Page 37 of Alpha Bond
“You’re as freaked out as I am; admit it. She doesn’t belong here, Law.”
I’m freaked out all right, but not for the reason she’s giving. “That’s not up to you to decide, Stone. Titer says it’s cool, so it’s cool.”
“I’m not happy about it.” Her mouth sets in a line.
“How you feel is irrelevant.” I shrug. I’ve slowed to a jog, which is probably more sensible. “What’s your problem with her, anyhow?”
“I dunno. I just…” She pulls a face. “I guess I think she’s hiding something that might end up causing shit for us.”
“Why would you think that? She hasn’t stepped out of line since she got here. And I should know.”
“What, you’re defending her now?” Casey scowls.
“No, I…” I pause. “Okay, yes. I am. She’s been through hell, Stone. Cut her some slack.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“For fuck’s sake! Can you give it a rest?” I snap. “You don’t know what she went through. She deserves our protection just as much as anyone else who looks for sanctuary here.”
“And you’re going to give to her?” Casey folds her arms over her chest.
“Yes. I am.” We lock eyes. Mine are angry; I know it. And I’m surprised at how rapidly my anger escalated. Why would Casey’s issues with Sierra bother me so much?
She deflates as she exhales. “Okay. I get it. You want to be her knight in shining armor.”
“Bullshit,” I mutter, turning back to the screen and pushing the speed up again.
“I’m just looking out for you, Jagger. We’ve been a good team. You’re like the brother I never had.”
I throw her a look, softening. Because we both know she had a brother. Once.
“I’m sorry.” I really mean it. I can’t understand why my protective instincts surge so wildly when it comes to Sierra. Maybe it’s because she’s so damned vulnerable. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Casey smiles. “That’s all I’m asking. Now get running. You’re getting soft, old man.”
I roll my eyes, slipping back into my groove as I speed to a sprint again. I’d told Sierra I’d be an hour, and that was forty minutes ago.
By the time I climb off the treadmill, my legs are shaking, and I’ve left a pool of sweat on the mat. But it finally feels like I can think clearly again. And my wolf has settled. Swiping my face dry with the now-damp towel, I head back to the changing room, grab my bag, and head for the exit. I’ll catch a shower back home. Casey’s still in the weight section, pushing herself to the limits like the motherfucker she is, so I leave with a brief wave and head down the hall.
When I reach the door to my apartment, I stop. It’s silent inside. She’s asleep. I don’t know how I know it; I just do. Though it wouldn’t take a psychic to figure it out. She tends to move from one nap to the next, interspersed by meals, which she still wolfs down like a starvation survivor. Which she is, I guess.
Silently opening the door, I step inside, close it, and move quietly to stand beside the bed. She’s lying on her side, her knees drawn up, with one arm curled up to cover her neck. A wave of hair has fallen over her cheek and I fight the urge to brush it away. Her features are compellingly delicate, but there’s strength in the line of her jaw. And her lips… She parts them as she gives a little sigh, and my eyes glue to them. I know what they taste like now.
Fuck! Enough!
It feels like I have to physically force myself to turn away.
It takes a blast of cold water to clear my head again, but I can’t shake the feeling of her mouth against mine. Scrubbing briskly as I stand in the shower, I soap away the sweat from my session, but I can’t wash away the image of her. Her eyes, her lips, the curves that are just hinted at beneath her baggy clothes…and my balls tighten. I squeeze my eyes shut and let the icy water beat down on my face. It doesn’t help. The throbbing between my legs is courtesy of a hard-on that could cut through glass. And there’s no way I can go back out there like this. She’d freak out.
I lean forward against the shower wall, setting my forearm against the smooth tiles and resting my forehead against it. Cold water hits my shoulders and my back. It helps a little, but not enough. I’m still throbbing like a motherfucker down below.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
It’s one of those moments where I have to take matters into my own hands. So I do. Grasping my shaft, I stroke my fist from base to tip, the tension building with each pass. My quickening breaths match the pace of my hand as I stroke myself, lost in the memory of Sierra’s lips on mine, her body pressed against me.
My balls clench, and I can feel my release approaching. I imagine her gasps, her small cries as I bury myself inside her. The sensation in me builds until it hits me like a lightning bolt. My hips jerk as I spurt into my hand, the water washing thick strings of cum away as I stifle a groan.
“Jagger?”