A SEAL in Wolf's Clothing (Heart of the Wolf #9)

A SEAL in Wolf's Clothing (Heart of the Wolf #9) Page 48

“I’ll just sell off the property. The location and land will still bring a good deal of money. Prime oceanfront property, worth a mint.”

“You? You said it was owned by a friend of a friend of a friend.”

“That’s how I had to buy it to keep the ownership hidden so we could use it as a safe house.”

“It was your home? You mean, here I made the remark about whoever the owner was must have decorated in all yellow to chase away the Oregon gloom, and all along it was your home?”

He carried out a cup of hot tea for her and tucked a straggle of hair behind her ear. “And I said the owner must be from California. To which you looked to the ceiling as if unable to believe I would say such a thing because you are from northern California. But it was my interior decorator’s idea. She’s from southern California like me and said yellow would help brighten the place.”

Her lips parted, then she frowned. “That’s why you knew where the brandy was located. And the master bedroom. It was yours.”

“Ours. Was ours.”

“Who was staying there before we arrived?”

“A Navy SEAL and his new bride—I reimbursed them sufficiently so that they were able to pay for an island adventure.”

“Your poor home.” Then she managed a smile with a gleam in her eyes. “So just how much will the land be worth if you sell off the property?”

Two days later, confident the pack would be secure without his being there, Hunter returned to Hawaii to be with Tessa while Finn and Meara settled into her house before they took off on their own honeymoon. Allan, Paul, and Anna had left for places unknown. And Bjornolf had run down the runaway teen. Seemed the runaway had wanted to start his own wolf pack—teen only—but couldn’t get any takers. Bjornolf had talked him into SEAL training when he was old enough. Bjornolf was now taking a break somewhere in the South Pacific, or so he said. But for all they knew, Bjornolf could be lurking just down the road.

Rourke was the hero of the pack, and at least three of the females had taken notice of him. They all wanted to mentor him, and he didn’t mind being mentored any longer in the least.

All that was left was a Caribbean cruise that Meara and Finn would take when Hunter and Tessa returned, only they’d extended their trip to three weeks instead of two. That left Meara and Finn exploring the coast close to home and each other.

After a brisk swim in the Pacific, Meara and Finn returned to the house for a hot shower. Meara was glad that Hunter had always watched out for her and that she hadn’t ended up with the wrong wolf before Finn showed up to steal her heart.

She hadn’t thought of showering with Finn, given the economical ones he always took, quick and over with in no time, and although she didn’t like to waste water, she enjoyed the heat and steam or a simulated rain shower for a relaxing time. Water-tile body sprays in the wall provided an adjustable massage, working wonders on taut muscles, too.

But once she headed for the glassed-in shower stall, Finn walked into the bathroom to join her. Admiringly, she slid her gaze over his sculpted nude body, his skin salty from the sea just like a SEAL’s should be.

“What happened to taking a brief shower?” she asked, hoping that he didn’t think she would want to do the same.

“Hmm,” Finn said, “I like to conserve water, and sharing a shower with you sounds like a good deal.”

She smiled and switched on the digital interface, mixing water, light, and sound into a pleasing symphony of pleasurable sensations, and then stepped into the shower. “But,” she warned him, “I don’t believe in turning off the water while I’m soaping my body.”

Finn entered the stall and pulled the door closed, then gathered her into his arms under the heat of the running water and kissed her upturned face. “I’ll be the one soaping that gorgeous body of yours. And the water stays on.”

Releasing her briefly while she shampooed her hair, he poured vanilla-scented body wash into his hands and began a careful and methodical soaping ritual. His large hands started at her throat, spreading the scented wash all around her neck, down her shoulders and breasts, pausing to lift and massage. Then he worked in tiny circles over and around her nipples while she made a mountain of soapy curls on top of her head and chuckled at the diligence he showed in making sure her breasts were thoroughly cleaned.

He smiled at her as she began to thoroughly wash him, too, her fingers massaging his neck and shoulders, lathering the soap all over him as the water continued to rain down on them, taking the soap with it.

She gave him the same attention to detail, her forefingers running over his nipples with delicate precision, making them as sensitive as hers, she was certain, from the way his erection poked her in the belly. He hugged her against his body to reach her back and soap all the way down to her buttocks. She found his rubbing against her like this more erotic than she could imagine. She tried to reach around to soap his back, but he was too tall and broad.

He laughed at her futile efforts.

