punish her with my tongue for starting without me. Would she like it?

  I wasn’t going to find out. I was not going there.

  Another moan, this one frantic.

  Fuck. My thumb slid over the blunt head of my cock as I thrust into my palm.

  Then silence. No big finish, no climax. Nothing. A splash of water, a soft whisper of sound through the speaker, too soft and muffled to catch. Then more silence.

  Is she okay? Lust forgotten, I leaned forward in my chair, straining for any sound. My eyes flicked to the screens monitoring the rest of the house. All clear. The alarm system was silent. No intruder.

  The chair arm bent under my hand, metal wrenching in a protesting screech. Is she okay? A low growl trickled out of my mouth, tension creeping up my spine.

  A flick of a switch and the blank screen glowed with life.

  She’s there, in the bed, a lump under the comforter with just the top of her head poking out. She’s okay.

  Breath escaped on a whoosh as I sagged back in the chair, unspent adrenaline flying through my veins and buzzing in my head. She’s okay. I don’t question why it is so important, I don’t have to. But I can ignore it. I go to flick off the screen, to give her privacy, when her huddled form shudders.

  But not the good kind of shudder. This was the kind a person makes when their heart is being torn in two. Or their world is ending. Or they’re scared to death.

  My feet hit the stairs before I had a chance to second guess what I was doing. Nothing mattered except her. The second she walked through that door seeking refuge, she’d become mine to protect. To watch over.

  And I don’t do failure.

  Chapter Five

  Scarlett

  The door flew open and strong arms closed around me. I’m wailing like a banshee and suddenly he’s here. Holding me. Making soft shushing sounds and rubbing my back in smooth sweeping glides.

  But it’s not what I want. Or what I need.

  I stretched up, sliding my arms around his neck. My mouth searched for his, drunk on tears and sorrow and frustration. Our lips collided, not gentle or soft, a clash of teeth and tongue, with the dark taste of desperation. My moan was swallowed whole as I pressed against him, my fingers threading up into his hair and twisting tight.

  With a low growl, his tongue speared deep into my mouth, torturously teasing me, and consuming me whole. His fingers dug into my waist, through the towel, dragging me closer, while his other hand reached up to my wrists and shackled them together.

  This is what I need.… To not think. To not remember. To only exist in the moment.

  His hand moved over me, smoothing and squeezing as he learned the contours of my body, a growl of approval rumbling in his chest.

  My towel loosened and I willed it to fall, the stubborn material hanging in there against all odds. Too many layers between us. Pulling back, I eyed his chest. “I hope you don’t love this T-shirt too much,” I muttered, twisting my wrists away from his grasp and giving it a sharp tug. Fabric ripped with a satisfying sound, the edges peeling away to reveal warm, hard skin. My hands didn’t wait, smoothing and stroking his chest, the low rumble in my throat signaling my pleasure.

  He flinched, his lips thinning.

  He doesn’t want forever … a voice whispered inside my head, bringing with it everything I was trying desperately to escape. He doesn’t even want right now. Not really. My hands slowed, fingers curling against his skin. I sucked in a deep breath, his scent almost my destruction as it wound its way through my body, sinking into my soul. He wasn’t willing to give me what I really needed.

  A home.

  I couldn’t breath, the magnitude of what I’d given up crushing me.

  But he could give me distraction. And I needed that more than anything else right now.

  Giving his shoulders a firm yank, I dragged him down on top of me, cradling him between my hips and digging my nails into his back. Arching up against him, I froze, my heart going pity-pat in my chest as he captured my gaze and held it.

  Knowledge stared back at me from eyes paler than a cloudless sky, heavy and potent with understanding. He knew what I was doing, had tasted the desperation on my lips, read it in the clasp of my fingers. He understood what I was asking for.

  My fingers flexed, unconsciously begging him not to go. I wouldn’t ask him for more. I knew he wasn’t offering. But I wanted now.

  Tension radiated from him, from the slight twitch in his cheek, to the line of his back as he held himself above me. Sweat beaded on his brow, his dark hair hanging down into his eyes as a tremor worked its way through his body. He sucked in a deep breath, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing until they were slits glinting with the silver of his wolf. “Say it.” His demand was a low growl, the sound rumbling up through his chest directly from his wolf.

  The words stuck in my throat, though I knew exactly what he wanted; I could tell by the look in his eye. He wanted me to beg.

  He didn’t move a muscle, his weight poised above me. Tantalizingly close.

  “Greg…”

  Lowering his hips, he brushed against me. “If you want release, then say it.”

  The sheer demand in his voice had a thrill coursing down my spine—liquid and hot and ending in a shiver that left me gasping. This man knew exactly what he was doing to me, the muscles in his jaw clenching as moisture pooled between my thighs. He was hot and domineering and deliciously sexy.

  And I wanted what he was offering. So bad.

  “Please…” I whispered.

  His weight came down on top of me, pressing me into the bed, his thick shaft rubbing over my aching core as I arched beneath him. Our lips sealed together, his hands guiding my arms above my head and pinning them. I was immediately catapulted back to the edge, teetering on a climax, with every strain of his hips, every slide of his heavy, denim clad cock between my legs.

  My skin warmed in the hand that pinned me, my fingers curling into my palms and digging in. The air was hot—burning my lungs. His tongue possessive, his mouth masterful.

  I gasped, colors spiraling behind my eyelids
.

  “Let go.” His low growl was a roar in my ears, his breath hot and sweet on my cheek as he rocked against me, harder. Faster.

  I forced my eyes open to look at him. I wanted to see need on his face, to know this meant something to him.

  His wolf looked back at me. Strain bracketed his mouth and hollowed his cheeks.

  He rocked against me again, his hand tightening on my wrists, nails digging into my hip as he held me firm. Muscles rippled in his chest, his shoulders bunching and straining as he held himself up and away from me.

  Let go … I wanted to cry the words, but my climax stole my breath, thundering up through me without warning and shattering my world, pulling me apart in a rush of heat spilling up and out, leaving me shuddering beneath him.

  He didn’t move. I wasn’t sure he was even breathing.

  Eyelids fluttering open, his face swam back into view. As if carved from granite, there was no hint of emotion, no sign of softness.

  No hint of turmoil bubbling beneath the surface. He was blank.

  He knew. At that moment I was certain of it. A knowing that sank into my bones and chilled my heart.

  He knew and he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Cold flooded my body, chasing away any lingering heat. My escape from reality was getting a hell of a lot more real. We’d just dry humped like horny teenagers and he was giving me that look? And, yeah, he was horny. I could feel the evidence throbbing between my thighs, straining for release.

  I cleared my throat, my voice scratchy and hoarse. His touch burned, as though branding me. “Greg—”

  “Get some sleep.” Releasing me, he rolled off the bed in a move faster than human eyes would have been able to track, his arms loose by his sides and his chin hitting his chest. Eyes closed, he dragged in a deep breath, fingers curled into fists as he shuddered.