Page 6

CHAPTER SIX

JAKE

When I finally get back to the hotel room, I hear the shower running. My muscles are quivering, and my skin still tingles from the change. I drove out to the nearest wildlife refuge and let my wolf run as far as I could, but it did little to take the edge off.

The scent of Elena’s coconut shampoo wafts from the bathroom, and my cock twitches in my shorts. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think about anything other than Lena naked in the shower.

But then the water shuts off, and she steps out of the bathroom. She’s wearing one of those tiny hotel towels, the edge tucked in between her breasts. Her golden skin is still damp from the shower, and her dark hair is drying in soft curls that stick to her neck.

Her eyes widen when she sees me, and a delicate flush paints her cheeks. She wasn’t expecting me to be here.

“Sorry, I’ll just —” I gesture at the empty bathroom behind her. “Give you some privacy. ”

“Okay,” she chokes, ducking back in to grab her toiletry bag and skirting around me.

That warm coconut-and-vanilla scent intensifies, seeping into my pores, and my cock swells at the knowledge that her pussy is bare beneath that towel.

Not helpful , I tell myself as I retreat into the bathroom and slam the door behind me.

I turn the water on as cold as it will go and strip out of my shorts. My dick is standing at attention, stiff as a board, and all I did was see her in a towel.

This weekend is not going well.

My teeth chatter as I step under the icy spray, but Elena’s delicious scent lingers. I spy the offending shampoo resting on the shelf in the shower beside a bright-pink razor.

I wonder if she shaves her pussy.

The thought pops into my head completely unprovoked, and I realize what a huge mistake I’ve made.

I should never have agreed to come here — much less offer to share a room with her. I thought I was strong, but my addiction is stronger, and this weekend is a test I do not need.

Bracing my hands against the wall of the shower, I will my erection to go away. No way am I jacking off with Elena on the other side of the wall.

I emerge with a towel wrapped around my waist to find Elena getting ready. Mercifully, she’s wearing clothes as she straightens her now-dry hair.

But fuck, that dress . It’s a shimmery little gold number that barely covers her ass. Her long toned legs taunt me as she fixes her hair, and she’s wearing a pair of matching gold heals that bring her head almost to my nose .

I don’t miss the way her eyes catch on my chest when she sees me in the mirror. But then she tears her gaze away and clears her throat loudly. “What are you doing tonight?”

Peeling off that poor excuse for a dress and licking you all over.

Seeing if you do shave that sweet little pussy.

“Not sure yet.” My voice comes out strangled, and Elena shoots me a funny look.

“I’m going to Cascade with Carmen and the girls for the bachelorette party. Won’t be back ’til late.”

I snort. “Not dressed like that , you’re not.”

Cascade is by far the shadiest nightclub in the Denver metro area. They pour the stiffest drinks and employ the laziest bouncers. It’s not uncommon for girls to get drugged and date-raped there.

Elena jerks her head around to look at me, and in that moment, she reminds me of Raf. My girl might be human, but if she were a shifter, she could command a pack.

Shit . When did I start thinking of her as my girl? Elena has never been mine, no matter how much my wolf might want to pretend otherwise.

“ Excuse me?”

I gesture at her dress, shaking my head. “That thing is a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.”

“So what? We’re going to a nightclub. You’re supposed to dress a little slutty for a nightclub.”

“Then I hope for your sake that there’s an extra seat in the limo, because I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not!” Elena cries, sounding half scandalized, half amused. “It’s a bachelorette party. That means ladies only. ”

“And Maddox told me a bunch of the guys are also going to Cascade tonight — a bunch of shifter guys.”

“I’ll be fine,” says Elena with an eye roll, turning back to the mirror and fixing her hair.

I let out a long huff of air, grab some clothes, and head back into the bathroom to change.

You asked for it, sweetheart.

Despite my earlier comment, Elena looks utterly confused when I emerge from the bathroom dressed in jeans and a nice T-shirt.

“You’re not serious ,” she says, a nervous laugh bubbling up from her throat.

“Raf asked me to stick to you like white on rice this weekend. And even if he hadn’t” — I scowl at her outfit — “I’m not letting you go to Cascade dressed like that with only Carmen and her friends for backup. I’m coming.”

By the time we pull up in front of the club, I already want to blow my brains out.

My ears are ringing from the loud “woo” sounds all women make at bachelorette parties as they toss back Jell-O shots in a limo.

Carmen is already three sheets to the wind, and I’m honestly impressed she can still walk in a straight line while wearing four-inch heels.

Elena’s the only one not drinking. According to Raf, she hasn’t had a drop of alcohol since her accident. I spent some time reading up on traumatic brain injuries while she was recouping, and apparently alcohol can make TBI symptoms worse.

I catch a few lustful glances from the other she-wolves in attendance, but they might as well be store mannequins for all the attention I pay them. I’m too busy trying not to stare at Elena as she laughs and jokes with her friends.

Unfortunately, when we get to the door, the hitch in my plan becomes apparent. The bouncer waves the tipsy bachelorettes through without hesitation but pulls back the rope and stops me with a scowl.

“I’m with them,” I grumble, angry that he’s preventing me from putting myself between Elena and every scummy guy in Denver.

“Not right now, you’re not.”

I narrow my eyes at the bouncer, contemplating bribes and threats. But the guy looks strangely familiar. He’s at least six two and three hundred pounds. His face is a bit leaner and meaner than when I last saw him, but I’d recognize him anywhere.

“ Jerry ?” I ask, squinting sideways at the guy I had homeroom with freshman year of high school.

He jerks his head back, doing a double take. “ Jake ?” A wide grin spreads across his face. “How the hell are ya?”

