Chapter Ten

“Fear,” Brock admitted.

“Of what?” Jemma demanded, not backing down an inch.

“Myself. You. Looking like a fool. What if you did want Laramie?” Those had been the thoughts rolling through his head, and he’d let his fear lead to anger. Anger he’d taken out on Jemma by constantly snapping at her and pushing her away even as he sought her out at every turn.

“Bullshit!” she yelled. “You’re not afraid of anything. Least of all me. If you’d wanted me, you would have taken me. Instead, you walked away at every turn.”

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s what I know,” she countered. “Every encounter turned into an argument. Every time I stepped outside, you were there trying to shove me back into the house.”

“I just want to protect you.”

“Not by suffocating me. My parents were murdered, and before I could even begin to process that, I was taken, handed off to another, and caged for five years. Five years! Do you know what it’s like to be locked away? To escape one prison only to have the next person try to shove you into a different cage?”

“Christ, Jemma! I don’t want to cage you.” He didn’t know what to say. She’d never once mentioned her parents or what had happened.

“Then don’t!”

“Any reason why the two of you are yelling at each other in Jensen’s office?” Matheus asked as he walked in. “I thought you’d kissed and made up?” He paused, inhaling deeply.

“We haven’t mated,” Jemma snapped, her temper still high as far as Brock could tell. Damn if it didn’t ignite his own.

“Yet,” he snarled.

Matheus laughed. “The two of you are fun to watch.”

“I thought you said he was the peacekeeper?” Jemma crossed her arms over her chest, glaring between Brock and his brother now.

“I doubt a saint could keep the peace between you two,” Matheus said with a smile. “Anyway, I came to take over watch for a bit. Jensen is actually resting, and Jemma, you should, too. Both of you.”

“I like that plan,” Brock agreed, then before Jemma could say anything, he had her over his shoulder and was striding through the door.

“Put me down!” she screamed, drawing the attention of everyone they passed with her thrashing and yelling.

Brock ignored her tantrum and the looks. He held Jemma in place and headed toward the cabin he’d prepared earlier. The one he’d intended to talk her into going to when he’d found her. Matheus had known exactly what he was doing, which was probably why he’d shown up and made the suggestion Jemma needed rest, too. Brock shoved into the cabin, closing and locking the door behind them, before tossing her onto the bed and following her down.

“Settle down,” he ordered when she swung at him.

“I told you to put me down.”

“I did.” He pressed her into the bed with his bulk, spreading her thighs and lining them up, so she could feel the effect she had on him.

“Brock.”

“What did I tell you we’d do?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She turned her head away from him, but he caught her chin and forced her gaze back to his.

“I said we’d shower, eat, sleep, then talk. We’ve done all of those. That only leaves one thing.”

“I’m not saying the vows!”

“Maybe, I’ve changed my mind.” He rubbed his groin against hers. “Perhaps, I can wait for the vows, but I can’t wait to touch you, to bury my head between your thighs and taste you.”

“Brock.”

His name was a moan now. He liked it any way she said it, but that moan was like a caress along his skin.

“Let me taste you, love,” he whispered against her ear before he trailed kisses along her neck.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“Why?” he murmured along her jaw.

“I don’t know.”

Another moan and he grinned even as he took her lips. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him closer. He’d planned to wait, to make them both wait for her to say the vows that would bind them as mates, but he couldn’t. He needed her. Needed to claim her as his with or without the words. She slid her fingers along his shoulders and down his chest until she burrowed them under his shirt. Without thought, he leaned up, reached back, and ripped his shirt off over his head, tossing it away.

“Yes,” Jemma sighed as she ran her fingers over him. Then her lips followed, and he nearly swallowed his tongue.

They’d slept together the night before, skin to skin, but he’d done his best to be a gentleman and keep his hands confined to only certain areas. Now, he quickly slipped them under her shirt and shoved it up and off her, making quick work of the bra beneath, as well. She urged his mouth back to hers. Brock relished the feel of her hard nipples against his chest. It reminded him of how he’d awoken with every delectable inch of her pressed close. He planned to wake that way every morning.

He broke their kiss and finally made his way toward her nipples. He’d seen them, felt them. Now, he needed to taste them again. He flicked his tongue over one before swirling it around, watching as the tight nub grew harder. Jemma moaned, arching into his mouth.

