Under the Cove Page 3

  “Damn. Well, try not to be a total hussy and jump him when he walks in the door. Think of your friend who really wants to win this bet.”

  “What are the stakes?”

  “Winner gets to pick where we go for our next weekend away. Griff will take me to some fancy hotel or resort where he can spoil me.”

  “And you?”

  “My favorite murder podcast is having a live show in Chicago the weekend of the American Library Association convention.”

  “So, your weekend filled with murder and books rests on my shoulders?”

  “Not just your shoulders, but yeah.”

  I nodded as I reached for the door to the dispensary, ready to get to work so I could finish what I needed to before it was Matthew time.

  “I’ll do my best to make it to nine for you.”

  “That’s my girl. Have fun tonight.”

  “I plan on it.” I swiped to end the call, smiling at my staff. “Okay, folks. You’ve got me for about twenty minutes before I have to leave. Your boss has a date.”

  Food and treats in hand, I stumbled my way down the path to my front door. I had spent too much time at the dispensary and felt a little more rushed than I would like. Matthew would likely be there any minute if he was prompt, which I had a feeling he was. He didn’t seem the type to dawdle or be disrespectful.

  I had just set the food in the oven to warm when I heard a knock on my door. I sent a quick text to Brittani—he’s here, the countdown has begun—then I blew a rogue lock of hair out of my face, took one last look around to make sure there was no secret-single-girl paraphernalia lying around, and crossed the room, grinning when I opened the door.

  “Hey there,” I said, eyeing my man up and down. “You look nice.”

  Matthew smiled back at me, his grin disarming. His dark eyes locked on my face. “So do you, though that’s not surprising.”

  I allowed him inside, taking the flowers he offered me. Beautiful blues and purples sat in the cellophane, the green of their leaves a backdrop that seemed to cradle them. They were stunning.

  “These look like they’re made from the colors of water,” I said, taking a moment to sniff them. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He grabbed my hand before I could walk away, tugging me closer and dropping a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. “Thank you for having me over.”

  It took me a second to catch my breath, the butterflies fluttering about in my belly stealing all my air. Even my bobcat had swooned at that one, but she was an easy touch.

  “Thank you for being willing to come over and watch true crime with me.” I turned for the kitchen, taking a pit stop at the linen closet to grab the only vase I owned so I could put my flowers in some water. “Now come on. I’ve got dinner from the diner in the oven and some awesome treats for after.”

  “I like treats.”

  I stutter-stepped, nearly stumbling over my own feet. His voice had gone breathy, a depth added to it that I’d never heard before but that I liked. A lot. The implication stood out loud and clear—he would like to have me as his treat. I wasn’t against that.

  With a laugh and a deep inhale to clear my muddied thoughts, I began cleaning up the flowers to display as Matthew invaded my little house. The place wasn’t anything special—two bedrooms, two bathrooms, little kitchen, nice sitting area with a fireplace on one side—but it had a view of the cove that couldn’t be beat. As with most folks when they came over, it only took Matthew about three seconds to leave me behind and head to the patio doors leading out onto the deck that overlooked the water.

  “This is quite the view.”

  I poured a glass of wine for each of us then joined him, looking out over the cove. “It’s why I bought the house.”

  “Do you like to swim in the cove?”

  “Not in the least. I’m very much rooted in my bobcat ways with that one. But I’ve always been fond of water if I’m just looking at it.” I turned as Matthew took a sip of his wine, enjoying the view of his lips on the glass. The man was tall, more so than I’d expected or recognized at the library. Tall enough that I had to look up at him, which meant he had to be about a foot over my head. Tall and lean and absolutely enticing. “You look like a swimmer. Are you a water baby?”

  He brought his glass down, eyes still locked on the cove. “Very much so. It’s my absolute favorite place to be.”

  “I wouldn’t have expected that answer from a wolf.”

  He darted a look at me, his face going stoic and unreadable. I had a moment of fear, of knowing something was up that he wasn’t sharing with me, but then he smiled again and the fear faded. Didn’t disappear, but went quiet.

  I was so on edge from the whole mating thing. I really needed to relax.

  “Wolves like water,” Matthew said, his smile widening. “They’re not as finicky about such things as cats.”

  I cocked my head, shooting him a fake glare. “Are you trying to start a dogs-and-cats war?”

  He grabbed me around the hips and pulled me closer, pressing our bodies together. “Why would I do that?”

  His tone seemed honest and sincere, but his smile gave him away. I huffed and pretended to be annoyed, which just led to more tugging and leaning closer and perhaps even a kiss or two. Maybe. Not that I liked to kiss and tell.

  Okay, fine. They were deep, sensual kisses that had my toes curling and my breath catching. The man knew how to kiss for sure. He was also seriously handsy. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said he had more than just two arms with how he held me. Not that I was complaining.

  “I feel the need to untangle myself from you. I don’t want to burn the dinner,” I said with a laugh when we finally broke for air. Matthew chuckled as well, one hand still firmly planted on my ass.

  “Fine. But just for the record, I like being tangled with you.”

  I rose onto the balls of my feet and leaned in, dropping one last kiss to his chin. “I like being tangled with you, too. But let’s eat—I’m starving.”

