“I’m glad you came back,” Ric told her, lifting another forkful to her mouth.
“So am I.” She grinned. “Because you’re lookin’ sexy.”
“I’m not a whore, Dee-Ann. You can’t just come here to use and abuse me before going on your merry way. Unless, of course, you’re naked.”
“Still not bored with that yet?”
“Never.”
“Most males are scared off by my scars.”
“Even wolves?”
“There’s a difference between survival scars and ‘I kill for a living’ scars. And wolves with half a brain can tell them apart.” She took the fork from him and proceeded to feed him several pieces of cake.
“Does your father have a lot of scars?” he asked between bites.
“Not as many as mine. Daddy was not one for the close-up kill unless you really pissed him off.”
“But you enjoy more . . . direct engagement?”
“I can kill from a distance like anyone else with my training, but that don’t always feel right to me. I’d rather know when my end is coming. I’d rather look it in the eye. Tell it ‘How do ya do?’ To those who deserve it, I try and do the same thing. For those who don’t . . . they get whatever’s comin’.” She suddenly smirked a little at the expression on his face. “Am I making you nervous, Van Holtz?”
Ric shook his head. “Not really.” He took the fork from her fingers and placed it on the table. Then he gently gripped her hand and lowered it to his groin, pressing it against the bulge he had eagerly pulsating against his zipper.
Dee swallowed and admitted, “You’re a strange boy, Ulrich Van Holtz.”
“Am I making you nervous now?”
Her hand turned so she could more easily grip his groin with her fingers, the denim between them making it more erotic. “Nah. You are making things a bit more interesting, though. Fancy boy like you, gettin’ all turned on by a hard-hearted bitch like me.”
His hands slipped into her hair, fingertips massaging her scalp. He stared into her face and said, “Your heart isn’t hard, Dee-Ann. It’s strong and maybe encased in a ribcage made of granite, but it’s not hard. Far from it.”
“You think you know me so well, do ya?”
His lips were inches from hers now and all she wanted was a kiss from those sweet lips, especially with that bit of cake icing waiting to be licked off. “Every day I learn something new about you. And every day I like you more and more.”
“Yep,” she teased. “Strange.” Then she kissed him and realized that every day, she was growing to like this wolf more and more, too.
Kissing Dee-Ann was becoming addictive. And not just because she tasted like Jean-Louis’s angel food cake, but because she was addictive. And delicious. And amazing. She had a way of soothing him without even trying, her presence alone easing him . . . even when she grabbed his T-shirt and hauled him out of the chair. She was always a little rough with him—and he liked it. Because it told Ric how hungry she was for him. How much she wanted him.
It was Dee’s coldness that scared others. The way she could snap a human spine without raising her heart rate was what made her such a dangerous female. But for Ric it was the knowledge that he was seeing the warm-blooded side of his She-wolf. He knew he confused her, sometimes irritated her, sometimes made her smile, but being able to turn her on absolutely made his day.
Dee stepped away and quickly removed the holsters for her gun and knife, placing them on the kitchen counter. She pulled off her T-shirt, unhooked her bra, tossing them aside while walking backward out of the kitchen, her eyes on him. She crooked her finger at him and Ric followed her, yanking his T-shirt over his head and throwing it over his shoulder while she went to his bedroom. By the time he walked in, she had stripped herself naked, pressing her body against his. Their arms encircled each other, their mouths meeting, tongues seeking.
Ric lifted Dee up, carrying her over to the bed. He lowered her to the mattress, kissing her neck, her collarbone. Once they were on the bed, she shoved him onto his back, straddling his waist with her strong and deliciously long legs. Licking her lips, she pressed her mouth to his chest, kissing her way down his body until she reached his jeans. She unzipped them, stepping off the bed long enough to tug them down and pull them off. Then Dee’s hands were brushing up the inside of his thighs. Ric groaned when her mouth followed, her tongue easing against his flesh, fangs scraping against his muscles. By the time her mouth wrapped around his cock, Ric had dug his hands into her hair, his back arching off the bed.
