Moira Rogers - Crossroads

“Christ.” Nick rolled her eyes at him. “Get out of here before I decide to make your life hell by trying to find you a wife.”

If Nick guessed he was already on his way over when she called, she was polite enough not to mention it. He arrived at the bar three and a half minutes after hanging up and gave her a sheepish smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She shoved several plastic cards into her back pocket and grabbed her cell phone and keys from the bar. “Can you help me with something?”

“Sure. Need a ride somewhere?”

“I need to go to my place, pick up some things for Michelle and then maybe go shopping.”

He pulled the door open for her and gestured to the beat-up truck parked behind the bar. “Posh it’s not, but it’ll get us around.”

“Mackenzie took my car. She and Jackson are staying with Aaron and Michelle and…” Her words trailed off, and she turned to him. “Thank you, Derek. For what you did last night, and for helping me now. And…just everything.”

He didn’t remember moving, but in the next second he had her nestled against his chest, his arms around her. “Shh. I’m here, for anything.”

She reached up and slid her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “We need to talk too. I should explain things to you.”

“There’s time, Nick. I don’t want to be pushy and make it harder, I just need to be around.”

She flashed him a self-deprecating smile. “I can’t imagine how nuts I’d be if you were going through something like this. I promise to try and keep you in the loop, Derek.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He gave in to temptation and leaned down to kiss her, avoiding her lips at the last minute out of sheer self-preservation. He brushed his lips over her cheek and pulled away. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She gave him concise directions, and they spent the short drive to her house in silence. Nick seemed edgy, almost anxious, and he could hear her heart pounding over the rumbling of the truck’s engine.

She had her keys out by the time he pulled up to the curb. “Do you want some tea or a soda? Coffee?”

“Coffee would be good.” He parked the truck and shot her an amused look. “Kat had a fit at me this morning and kicked me out. Andrew, who also spent the night being an overprotective jackass, got to stay because he made her breakfast.”

That prompted a laugh as she reached for the door handle. “He got to stay because she wants to see him naked.”

If he never had to hear about Andrew and sex again, he’d die a happy man. “I don’t think she’s going to get that. Andrew’s got some screwed-up thing in his head about Kat not liking him if she really gets to know him.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah, well…” He grinned and followed her through the front door. “You girls make us boys sort of stupid.”

Her keys clattered on the counter as she reached for the coffee pot. “You boys turn us into idiots too.” She eyed him while she started the coffee. “I have a lot of stuff to tell you. About how I grew up. About the way things are.”

“Alec’s told me some of it.” It was hard to think about what that had been, though. The graceful curve of her neck bore a tiny bruise. A mark.

His mark.

His hands shook as he curled them around the counter and jerked his gaze away from her. His voice was strained when he spoke again. “I know the basics.”

“Then the first thing you should know is that I’m not in danger. It sounds ridiculous, since we’re having to hide my twin sister away, but it’s true. I’m the Alpha’s heir. No one is going to touch me.”

Alec had told him same thing, but it didn’t ease the tense worry. “I can hear that intellectually, but I’m not sure how to convince my instincts.”

“I don’t know if you can.” Nick leaned against the counter. “You missed breakfast?”

“Yeah. I could pick something up for us, if you want. Or cook, if you don’t mind me messing around in your kitchen.”

“God, no. Mess around all you want.” She pulled open the refrigerator and gestured inside. “I’d help, but there’s not a lot of stuff I can make without setting off the smoke detectors.”

Cooking was something he could do, though it seemed somewhat less than heroic. Unless people are hungry. He crossed the kitchen to peek in the fridge. “My mother was a chef, you know. I’m a pretty decent cook.”

“I didn’t know that.” Nick eyed him over the fridge door. “Is it rude if I make you fix me breakfast while I take a shower and pack some things for Michelle? You can absolutely tell me if it is.”

“No, it’s polite to give me something useful to do. I really need to help out, Nick.”

She grinned at him. “Then the waffle maker is on the counter. I’ll be upstairs. Yell if you need anything.”

Nick proved to have a well-stocked kitchen for someone who claimed to be unable to cook. Derek used the familiar ritual of mixing batter as a way to quiet his mind, fighting against the part of him that wanted to follow the sound of the water. Nick was upstairs, in the shower. Wet and naked…

The handle of the wooden spoon in his hand creaked dangerously, and he released it with a muffled curse. Three hours of fitful sleep and a screaming match with his cousin, and he still couldn’t keep his mind out of his pants. Nick’s scent surrounded him, embarrassingly enticing and more than a little arousing. Not even the smell of cooking waffles could erase the subtle hints of jasmine and musk he associated with Nick.

It didn’t take her long to come back downstairs. She wore a flowing black and white patterned skirt and a black tank top, and her hair hung in wet tendrils around her shoulders. “I didn’t want you to have to wait. We can pack after breakfast.”

A drop of water fell from her hair and rolled down her throat, tracing over the mark of his teeth. Blood pounded in his ears and he told himself to look away.

Begged himself to look away.

She reached past him and took two mugs from a shelf. They hit the counter with a clatter, and he noticed for the first time the slight trembling of her hands. “The waffles look—I mean, everything—” Her words cut off with a frustrated moan, and she swayed toward him. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m killing us both.” He barely recognized his own voice. The words sounded low, harsh. Barely human. “Fuck, Nick, you have too much to worry about to deal with me—”

“Shh. I think…” She pressed her face to his chest and slid her hands around his waist. “If we keep fighting it, we’ll both be useless, Derek.” She tugged his shirt free and pressed a shaking hand to his bare skin.

He had the presence of mind to yank the cord to the waffle iron out of the wall socket before he grabbed her around the waist. She was so tiny , and once he’d used one hand to knock the bowl—and the rest of the batter—into the sink, there was plenty of counter space. His mouth found hers as he dropped her onto the tile, so far beyond desperate he couldn’t help but groan.

She kissed him with almost bruising force, breaking away only to pull his shirt over his head. “I need you so much,” she whispered against his mouth. “I can’t think about anything but you touching me.”

“Christ, Nick.” He got his hands under her shirt and coaxed it up, impossibly aroused by the smooth skin of her back under his fingers.

She dragged the black cotton over her head with an impatient noise, baring her body to the waist. “Tell me.”

The things he wanted to do didn’t feel very human. His hands shook as he slid them up to cup her breasts. “You need to tell me how to slow down, because I want to drag you to the floor and make a Discovery Channel feature.”