“Oh, God!”

He moved to the other breast. She was firm and full, and he couldn’t get enough of her. He kissed his way down her body, pausing to snap open her jeans as he did. He had them spread wide, ready to pull them off, before he slipped off the end of the bed. He jerked off her shoes and socks, then with a quick tug he had her jeans on the floor. His gaze swept over her. Long legs, slightly askew, gave him a glimpse of the flushed folds he planned to devour next. Her hips. The nip of her waist. Those mouthwatering breasts. Her face, flushed with desire. She was perfection, and she was his.

Brock finished undressing and went to his knees, pulling her down the bed and guiding her legs over his shoulders as he dipped in for the first taste. Spreading her with his thumbs, he ran his tongue over her. He meant to be slow, to take his time, but with one taste, he couldn’t hold back. He was ravenous. Both of her hands locked in his hair, and she wavered between urging him closer and almost ripping out his hair as she tried to pry him away.

“Oh, God! Brock! Please!”

Jemma screamed when he thrust a finger into her channel and fucked her with it as he sucked on her clit. She bucked and moaned. He had her coming within minutes and switched his finger and tongue, so he could lick inside her and drink her release while he worked her toward another. Then another, until she was completely spent beneath him.

“Jemma.” He moved up her body, pausing when his shaft slid along her folds. Her release coated him, slicking him for what was to come.

“Brock,” she panted, lifting a limp hand to touch his chest. “Wait.”

He clenched his teeth, struggling then finding the control he needed. If she wanted to wait, they’d wait. He rolled off her, landing on his back beside her on the bed.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, rising on her elbow to peer down at him.

He kept one arm thrown over his eyes. “If you want to wait, we’ll wait.”

“I didn’t mean…” She paused as he sat up. “I’m not going to hide when trouble comes.”

Brock growled. “I’m hoping, with everything that’s happened, it will be a long time before we have to deal with hunters to the extent we have been.”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot happened while you were unconscious. Hours after we were attacked, Marcus Blain led an attack on the cat pride in Oklahoma. Blain and his group were killed. Laramie’s been in contact with their alpha, Tah. Our hope is the hunting society Blain headed has scattered now that Blain and Dr. Talbot are both dead. There’s talk of forming an alliance, cats, wolves, bears, coyotes, and even the group of soldiers Tony Sandoval has under his command.”

“He’s the one they call Sandman, right? The billionaire who fights for and with us?”

Brock nodded. “He’s practically a brother with a black liger shifter name Aleksy. They grew up together. And if things go the way Laramie plans, you’ll get to meet most of them. He’s invited them here.”

“I…” She shook her head. “None of this is what I meant when I asked you to wait. I wasn’t asking for conversation, Brock.”

She slid her gaze down to his hard cock, which hadn’t gotten the stop memo just yet.

“I’m okay with waiting,” he promised.

“We’re going to fight and argue. Mating won’t change that.”

“God, I hope not. You drive me insane, and I wouldn’t change it for anything,” he admitted.

“You really mean that?”

“Bear with me, Jemma, because the thought of living without you is unbearable. I love the way we argue.”

“Then I guess there’s only one thing left to do,” she murmured, rising onto her knees and facing him. He wasn’t sure what she had in mind until the first question left her lips.

“Will you protect me?”

“Yes,” he forced past the lump in his throat. She was giving him the vows he’d wanted.

“Will you care for me? Make sure all my needs are met?”

“Yes.”

“Will you allow me to stay at your side? Your side, Brock, not hidden away or shoved behind you.”

“Jemma.”

“Allow me to go where you go?”

“Yes. I swear, Jemma. You’ve asked, and I’ve agreed. Your mine, and I’m yours. From this day until my last day.”

“I guess that leaves one last thing.”

He shook his head. Jemma lay back on the bed and spread her thighs. She ran one hand from her hip up to cup her breast in offering.

“Vows and begging, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“You said you’d never beg,” he reminded her with a smile.

“I changed my mind when I felt your tongue. Please, Brock. Make love to me. Make me—”

He silenced her with a kiss. She was already his, had been from the moment he first saw her. He’d let too many things stand between them. She was his mate now. His to love and protect and share life with.

“You’re mine now, Jemma.”

“Show me,” she begged.

“Gladly.” Then leaning down, Brock took her lips once again.