So many nights he’d dreamed about this, prayed for it even, but to have Dee-Ann Smith deep-throating his cock was more than he could have hoped for. Especially when she seemed to enjoy the giving as much as the taking.
Dee heard the catch in Ric’s throat, the way his fingers tensed in her hair, the way every one of his muscles tightened under her body. His reaction made her body hot, made her slip two fingers inside her pussy, and start stroking herself in time with each suck of Ric’s cock. When he came, she came with him, her fingers buried deep inside her.
Ric lifted her head, his hands shaking. She only had a moment to give a little gasp before Ric was kissing her hard, his fingers digging deep into her scalp. She felt his desperation in that kiss, the taste of him still on her lips, in her mouth. He didn’t seem to care.
Lord, she’d never had a man react to her like this. Like he couldn’t get enough of her. It was strange and delightful and almost cruel because how could this go on? This was just for fun, wasn’t it? Just a diversion while Dee dealt with a tough job. Nothing more, nothing less. But . . . but who was she kidding?
She was stupidly falling for a Van Holtz. The enemy wolf of her Pack. Her daddy hated Van Holtzes the way Dee hated the taste of zebra. Since she could crawl he’d been warning her about staying away from them, never trusting them, and outright killing them if they got too close.
Well . . . how could the man be any closer? He’d pushed her onto the bed and had buried his face into her pussy, licking and sucking his way into her heart. Turning her inside out, making her come again.
It just wasn’t fair. How was she supposed to fight this? And, as she came all over his face, her entire body writhing on his giant bear-sized bed, she wasn’t real sure anymore she wanted to fight this.
Because, in the end, the man did make a hell of a waffle....
“Thought you were sleeping,” she complained when he bent her knees up and to the side, and took his time entering her, groaning at the heat that wrapped around him, shuddering at the muscles that squeezed him.
“I woke up,” he said into her neck. “And you didn’t look busy.”
“Such a horny wolf,” she growled, her arms reaching out for him.
“I am, but that’s your fault.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
She didn’t believe him, but she should. Because no female he’d been with had ever managed to make him wake up every few hours with an intense need to be back inside her, taking her like he was taking Dee now. It was hard to believe she didn’t see it or feel it. The intensity between them. And even when she griped with that annoyed-sounding “Again?” she still responded to his touch, to his cock, to him. She panted beneath him, sweat glistening on her body as if the air conditioning wasn’t going full blast all around them.
Dee turned her face toward him and he took her mouth, kissing her hard, enjoying every moment he was inside her.
Reaching between her legs and stroking her until Dee came again, Ric followed her over.
Afterward, as they lay there, Ric’s arms wrapped around her and holding her close, he asked, “If I asked you to a charity dance thing, you’d immediately turn me down, wouldn’t you?”
“Faster than you can say, ‘Dee-Ann . . . what are you doin’ with that gun?’ ”
They both laughed, Ric kissing the back of her neck. “What about the July Fourth weekend then? I’m purposely avoiding the yearly family event since I usually spend the aftermath ap
ologizing for something my father said or did. I’d much rather spend the time with you.”
“Can’t,” she said, rubbing his arm. “If I’m not working, I’ll be dealing with the kin. A few Pack events throughout the year usually keeps ’em off my back the rest of the time and Sissy made it clear she wanted me at this one.” She glanced at him. “But if it makes you feel better, I’d much rather spend that weekend with you, too.”
“That does make me feel better.” He kissed her cheek. “We’ll have to pick another weekend then. I want you to see the new house I bought out on the Island.”
“How much property do you have anyway?”
“Enough so that if I’m ever forced out of the Pack, I’ll have ample places to stay.”
“Your Pack do that a lot to its own?”
