N. Walters - Legacy Found

She wasn’t sure she was ready to face James when he came out. Sitting up, she grabbed the blankets and pulled them over her. Even though she was still too warm, she felt better being covered.

Closing her eyes, she easily imagined the water rolling down James’s muscular chest. Bronze skin pulled taut over hard, lean muscle. There was no doubt about it. James Riley was prime. Uttering a groan of frustration, Shelley rolled over on her side and stared at the empty bed across from her.

James was in hell. His skin ached and his wolf was demanding release. He leaned his hands against the tiled wall and let the water beat down on his head.

His balls were full and heavy and his cock was threatening to explode. Veins pulsed and throbbed up and down his shaft and liquid seeped from the bulbous red head.

He could still taste Shelley. He licked his lips and his cock jerked. Damn, she was like nothing he’d ever tasted in his life. Sweet and spicy. A mixture that seemed made for him.

Her smell mingled with his and he’d hated to take a shower, to wash it away. He frowned as he lifted his right hand from the wall and brought it to his nose. It was faint, but it was still there. Shelley.

He curled his fingers into a fist, wanting to smash it against the wall to relieve some of the tension thrumming through him. He’d only glimpsed parts of her body, but he’d seen several small scars near her waist. And there were very old scars circling her ankles, as though she’d been chained and her skin had been rubbed raw. Repeatedly.

He wanted to roar in anger. His teeth elongated and his fingernails morphed into claws. He took a deep breath, struggling for control. Werewolves were fast healers. To have such old scars, the torture would have to have been prolonged and often.

Shelley was obviously keeping secrets from him and that could be dangerous. He had to find out more about her past, how she’d ended up working at a roadside diner with hardly any clothing or money to her name.

Because sometime during the last half hour or so, he’d had to admit to himself that Shelley was his. His mate. He’d had one in his lifetime and never expected to find another. But fate worked in mysterious ways and sometimes it sucker-punched you.

He raised his head and let the water pour over his face.

He didn’t want a mate. Didn’t want to risk the heartache that came with such a connection. But he knew himself well and knew he couldn’t let Shelley go. She was a gift beyond price and it was his job to make her want to stay with him.

And that job had begun tonight.

He wasn’t done yet. If he hoped to sleep next to Shelley, he had to do something about his massive erection. Grabbing the tiny sliver of soap that passed for a bar, he rubbed it between his hands. When he’d worked up a thick lather, he tossed it back into the built-in dish and wrapped his fingers around his shaft.

The way he was feeling this wouldn’t take long.

He closed his eyes and pictured Shelley lying on the bed before him like a treat, her full breasts tipped with tight red nipples, begging to be tasted. Her legs spread wide, her pussy gleaming with her cream.

He pumped his hand up and down his cock, working it from base to tip. His balls pulled up tighter to his body. He increased the tempo as his fantasy expanded.

He might not have seen her totally naked, but his imagination could easily make up for that. Her skin gleamed as she touched her breasts, tugging at her swollen nipples with her thumbs and forefingers.

His hand worked faster.

She opened her legs wider and arched her hips in clear invitation.

James groaned and gripped his cock hard, pumping fast. He gritted his teeth to keep from yelling while he came. White fluid shot out of the tip of his shaft, coating his hand and spilling over into the tub.

His lungs were working like a bellows as he eased his hand away and grabbed the soap. Not giving himself any more time to think, he scrubbed his body, washing away all remnants of sweat and his orgasm.

When he was done, he turned off the water and stepped out onto the cool tile floor. There was only one clean towel left, but it did the job.

He picked up his jeans and tugged them on. He hated wearing them, but he didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t go back in the room naked, not without possibly making Shelley nervous, and he didn’t wear underwear.

The jeans felt heavy and confining. His only concession to comfort was leaving them unbuttoned.

He hung up the towel and left the bathroom, flicking off the light behind him. The room was quiet with only the light whoosh from the heating unit and the soft, even sound of Shelley’s breathing. She’d fallen asleep.

He crept over to the side of the bed and stood beside it, watching her. There was nothing remarkable about her features. Her chin was a little pointy and her nose turned up slightly. But to him she was the most beautiful creature in the world.

Her heart-shaped face and dark, luminous eyes, which were closed now, fascinated him. Her rosy lips begged him to taste them. And her inner strength shone like a beacon in the night.

James reached out and clicked off the light between their beds. She was a werewolf and would be able to see perfectly in the dark if she awoke. Still, he went to the window and tugged open the drapes a bit to allow some moonlight to seep in.

Satisfied, he went back to her bed and crawled in beside her. She moved slightly but didn’t wake as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into the curve of his body. She felt right there, as if she’d always been a part of him.

James closed his eyes and sighed. It was incredible to think when he’d rolled out of bed this morning he hadn’t even known she existed.

Shelley woke slowly, feeling sleepy and warm. The alarm clock hadn’t gone off so she hadn’t slept in. She still had plenty of time before she had to get up. Lying there, she enjoyed a rare moment of well-being.

She’d spent most of her life on edge, never knowing what she was going to face from Tom Macmillan each day. Just as it had for all those years in his presence, tension crept in, depriving her of her relaxed state.

It was then she felt the weight around her waist. Sleep fled when she realized the warmth she was feeling was coming from the large male body behind her. The weight she was feeling was his arm.

Memory came flooding back in a torrent. James. Yesterday she’d lost her job and fled with him. She’d bought new clothes. Well, new to her. And she’d seen Steve Macmillan, Tom’s son.

A shiver raced down her spine. Now there was a man who was even meaner than his father. And that was saying something.

“Cold?” James tugged the covers closer, tucking them around her body.

Her face flushed as another memory sprang forward. James touching her all over, his hands and fingers pleasuring her until she’d exploded in a blazing orgasm. This time when she shivered it wasn’t from cold or fear, but from desire.

“Shelley?” James turned her to face him, but not before she felt his erection pressing against her back. He was awake and aroused. And why not? It’s not like they’d had sex last night. He’d pleasured her and she’d fallen asleep before he’d finished his shower.

Her sex throbbed. She wanted James but, at the same time, was afraid. Too much of her life had been controlled by a man. She was finally tasting freedom and wasn’t about to give it up. Not for anyone. She’d die first.

His lips brushed her forehead in a gentle caress and she sighed. All her resolve, all her good intentions, flew out the window whenever he touched her.

“You okay?” He brushed a lock of hair out of her face. Dawn hadn’t quite arrived, but the room was light enough for her to make out his features. Not that she needed the light. She had exceptional vision.