Then he added more soap to his hands and shifted to her waist and down between her legs. “Hmm, Meara,” he said, kissing her cheek, sounding as though he’d found wolf heaven, a version of SEAL heaven, as the hot water forced streams into their backs or sides, depending on which way they moved.

And then he was leaning down, soaping her legs as she lathered his head. That gave him pause as she used her fingers to massage his scalp from the hairline to the back in tight little circles and then did the same thing on the sides until every inch of his scalp was stimulated, the blood flowing freely to every follicle.

When she was done, he rose and slid his hands into the mountain of soapy hair she’d created on top of her head. Then he began to give the same delicious massage to her scalp, his fingers working her into a relaxed state of bliss, only she was also hot and needy and wanted him inside of her now. She soaped her hands again, wrapped her fingers around his erection, and slid up and down, up and down, watching the way his eyes darkened to midnight, hoping he would not be able to resist taking this to the next step.

“You’re melting,” his voice rasped, and she was, under his ministrations, ready to slide down onto the shower floor, spread her legs, and beg for him to finish her off.

Then he was rinsing her hair and the rest of her body and himself until they were squeaky clean and free of soap suds. But he didn’t stop there as he slipped his fingers between her legs as if making sure she was soap-free there, too. His fingers gently assaulted her, ratchetting up the strokes over her clit until her body was shaking with need and wanting fulfillment, the desire so rampant that she’d do anything to reach the pinnacle.

Before she could demand that he hurry, she felt the uplift as the climax hit, and he knowingly smiled but didn’t wait for her to come back down. In one swift movement, he lifted her and penetrated her deeply. Her body held him tight, contractions wrapping her in a cloak of heated bliss. Then he began the steady thrusts, deeper, his mouth on hers, their tongues and bodies wet and slippery and beautiful.

“Oh, Finn,” she mouthed against his throat as another wave of orgasm drew over her.

But it wasn’t until he gave one last thrust and she felt his hot seed fill her that he finally whispered in her wet hair, “You are a Viking’s treasure.”

“Conquest, you mean,” she said, breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He kissed her cheek and set her on the shower floor. “I always knew my mate would live by the sea.”

She raised her brows. “What would you have done if I had still lived in the forests of California?”

“Moved you to a home by the sea.”

She sighed and turned off the water. “I’m so sorry about your home.”

He grabbed a towel and began drying her. “It didn’t have the amenities that this one does.”

“Since it was so luxurious, I’m surprised that you didn’t have the fancy showerheads and all.”

“I meant you,” he said, wrapping the towel around her back like a sling and pulling her to his hard body. His mouth pressed against hers until her tongue played with his, and she slipped her arms around his waist and held on tight.

“I thought you weren’t a romantic, but, Finn, you’ve got them all beat.”

He finished drying her and grabbed a towel to dry off his body while she wrapped one around her hair in a turban. “Damn right I have,” he said.

She chuckled and slipped into a strapless terry cloth dress, the smocked bodice fitting tightly over her breasts, the length of the skirt high thigh.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, smiled down at her, and cupped her breasts in his hands. “I like this.”

“Thank you. It’s meant to be a beach cover-up, but I like to wear it when I get out of the shower sometimes before going to bed. I’m going to fix some roast beef hash from the leftovers—old family recipe. Want some?”

“Yeah, but…” he said, pulling her close, “I thought maybe we could lie down for a bit first.”

“Not now. Afterward. I’m starving.” She pressed his lips with a quick kiss, but when his hands went to her hips and he locked onto her mouth with a penetrating kiss, she quickly broke free. And smiled at him. “You’ll have me barefoot and pregnant before long if we keep this up.”

“Hmm, Meara, I like that idea.” He reached for her shoulders, but she quickly dodged his hands, tossed the towel from her head into the clothes basket, slipped out of the bedroom, and headed for the door. “More after we eat.”

Smiling, she hurried down the hall to the kitchen, thinking how much her uncle’s place was really a home to her now that Finn was her mate. And wondering if he was through taking Navy showers for the rest of his life.

A knock on the back door had her nearly jumping out of her skin.

She walked to the door and opened it to see a tanned, attractive man with obsidian eyes and hair and a smile that brightened his whole expression as he looked her over from the wet tangled hair dangling over her shoulders to the short terry cloth dress she wore and her bare feet. “Well, I believe this little resort is just the place I needed to be for the first vacation I’ve had in years. You must be Meara Greymere. I’m—”