Bite This! (A 300 Moons Book) Page 7

  Finn couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was something they were missing.

  “I’ll build a fire,” Finn offered as they wandered through the arbor and back to the deck.

  “That sounds great,” Darcy smiled.

  Luke grabbed her hand and she smiled down at him too. It was nice. The whole thing was nice.

  Finn wished fervently that they could just stay like this, hide up here forever in this little paradise.

  As Darcy and Luke went into the kitchen, Finn knelt to arrange wood in the pit. He had a cozy little fire going in no time.

  He sat before it, alone with his thoughts.

  Who would have thought that Finn Butler, Philadelphia boy, raised in a brick row home, would be sitting out here alone, watching the sparks of a fire illuminate the darkness of the woods, unafraid? Happy even.

  Luke burst out of the door, carrying a bag of marshmallows and a flashlight.

  “Sandwich first, okay, buddy?” Darcy called to him from the door. She was carrying a tray with some rustic bread and cheese as well as graham crackers and chocolate, and a pitcher of something.

  “You’re a domestic goddess, you know that, right?” Finn teased her.

  She threw her head back and laughed.

  “Yes, and you’re quite the woodsman,” she complimented him. “But seriously, nice fire.”

  “I was a boy scout,” he told her.

  “Really?”

  “No, of course not,” he winked. “But I do have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  She rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was enjoying the teasing.

  “You want to see some magic?” he asked the boy.

  Luke studied him with wide eyes.

  “Okay, I’ve got nothing in my hands,” Finn said, showing his empty hands.

  He gestured in the air with a flourish.

  “Wait a minute, what’s that? There’s something in your ear,” he told Luke.

  From behind the boy’s ear, he made a rose appear, the petals red as blood in the firelight. He’d nicked it from the overgrown garden earlier, and had been holding onto to it, waiting for the right time.

  This was the part kids always loved. After the fun they’d had, he expected Luke to howl with the same laughter that had echoed through the woods all day.

  But Luke surprised him by scooting away from Finn, and sidling into Darcy.

  “Oh. Wow. I’m sorry, man. It’s just a magic trick, nothing to be afraid of,” Finn said, offering the rose to Darcy.

  She tucked it right into her hair without comment and he noticed how good it looked against her dark tresses.

  Time for a different approach, then.

  “Hey, want to hear a story?” he asked Luke gamely, hoping to make him feel better.

  They ate bread and cheese and roasted marshmallows while Finn told Luke a few of the stories his grandfather used to tell him, leaving out the off-color bits, and using the flashlight to accent his face during the exciting parts.

  Darcy laughed and roasted marshmallows one after the other, giving the perfectly toasted ones to the boy and eating the ones she accidentally set on fire.

  At last Luke was leaning against her, drifting, a look of peace on his sticky face.

  “I’m going to tuck him in,” she whispered to Finn. “Come on, little one, let’s get some shut-eye,” she said to the child in a sing-song way.

  He allowed her to carry him inside. Finn was impressed at her strength. She was so small and curvy and the kid so long and lanky. But she picked him up like he was weightless.

  Because she was a wolf. Of course, it made sense now. So many things made sense.

  He allowed himself to get lost in the fire again.

  He knew what she was. She knew what he wasn’t. There was real trouble with the boy, trouble that might be bigger than all of them.

  This was a scene the Fantastic Finn would have left in the rear view mirror from the word go.

  So why was he still here?

  I’m here because I would risk certain death for just one more hour of playing house with Darcy Harkness.

  His heart was leading him. Dammit. Why couldn’t he have fallen for one of the assistants?

  Because this woman makes me into my best self.

  So. How far was he willing to go?

  He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to that question.

  The crackling of the dying fire provided no answers.

  He decided to call it a night instead of feeding it another log.

  But the door opened, and he turned to see Darcy returning with a smile and a bottle of Scotch.

  16

  Finn watched Darcy navigate the deck toward him, sure-footed, even in the darkness.

  “Thought maybe we could use a little of this,” she said, holding up the bottle. “I don’t know much about this stuff, but if my brother bought it, it’s probably pretty good.”

  Finn nodded and put another log on the fire.

  Darcy seated herself on the deck floor next to him. When he was finished with the fire, she handed him a small mason jar and poured a few fingers of the scotch in it. Single malt. Looked expensive.

  “May we always get what we want, but never get what we deserve,” Finn offered in toast, trying not to notice the seductive warmth emanating from her. She was sitting just inches away. He could practically touch her.

  He watched the firelight caress her neck as she threw back her head to drink.

  Christ she was beautiful.

  He downed his own glass.

  The scotch was amazing. It warmed his inside as the fire warmed his outside.

  For a while, they said nothing.

  It was something he’d always admired about Darcy. She seemed to have no need to fill the air with small talk the way his sisters and assistants always did.

  The silence grew rich with words unspoken.

  Finn longed to tell her that he was with her. That he would back her play.

  But who the hell was he? She might not even want his help.