  We strolled into the house, both of us laughing and chatting away as we prepared for our meal. I brought the plates and silverware out onto the deck, while Matthew carried the food for me. He also made sure to bring the wine as any smart man would do. Within minutes, we were sitting down to the surf and turf dinner the old lady at the diner had put together for us.

  “Shall we share?” he asked, indicating the two serving plates—one with salmon and one with steak.

  “Sure, though you can have all the steak if you don’t like seafood,” I said while tossing the salad with the dressing Momma had provided.

  “I love seafood, actually. This is the perfect dinner for me.”

  I grinned, a sense of relief pouring over me. “I’m glad to hear that. I was a bit worried, but Momma at the diner said this would make a solid wolf-bobcat meal. I think she intended the surf for the cat and the turf for the wolf, but this works out even better. That steak smells delicious.”

  He nodded, looking slightly uneasy for a moment. Though everything seemed okay once he took another sip of his wine. “Everything looks amazing. Do you go to the diner often?”

  “I do. They have a special now and again of the best macadamia-crusted halibut I’ve ever had. It’s to die for.”

  He nodded while spreading butter on a roll. “I’ve had that. It’s really good, but this crab-stuffed salmon is my favorite of theirs.”

  A wolf who loved salmon—he had to be one of those Alaskan interior ones, though I never could remember the different breeds. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad she recommended it.”

  We spent a good amount of time on the deck, looking out over the water and eating our dinner. The conversation flowed naturally, the subjects inquisitive but light—favorite books, funny childhood memories, ridiculous injuries that came along with being a shifter, as well as the most awkward places we ended up naked after a shifting incident. All normal, get-to-know-you stuff in our world. As the meal ended and we moved inside to clean up, the subject switched to my absolute favorite.

  “How did you get into true crime?” Matthew asked. The man had his back to me as he washed the dishes, refusing to allow me anywhere near the counter to help. I wasn’t even supposed to dry.

  Seriously, if there was a moment to make me fall in love, that was it. I hated doing the dishes.

  “I grew up in a human town, and the man two doors down killed his wife when I was a little girl. My parents were obsessed with the case, so I heard a lot about it.”

  Matthew glanced over his shoulder. “Did the guy go to jail?”

  I took a sip of my wine, releasing an irritated huff. “For like five years. Then he was back on the block, tormenting neighbors and killing people’s pets.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, he was a real piece of work. Eventually he moved, but as a teenager, I spent a lot of time looking for more records of his exploits and sort of cyberstalking him. I found others like him. Everyday men—well, usually men—who suddenly snapped and murdered someone. At least that’s how they’re portrayed to be, but the truth is, they usually showed signs of cruelty and control early on, particularly in their romantic relationships. The guy on my block had been violent for decades, but no one ever held him accountable for it. At least not until he killed someone, and even then, the sentence seemed like a slap on the wrist.”

  Matthew finished washing, turning and resting a hip against the counter as he began to dry the plates, an inquisitive expression on his handsome face. “Like when doctors say the kids who hurt animals have more of a chance to grow up to harm humans.”

  “Exactly. And once I delved into that sort of thing, I moved on to the more sociopathic offenders. The Ted Bundys of the world—seemingly totally normal and
even well liked, yet doing horrible things.”

  “The ones that are harder to pick out from the crowd.”

  “Yup. I love going down the rabbit hole of investigating their lives and looking for any signs of how bad things would wind up being. It’s my favorite hobby. Totally useless, but seriously enjoyable.”

  He finished the drying and even put everything back where it belonged before hanging up the towel on the handle of the oven. He then moved to stand right in front of me but across the counter, arms braced, eyes locked on mine with a serious expression on his face. One that enraptured me completely, making it impossible to look away.

  “What?” I finally whispered, almost trembling under the weight of that stare.

  “I can’t decide if your interest in murderers is adorable or terrifying.”

  I shrugged, giving my bottom lip a little bite before saying, “Why can’t it be both?”

  Matthew used that long, tall body to lean across the counter and give me another sweet kiss. “Maybe it can. Come on, show me your murder shows.”

  “Let me just put the desserts on a plate. Can you grab the wine?”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  We were on the couch and snuggled up within a minute, neither of us shy about our desire to be close. I grabbed the remote and turned on the television, clicking through to the streaming service with the new docuseries I had been so excited to watch. Truth be told, if Matthew had requested we do something else—especially something with a little less clothing and a lot more physicality—I would have jumped at the chance. But spending time with someone who at least pretended to be interested in your interests was nice, too.

  Plus, it was only quarter-past eight. I had to hold out until nine for Brittani to win the bet.

  But even just a few minutes into the first episode of the deep dive into Son of Sam, I felt myself growing more and more distracted. The story was good, the evidence fascinating, and the narrators the perfect blend of gritty former cops and emotional family members of the victims, but Matthew had his arm around my shoulders and his thumb brushing over my collarbone. That was impossible to ignore.

  I finally grabbed his hand, pulled it close to kiss the back of it, then pushed it down my arm. Conveniently, that damn traitorous thumb ended up resting on the side of my breast. This time, when it started its torturous back-and-forth, it was against the swell, just above the cup of my bra.

