Dodge ran his hands through his hair, until the dark mass stood on end and made him look more like a wildman. He stood next to the bed, still buck naked, and winced. “Forgot the condom. Babe, I’m sorry.”
My heart stuttered, since it hadn’t even occurred to me when I pulled him on top of me, but I forced a smile. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill.”
Well, Ihadbeen on the pill. I didn’t think it was particularly effective when you forgot to take it every couple of days. But relief washed over Dodge so strongly I didn’t have the heart to tell him the specifics.
But I held out my hands so he could help me sit all the way up. “But that means you owe me a ride to the shower.”
Dodge scooped me up without hesitation, his hands wandering freely, and he whispered in my ear, “I could definitely use a ride in the shower.”
“There isn’t time for that,” I said, laughing. The man was out of control.
“I’ll be quick,” he murmured, and his fingers teased my ass and the backs of my thighs. “Besides, we still gotta get clean.”
By the time we stood under the stream of hot water and steam made the air thick and close around us, I lost whatever resolve I might have had to resist his murmured recitation of all the ways I turned him on. It also helped that I knew, without a doubt, he’d stop short if I told him to, and I didn’t mind being convinced. The odds of getting pregnant from just the two times without a condom were tiny anyway.
So we stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, and soaped each other up a couple of times, though we kept getting distracted by rubbing loofahs all over every inch of our already-sensitive bodies.
Dodge toweled me off and carried me out of the bathroom, apparently so I wouldn’t slip, and set me down in the middle of the room as he searched for clean clothes for me to wear. I definitely should have packed a bag before we left my apartment, though that would have been difficult to explain if Ms. Bridger’s guys saw it.
I finally helped myself to a pair of his clean briefs, pulling them on before putting on my jeans. From the light in his eyes, Dodge found itverydistracting. Putting on my bra also took a great deal of his concentration, despite that I was the one doing all the fiddling. He gave me a well-worn shirt, soft from many washings, and stared hungrily as I pulled it on. The thing went practically to my thighs, but he watched me so intensely I figured there was a specific reason he wanted me to wear it. I also borrowed a pair of socks and felt like a complete ragamuffin when we finally opened the door and headed for the stairs.
A wolf-whistle, clapping, and general hooting greeted us from the living room. I wanted to flee back up the stairs as my whole face ignited. Dodge scowled and held me tight to his side, glaring daggers at the half dozen people who lounged about in the front of the house. Dodge muttered, “You can all fuck off,” as he half-carried me past them and into the kitchen.
He pulled stuff out of the fridge for breakfast, shaking his head, and rattled pans around to drown out the occasional giggle from the other room.
I wanted to hide under the table, since I could just imagine how loud we’d been all night long. “Oh my God.”
“It’s fine,” Dodge said, and paused in his breakfast-making to squeeze me close and kiss the top of my head. “They’re assholes but it stays inside the pack. They don’t get to tease me often.”
Stayed inside the pack? “I’m not used to living in such close quarters as an adult. Does every – pack live in a house like this?”
He shook his head, scrambling eggs, ham, and cheese at the stove. “We have a larger building with apartments and more room, a few miles from here. This is Deirdre’s house; Evershaw moved in with her when they hooked up, and he brought a few of us with him for security.”
“Oh.” I looked around, trying to figure out how someone as self-possessed as Deirdre felt about having her entire house invaded by a bunch of rowdy shapeshifters. I was about to ask when something brushed against my ankles, and I jumped.
Cricket had meandered into the kitchen and leaned against my leg, purring until it vibrated into me. I needed something to do other than stare at Dodge as he made me breakfast. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me, and my eyes prickled as it grew a little harder to breathe. I ducked to pick up the cat and heaved him up, grunting with the effort of lifting his massive body. Dodge smirked as he glanced back. “He’s a work-out, right?”
“He’s a precious baby,” I said, nuzzling into the cat’s fur. Cricket purred louder and stretched out in my arms, eyeing the pile of ham that still sat on the counter.
“He’s an asshole,” Dodge said. He pointed the spatula at Cricket and shook his head. “And a terrorist. He’s just using you to get to the food.”
I rolled my eyes, enjoying the kitty snuggles, and opened my mouth to chide Dodge for being wrong. And then the cat launched out of my arms, skidded across the counter, and snatched up at least a pound of deli ham. I stared in horror as he disappeared into the living room, a sudden shout betraying he’d been spotted with his ill-gotten booty.
“Told you,” Dodge said under his breath, though he was smiling.
I shuffled over to stand behind him, and slowly leaned against his back, inhaling the scent of his detergent. “I’m going to blame that on you.”
“I figured.” He reached around and patted my butt with his free hand, then pointed at one of the cupboards. “Plates, babe.”
It felt so domestic, so normal. Like a relationship. Is that what he wanted? What he expected? Was it whatIwanted?
“Persephone?” he asked, voice quiet. His free arm snaked to once more caress my back, to hold me closer against his back. “You okay?”
“Just tired,” I said, trying to sound like I wasn’t facing a major personal crisis. I straightened and retrieved the plates, holding them as he slid some scrambled ham and eggs, toast, and hashbrowns onto them. I laughed and tried to pull my plate away before he filled it with a small mountain of food. “Oh my God, I can’t eat all that. Stop. That’s enough.”
He grumbled but grudgingly took some of the mess back onto his plate. Dodge fished utensils out of a drawer and tilted his head toward the living room. “We can eat at the table while the detective says what she needs to say. Then we can go back upstairs to nap.”
And he waggled his eyebrows at me to make it clear that napping wasn’t what he had in mind.