  She’d told him her secrets, but he hadn’t told her his. And he had plenty.

  He turned to her, ready to offer her the moon.

  She was already studying him, her dark eyes so serious.

  Before he could say a word, her mouth was on his.

  She was warm in his arms and she tasted like expensive scotch and toasted marshmallows.

  He forgot what he wanted to say, forgot his own name.

  There was nothing to say - no past, no future.

  There was only the soft warmth of the woman in his arms, the sweet taste of her mouth, the scent of the woods in her hair, the pounding heat of his own need as he fought his instinct to hold her too tightly, move too quickly.

  This wasn’t just any woman. This was Darcy, his Darcy.

  She sighed and then flowed into his arms, snaking one leg over his and then sliding onto his lap. Her fingers laced in his hair, her teeth tugged his lower lip. Every part of her seemed to be in motion, possessing him. Except her hips, which were cruelly still in the storm of her movement, leaving his cock aching for friction.

  Finn was a big guy. He was used to being cautious with women until he was very sure what they wanted. The mere size of him implied force, even when none was intended.

  Slowly, so slowly, he brought his hands down on her hips as he stroked her tongue with his.

  She seemed to melt into him.

  He slid his hands backward to cup her ass. God, he had fantasized about this so many times. She was so round, so full, so warm.

  She whimpered into his mouth and he answered by thrusting his own hips against her.

  When she pressed herself against him, he saw stars with the pleasure.

  She whimpered again and he thought he would lose his mind. She needed him, needed to be taken, to be sated. He had to help her.

  But there was too much between them.

  With a growl, he flipped them over.

  She lay on her back beneath him, l
ooking up at him, her eyes luminous.

  “Darcy,” he whispered, wanting to tell her what she meant to him, wanting to promise he would never desert her.

  But she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts to his chest, and again he couldn’t speak.

  He ran his hand down her side in long slow strokes, begging himself mentally to slow down and do this properly. He stroked her lips with his own lightly, chastely.

  She stilled under his touch, as if wondering what he would do next.

  He allowed his thumb to wrap around her breast, caressing her nipple on the next long stroke.

  She sighed, and he kissed his way down to the place where her shoulder met her neck.

  Here was the hollow where tendrils of her soft hair, escaping from her bun, would stretch down to caress during long nights at the casino. This was one tender cave of her body he had always longed to explore.

  He nuzzled the fragrant warmth and then nipped gently.

  She giggled and squirmed.

  “That’s tickly,” she whispered.

  “Too bad,” he told her. “I’m staying right here, I like it here. I’ll never stop.”

  He did stop though, but it was only to move lower.

  He nuzzled her breasts through her t-shirt. Exhaling deliberately to add the sensation of heat to the teasing movements.

  She arched her back for more contact and he rewarded her with more attention.

  When he slowly pushed up the t-shirt, she didn’t try to stop him. He pushed it up over her head, reveling in the sight of her when he was finished.

  She wore a delicate bra that seemed barely able to contain her glorious breasts. He wished it weren’t so dark, he wanted to see the minutiae: the tint of her skin, the flutter of her lashes, each detail was precious to him, worthy of being savored and remembered forever.

  17

  The planks of the deck were cool beneath Darcy’s back, accentuating the heat of Finn’s body, pressed against hers.

  He was staring down at her in obvious wonder and her heart surged because his expression told her clearly that - whatever society might think of her build- what this man was looking at was precisely what he had dreamed of.

  Darcy had never been one to believe in fate. You made your world as best you could, you chose the people who belonged in it and jettisoned those who didn’t.

  But she had never felt this way in a man’s arms - helpless with need and emotion.

  She knew what that looked like. Because Finn was gazing down at her with the same expression of wonder and devotion she knew was on her own face.

  He was hers. She was his.

  He had proven himself loyal and brave and now their connection was anointed.

  As if the heavens were in agreement, the deck was suddenly flooded with soft light.

  She gasped in surprise.

  It took her a moment to realize that the tiny paper Chinese lanterns hung from the trellis had turned on of their own accord.

  “They were probably on a timer,” Finn murmured, a funny look on his face.

  Oh.

  A second later there was no time to think about lanterns as Finn lowered himself to nuzzle her breasts.

  Her nipples ached and pressed against the lacy fabric of her bra. Silently, she watched his lips graze the tops of her breasts, his five o’clock shadow lightly abrading the delicate skin.

  She arched her back, praying he would remove her bra.

  Instead, he pulled the cup down below each breast. The underwire pressed them upward, her nipples stretching toward his mouth.

  “Oh, god,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to lap at one nipple, then the other.

  Darcy felt it to her core, a pleasure so intense it was almost painful.

  She heard herself whimper.

  He responded instantly, sucking her left nipple into his mouth and giving it the heat and pressure of his tongue in a satisfying pull.

  Darcy felt her hips lift from the deck involuntarily.

  Finn groaned and suckled her other nipple viciously into his mouth, squeezing her left breast in his hand and stroking the nipple with his thumb.