“The Pack as a whole . . . no. My father?” He shrugged, not really wanting to talk about him when he was having the time of his life with Dee. Although, he’d never felt safer talking about the man except with Lock.
“Don’t worry,” she teased. “If you ever need a place to stay, there’s this apartment you can share with a lovely family I know. If you don’t mind beady red eyes.”
He glared down at her. “That’s not funny, Dee-Ann,” he said while she laughed. “Vermin is never funny.”
CHAPTER 14
“Someone just got laid.”
Dee froze in her tracks, her hand on the plain front door that led into the Group office. Slowly, she turned and faced Malone and Desiree.
“She appears freshly laid to me,” Desiree said, grinning. “It’s the walk.”
“The ‘I just got laid walk.’ ” Malone nodded. “Yep. Saw that, too.”
Dee-Ann moved away from the door and over to the two females she was currently forced to work with. “Is there a reason y’all are here?” she asked.
“Avoidance,” Desiree observed. “Must be kind of serious.”
“So are we getting a name, Smith? Or is it just some poor loser wolf from whatever backwoods coughed you up?”
Dee was in Malone’s face, the two snarling at each other, but without fangs since they were on the street in the full view of God and everybody.
“Cut it out,” Desiree sighed. “We’ve got a line on a fight. And I don’t mean you two.”
Stepping back, Dee gave one last bark at Malone before focusing on Desiree. “Where and when?” she asked, already looking forward to hurting some people who deserved it. Not that Malone didn’t deserve a good beating, but Dee couldn’t really get away with it at the moment, so beating someone else would have to do . . . for now.
Ric was busy changing into his black sweats, black T-shirt, and black chef’s coat when his cousin Arden entered the employee locker room.
She smiled at the others getting changed for the dinner service and she walked up to Ric. She placed her hand on his shoulder and he came down a bit so she could whisper in his ear. “Did you know your father’s here?” she asked.
Ric briefly closed his eyes. “No. Did he ask for me?”
“No. Just went to the manager’s office and started going through the papers there. Do you want me to get Adelle?”
“Don’t.” She’d only make it worse in her attempt to protect Ric. “I’ll go see him.”
“Okay. Dell is with him.”
That made Ric snarl. Wendell. Ric’s brother. He liked to be called Dell because he hated his name—which meant that Ric called him Wendell at every given opportunity.
Ric finished changing, wrapped a black bandana around his hair since he felt the same way about chef hats as he felt about chef clogs, and headed to the general manager’s office.
His father sat at the small desk, scanning papers, his small round glasses perched on the end of his nose. At the four-drawer file cabinet stood his older brother, Wendell, searching through all the folders. What they were looking for, Ric could only guess.
“Dad,” Ric said to his father and to his brother, “Wendell.”
His brother scowled. “It’s Dell.”
Ric closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “What can I do for you two?”
His father glanced at him over his glasses. He was a singularly fussy wolf, with his receding hairline, pinched features, and too-small eyes. Blayne called those eyes beady and she was right.
Among the American Van Holtzes, there were two kinds of wolves: The fussy, smaller East Coast wolves who kept their territories safe by being extremely sneaky and devious with absolutely no regard for what the long-term effects of their actions might be; and the bigger, more direct, but much meaner West Coast wolves that kept their territories by tearing apart anything that tried to take what they believed belonged to the Pack.
Yet Ric represented neither side, taking after his mother who hailed from a small Pack located in the Colorado Rockies. He got what his father referred to as his “pretty girl” looks and “weak nature” from “that side of the bloodline.”
Ric, however, didn’t believe he had a weak nature. Having a soul didn’t make one weak and he felt his father knew this because he only pushed his son but so far. Then again, that could have a lot to do with his Uncle Van. Because Adelle had been right. Niles Van Holtz had always done his best to protect his young cousin from Alder. For every attempt his father made to break Ric down, Uncle Van was right there to build Ric right back up. It had meant a lot to him growing up and both men knew now that if push ever came to shove, Ric’s loyalty would always be with his Uncle Van. Always.