“Not bad,” I say, my whole body relaxing as I smile back. Jerry was always making me laugh. I haven’t seen him since high school.

“Good to see ya. Go on in,” he says, waving me through. “Have a great time.”

I nod my thanks and skirt into the club, cutting through the crowd in search of the girls.

The music is deafening — some horrible techno remix of a trending pop song — and the buzz of the bass rattles my ribs. Fake smoke swirls near the ceiling as strobe lights and laser beams flash in the dark, and dozens of different smells bombard my senses .

Cologne.

Sweat.

Laundry detergent.

Alcohol.

Bodies are crammed so close together that I can’t see an inch of floor space. My boss, Eli, would have a fit if he were here. Loud music, poor visibility, too many bodies — it’s a security nightmare.

Out of habit, I locate all my exits and scan the perimeter for anyone who looks as though they don’t belong. I’d been worried about Elena getting roofied or groped in some dark corner, but venues like this give my wolf fits — especially since Eli trained me to look for threats.

I find the bachelorettes doing tequila shots at the bar and roll my eyes. Typical Carmen. The woman is trouble with a capital T.

I can already see the vultures circling — douchey-looking guys in their early- to midtwenties. My senses tell me they’re all human, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t a threat. I see the predatory way their eyes rove over Elena — even if she doesn’t.

One man in a pink T-shirt heads straight for her. He’s either going to try to buy her a drink or ask her to dance.

Over my dead body.

Not bothering to check my shifter speed, I shoot over to her side, brushing past Pink Shirt in a blur. The guy looks to his side, clearly confused, but I’m moving too fast for him to see me.

In two seconds flat, I’m standing beside her. Elena looks startled by my sudden appearance, and I see the pulse in her neck jump .

“Wanna dance?” I ask, leaning in close so I don’t have to shout. It’s so damn loud in here I’m not sure how Carmen or the other she-wolves can stand it.

“ What ?”

“Do you — want — to dance?” I repeat, speaking loud enough for Pink Shirt to hear. I’m close enough that I can smell the sweet tang of her sweat and the grapefruit seltzer on her breath.

Elena gives me a funny look, her lips pinching as she tries to suppress a smile. “With you ?”

“ Yes , me!” This time, I do shout. Irritation pricks my insides. Why is she looking at me as though I just beamed down from another planet?

“O-kay . . .” Elena’s voice is cautious but not displeased.

My wolf preens, and I resist the urge to fist pump as I take her dainty hand and lead her onto the dance floor. Her fingers are warm as they curl around mine, and my heart gives a happy little jolt.

Men are idiots. Women risk life and limb coming to these horrible clubs where they might get drugged or assaulted because they love to dance. And yet, dudes leave them sidelined by the bar all the damn time.

My girl loves to dance more than most. Elena fucking lives for it.

The music fades into another upbeat pop song, and I twirl her around. Elena’s golden dress catches the purplish strobe light as she spins, a laugh slipping out of her.

Damn. She is so fucking gorgeous.

I know my moves won’t be up to her standards, but I’m not a bad dancer. I try to lead and give her the chance to really show what she can do. But then she starts to sway those hips, and I just can’t stop myself.

I spin her around and pull her close, her perfect ass nestling against me. I feel her sharp intake of breath, and for a moment, she goes absolutely still.

Elena’s scent overwhelms me — vanilla and coconut and something warm and sweet that’s only her. My heart feels as though it’s left my body — pounding between us as I wait to see if she’ll pull away.

She doesn’t.

Tentatively, I slide my hands down to grip her hips and start to move her with the beat. Elena’s body moves in perfect sync with mine, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.

The swell of the music overwhelms my pitiful heart, and everything else melts away. I’m drowning in a cloud of coconut heaven — drowning in her .

I’m almost a foot taller than Elena, and yet her body fits perfectly against mine. The tight curve of her ass presses harder into my thigh, and all I can think is that it would be the perfect place to nestle my cock.

My johnson twitches a little at the thought, and I try to focus on something other than the warmth of her skin or the soft whisper of her hair as it catches in my stubble.

But then Elena reaches up and hooks a hand around my neck. My skin tingles at her touch, and my pulse leaps.

Her movements become more fluid as the music picks up, and I realize she’s having fun. My chest aches, and I tug her closer, allowing my hands to move just a fraction of an inch until my thumbs find the creases of her hips.

Then another scent wafts up to greet me — the sweet tang of female arousal.

Holy. Fucking. Shit .

Elena’s not just having fun. Elena is turned on.

A soft growl rumbles up my throat as I sweep my hands over the tops of her thighs. Elena’s rhythm falters for half a second, but she doesn’t pull away or let go of my neck.

The DJ lays down a more intense beat, and I grind harder against her. Elena keeps dancing, though I’m positive I’m not imagining the shallowness of her breath or the way her body quivers.

Feeling bold, I tilt my hips so that my erection nudges between her ass cheeks, and a soft sigh slips from her throat as she rubs against me.

Hot, maddening desire pulses through me, and my mind goes entirely blank. I let my hand drift up to caress her side, roving over her stomach until it brushes the underside of her soft, supple breasts.

Elena sucks in a breath, turning her head to the side so her cheek is pressed against my chest.

I forget everything and everyone around us as I touch her through her clothes, my right hand exploring her ribs and the soft plane of her stomach as my left grips her hip.

I’m dying to let my fingers wander between her thighs to find her most sensitive spot, but we’re in the middle of the dance floor, and there are certain things I want to do to her in private.

But then the song starts to fade into something else, and I hear her name cut through the noise in a low, masculine voice.

Elena stiffens in my arms, and there’s a loud record-scratch in my mind as another man’s name tumbles from her lips.