  Darcy soared, waves of need carrying her like the beating of enormous wings.

  She hardly noticed when Finn slid her jeans down around her ankles.

  He continued to shower her breasts with attention, even as she felt his big warm hand stroke her stomach, and then move lower still to smooth over her thighs.

  She could feel how wet she was, her whole sex was swollen with need for him.

  He trailed kisses down her belly, then pressed her thighs apart.

  Darcy froze with anticipation.

  Finn parted her with his fingers, his face going slack with need at the sight of her.

  The simple touch made her squirm and whimper.

  Finn’s mouth formed an o, and then he lowered his face to her.

  Darcy closed her eyes, unable to watch as she felt his inquisitive tongue draw a line from her opening to her clitoris.

  Explosions of glittering pleasure threatened to overwhelm her. She begged her mind to take it in, as his tongue drew the same maddening path a second time, and then a third.

  When she lifted her hips to him helplessly, he responded with a long, lingering lick directly on her clit.

  Darcy lost track of her own sounds as Finn slowly, lovingly lapped at her most sensitive place.

  When she was frantic with need, she felt him press a long finger against her opening. Slowly, so slowly he pressed inside, moaning against her clit at the satiny wet feel of her, he massaged a place inside that made her toes curl.

  And then she was flying on the wings of a pleasure so brutal she didn’t know if she would survive it.

  “Finn, Finn, Finn,” she whispered his name brokenly, as if it were the only anchor in an ocean of pleasure that threatened to carry her away.

  18

  Finn rested his cheek on Darcy’s trembling thigh. He was blinded by emotion, though he didn’t know why. His own need still raged inside him, but it was tempered by raw feelings of protectiveness and adoration for the woman he had just pleasured.

  Oh Darcy, so strong, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable for me.

  The thought of it was both exhilarating and sobering.

  He licked his lips and the taste of her there knocked him out of his daze.

  He kissed his way up her body, the need for her pounding in his ears.

  Delicate goosebumps dotted her skin. It was colder than before, and darker, the fire must have gone out. But the air felt good against his burning skin.

  “Finn,” she sighed happily.

  But he could see her breath hang in the air between them by the twinkling light of the lanterns. Strange. It hadn’t been that cold a minute ago.

  A feral look crossed Darcy’s face.

  Quick as a thought she had slid out from under him and leapt to her feet. Half crouching, she scanned the yard. It was pitch black out there and he wondered what in the world she could be looking at.

  She froze.

  “A mountain lion,” she whispered in a low voice.

  A what?

  He heard a hiss in the darkness.

  Something stepped closer, just inside the light of the lanterns.

  It was a big cat, like something out of the Ranger Rick books his granda used to bring him. But it was black, not golden. And its movements were slightly jerky, not the sinuous gait of the big cats at the zoo.

  It moved straight toward Darcy, glitching and pausing like something out of a horror movie.

  She stood her ground, her knees slightly bent, hands fisted, chin out.

  The thing tensed up, ready to pounce.

  No. No, no, no…

  Finn swept his hands along the deck and found the flashlight Luke had brought out earlier.

  “Here kitty, kitty!” he yelled, standing and waving the light in front of the thing.

  Distracted from Darcy, it turned to him.
>
  Shit, now what?

  Beside him, Darcy kicked her jeans off her ankles and unsnapped her bra.

  “Um, I think we might need to put that on hold for a sec, love,” he ventured.

  Darcy ignored him, crouching lower.

  Suddenly, she was not a woman.

  She was a wolf.

  For an instant, the beautiful creature stood before him. Inky black fur covered her body, and gleamed in the moonlight.

  The Darcy-wolf lifted her delicate muzzle and sucked in the night air.

  Then she leapt onto the cat.

  It didn’t even make a sound as she landed on its back.

  They tumbled, and the cat managed to come up on top.

  Darcy howled and leapt into the air to dislodge it.

  The cat sunk its claws into her shoulder and bit into Darcy’s neck, hard.

  The wolf yowled in pain.

  Finn had to do something.

  19

  The pain hit Darcy’s system like ice.

  The cat was strong and fast.

  But she was stronger and faster.

  Enraged, she whipped it from her, then fell onto its still prone body.

  The cat began to wrench itself out of her grasp, so she bit down instead on its throat, clamping down hard and holding on as the life spilled from it.

  Blood filled her mouth and with it the taste and scent of the cat’s soul.

  She heard the squeak of bested field mice, felt the glory of taking a she-cat, scented the trout filled river after a rain.

  It had been so long since she last shifted. God, it felt good.

  Darcy was filled with the longing to run, to hunt, to…

  Finn.

  She looked toward the woods. The trees were inexorably calling to her with the scent of fat rabbits and sparkling fresh water.

  And she scented something else. What was that?

  Fear.

  Instinctively, the predator in her delighted in the odor. She spun to land on splayed paws facing the source of the scent. The prey.

  Luke.

  The noises must have woken him. The boy stood in the threshold of the back door, eyes wide with terror.