  “You are the devil,” I said, snuggling deeper into his side.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because your thumb rubbing over my skin does evil things to me.”

  He chuckled, never stopping the motion of said thumb. “I can go sit in the chair if you’d like.”

  “That’s not happening. I like snuggling with you.”

  He kissed the top of my head, squeezing me close. “I like snuggling with you too.”

  But snuggling became getting handsy, and getting handsy became far more distracting than just a thumb. Eventually, we ended up with Matthew lying on his back and me on top of him. He had both hands running up and down from my shoulders to my thighs, practically dry humping each other simply from the pressure of his hands. Not that I was complaining—I moaned and groaned with every pass, wanting more. Needing it.

  Finally, I cracked.

  I snatched up the remote, turned off the television, and grabbed Matthew by the neck to pull his face closer to mine. “Forget the show.”

  He kissed me immediately, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close before breaking away from the kiss to whisper, “Was I too distracting?”

  “Yes, but in a good way.” I spread my legs over his hips and rocked my body against his, unable to resist the attraction for another minute. Needing to touch and feel even more.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked between kisses, even as he reached up under my shirt to unfasten my bra with surprisingly agile fingers. I might have been a little impressed.

  Focus, Margaret.

  “I’m sure. Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, but I want to make sure you’re good. This is a first date.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t telling the full story. “True, but we’re fated mates. The universe designed us to do this together.”

  He grabbed me and rolled me under him, nuzzling into my neck before biting his way up to my chin. I dropped my head back. Mewling like a cat in heat—which I sort of was—and clawing at his shoulders.

  “I love the way you think,” he whispered before arching up to pull away. He slid his hand under my shirt and tugged, watching me the entire time. “Can I take this off?”

  I glanced at the clock, disappointment a heavy weight on my chest. “No.”

  His face fell at my whiny response, and he moved as if to roll off me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to push.”

  I laughed and grabbed at him, wrapping my legs around his hips and refusing to let him separate us. “That’s not a permanent no—but I can’t be naked until nine.”

  He followed my head nod, looking toward the clock on the wall near the doors to the deck with a most confused expression. “Is this like a Cinderella turning into a pumpkin at midnight thing?”

  “No, it’s a Griff and Brittani bet how soon we’d end up naked, and I want Brittani to win.”

  He chuckled and dropped his weight back onto me, kissing me with soft lips again, one, two, three times before pausing. “Ah, well, she is my boss. I should make sure she wins the bet.”

  “Exactly. Plus, it’s not that far away. We can resist the draw of nakedness for a few minutes.”

  He huffed and bit my neck again, making me shiver. “I’ve been wanting to get you naked since I saw you in Brittani’s office.”

  I moaned, tightening my legs around his hips to better cradle him. Rubbing myself against where he was so hard and hot for me. This night had been planned as a get-to-know-you, and we were definitely about to get to know each other. Physically. Sexually. Nakedly.

  The man drove me to make up my own words—deal with it.

  Matthew grunted as my hips rotated against his, rocking into me to increase the sensations. “So, when is this magic time that means Brittani won, and what should we do until it’s time to get naked?”

  “Nine. We have to stay clothed until nine.” I dropped my head back as Matthew slid a hand up under my shirt again, this time yanking down a bra cup to massage my breast. Even tweaking my nipple and making me jump.

  “You didn’t answer me,” he said, a deep growl in his voice as he sat back onto his heels and pulled me closer, spreading my knees wider around him and trailing the evil thumb to my clothed pussy. “What should we do until nine?”

  I glanced at the clock—fifteen minutes left. Plenty of time to have a little fun.

  I reached for the waistband of his pants and slipped a finger underneath, quickly finding the head of his cock to rub against. To tease. I dropped my other hand over his, directing his touch to my clit. Giving him license to touch me the same way I was touching him. It took him less than a second to take over, his touch turning aggressive in a way that had me groaning and arching into him. Had me slipping my hand deeper so I could wrap my fingers around him.

  With a wink, I squeezed him tight, rubbing my thumb over the tip on the upstroke. “You’ve got fifteen minutes—I think you should get creative.”

  The smile that appeared on Matthew’s face was one that both scared me a little and had me ready for whatever he had in mind.

  “You may regret saying that.”

  5

  Margaret

  Matthew wasted no time slipping his hand under my skirt and up my thighs. I followed his lead, wrapping my fingers as best I could around his cock while angling my arm to stay out of the way. It was both the best and worst feeling ever, sort of like a tease that you knew wasn’t going to go anywhere.

  “Matthew,” I moaned as he shifted his weight, dislodging my fingers from him. He moved again, pulling his hand from where I so wanted it to grab my arm and tug. “But I want to play.”

  “Your turn first. That’s the rule in my house and should definitely be in yours.”

  I grinned up at my handsome mate, running my fingers along his cheek. “A rule, huh? About who gets to come first?”

  He leaned down to kiss me just as he once again slipped those long, careful fingers into my panties. His smile when he pulled away melted my heart. “Rule, yes. You will always come first with me. In everything, but especially this.”