Something else his father resented Ric for, but really, what did the man expect?
“You’re paying Fortelli too much for the fish.” He raised a recent invoice and slammed it on the desk. Pulled out another invoice. “And the seal meat.”
Ric didn’t reply. He simply did that thing he did when his father got like this. He “went away.” He just thought of something else. Something more pleasant or more interesting or more anything than the old bastard muttering at him in that fussy tone about something Ric didn’t control—that’s why they had a general manager—and knew wasn’t true anyway.
Instead, he thought about Dee. Gorgeous, sexy Dee. She wouldn’t be easy to make his own. Dee-Ann Smith would be a challenge for any wolf, but for Ric especially because he was a Van Holtz. It was rumored that Smiths warned their pups away from Van Holtzes from birth and something told Ric that Dee’s father had definitely been one of those. Of course, that wouldn’t stop Ric from trying. Just because the bone he wanted was on the other side of the fence didn’t mean he would ever stop trying to get over, around, or under that fence until he got what he wanted.
A rather antiquated reference to the well-known Van Holtz determination, but still true today.
“What are you smiling at?”
Ric looked up and realized his father was standing in front of him, Wendell on his right. Not the best position for any wolf to be in.
“Nothing. Is there anything else?”
His father stepped closer, studying him from behind those small round glasses. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me about . . . son?”
Ric shook his head. “No, sir.”
Another step closer, Wendell moving in from the other side. “Really?” Another step. “Not even about what I saw washing the dishes not more than twenty minutes ago?”
Damn. So concerned over those bloody books, Ric had completely forgotten about Stein.
“I don’t see what there is to discuss.”
“Is that right?”
“I have full discretion on whom I hire and whom I don’t.”
“Have you forgotten what he did? Why he was removed from the Pack? From the family?”
Christ, his father made it sound like they’d had a tumor surgically removed before it got too big. Stein was a lot of things, but not something to be coldly and callously excised from those he knew and loved. And not only that, but talk about the pot calling out the kettle. At least Stein had his youth as an excuse to stealing from his Pack
. What was Alder’s excuse?
“I’ve forgotten nothing,” Ric replied simply.
“And?” his father pushed.
Ric shrugged. He wouldn’t elaborate. He wouldn’t argue this any further. There was no point. Besides, it was when Ric was trying to defend himself that Alder Van Holtz went in for the kill. He could do with words what many could do with knives or claws. Even Uncle Van didn’t go toe-to-toe with Alder when it came to words. In fact, the only one among them brave enough? Van’s wife, Aunt Irene. One of the many reasons Ric adored her like the moon.
“And nothing.”
By now, Alder was only a few inches from his youngest offspring. “Do you really think,” he whispered, “that your precious Uncle Van will keep running to your rescue, boy? You’re not a pup anymore.”
“No. I’m not. And that’s why I’m telling you to get the hell out of my restaurant.”
His father smiled, seeing some opening that Ric was unaware of. Mind scrambling, Ric tried to figure out what he could have missed, what he could have said that gave the bastard a way in for the kill. While he did, he prepared himself for the blow. Not a physical one. That he could handle and if it came, it would be from his brother. No. This would not be physical, but it would do much worse damage.
“Listen to me, Ulrich,” his father said, still smiling, “I—”
The door swung open, slamming into the back of Alder’s head and pushing him into Ric’s arms.
“Ric, you in here? We need to talk, supermodel.”
Dee-Ann stepped into the room, her eyes catching sight of Wendell. “Are you supposed to be in here?” she demanded.
“Are you?” Wendell shot back.
“Yeah.”
The comeback was so calm and simple that Wendell had absolutely no response. It was amazing.
“Dee-Ann?”
She looked around the door. “There you are.”
Ric helped his father back to a standing position. Not because he wanted to, but because he wanted the man out of his arms.