Fuck. The last thing he’d wanted to talk about was his brother, but he’d walked right into that. Idiot.
Keeping things from her was futile. Thinking this camaraderie between them would wane was useless. He felt her under his skin, smelled her in his sleep, tasted her when his mouth was dry. He didn’t want to need her. But the way she stared at his chest, the way her kiss ignited a passion in him he hadn’t known he possessed, wiped away his confusion. She planned to kill him. He’d love her until they found Dobson. Until she needed to follow through with her assignment. Because her life was more important than his.
Love her?
“So are you going to tell me or not?” Her satiated voice shook him from his thoughts.
“It’s the Zodiac sign for Cancer. In honor of Max.” Would she settle for the short answer?
Her hand tickled his flesh, her fingers delicately gliding over his heart. “You put it in a special place. Your brother must have meant a lot to you. You said he died from depression after losing his mate. How is that possible?”
Her voice dripped with concern, compassion. He’d never told a soul the depth of Max’s despair. The pack believed poison had taken his life, not heartache. Hugh thought it better to honor him that way.
“He actually died from a broken heart.”
She continued to comfort him with small, gentle traces from her fingers. The feel of her fingertips over his heart, over the one thing he had left of Max, prompted him to continue when she remained silent.
“Did you know the death of a loved one can kill you?”
“No,” she whispered.
“It’s called Broken Heart Syndrome. It produces a toxic overload of stress hormones that result in stress cardiomyopathy. My brother experienced the same symptoms as a heart attack. Shortness of breath, chest pain, fluid in his lungs. These all severely weakened his heart. He ignored the shifter half of his being and let the pain of losing Heather destroy his human half. He didn’t want to fight it. Wasn’t resilient enough. His grief stressed his heart to the point of melancholy and depression, and he chose to give up. He couldn’t bear to live without her.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.”
She dropped a kiss over the tattoo. “Thanks for sharing that with me. I know you’re hurt that he left you.” She turned her head and laid her ear on his chest. “Your heart tells me so.”
He did not want to talk about his heart. Or how speaking of Max had conjured up ideas that Tess was his mate. The intimacy between them at this moment choked him. Once again, he’d shared something with her he’d never shared with another soul.
Silence filled the space around them until she said, “What sign are you?”
It amazed him how she seemed to know just how far to push him on certain subjects. He was grateful he didn’t have to elaborate on the heartache his brother’s passing had caused. By having the tattoo over his heart, he’d hoped to protect himself from further pain there. The mere sight of Tess ruined that plan.
“Taurus. How about you?”
“I’ll give you three guesses.” She lifted her head so it rested on the couch.
His body and mind relaxed at her game playing, but her nakedness distracted him enough that he couldn’t think of a damn Zodiac sign besides his and his brother’s. “How about we make it multiple choice?”
“Fine. Aries, Scorpio, Aquarius or Pisces. Take your pick.”
He traced a finger along her arm. Her tanned skin was silky smooth, flawless. Toned. There wasn’t an unseemly mark on her. There wasn’t a tan line on her either. Her golden skin offered beauty unmatched. It pushed his sexual drive into fourth gear.
“Sagittarius. Now tell me why you don’t have any tan lines.”
“Hugh! That wasn’t a choice.”
“Sorry.” Wow, he’d thought of a sign. “Your body is distracting me. And to be honest, I don’t really care. The tan lines—that I care about.”
She scooted up, bent her legs and brought them to a sideways angle atop the couch. Now he had a glimpse of her fine ass. This tactic of hers, naked on the couch in a provocative pose, might kill him without too much hard work on her part.
“I don’t have any tan lines because I sunbathe in the nude.”
I’m a goner. One rung on the death sentence down, not many more he could take. His expression must have tipped her off to his utterly confusing enchantment with her because she continued. A good thing since he needed to pry his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
“In my backyard. Alone. Although occasionally Kensie or Francesca might join me. I love the sun, love to be outdoors.”
He’d love to see her in the sun, outdoors, sunbathing. “Now tell me about your tattoo.” He couldn’t see it with the way she sat, but remembered it distinctly. It was a Kanji tattoo but he didn’t know what it meant.
“It’s the symbol of strength in Kanji.” The after-sex glow left her flushed cheeks, and Hugh sensed like him, the tattoo was a sore subject.
Still, he needed to know more. “Why did you pick that?”
“It’s a long story.”
If she thought he’d let her off the hook after what he’d just confessed, she was wrong. He knew about her family, but he didn’t know about her past loves. Past boyfriends. And his intuition told him the tattoo had to do with that. Did her past really matter in the scheme of things? In the short time they had together? No. But he was curious. And obviously a lovesick fool who needed details.
Lovesick?
“I think we’ve got a while until the rain lets up,” he said.
“Good.” She pushed up on her knees and straddled him. “Ready for round two?”
Okay, he’d have to pry it out of her later because, in case she hadn’t noticed, his cock was ready. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
Chapter Fourteen
Hugh woke with a start. The rain had stopped.
He checked his watch by carefully lifting his arm. Three A.M. He’d been asleep for about an hour. As he lowered his arm back over Tess’s sleeping form, he breathed in the scent of her citrus shampoo, enjoyed the feel of her backside snug against his front.
His office was warm, quiet. A dim light from an overused lamp on his desk finally flickered goodnight. The Persian rug he and Tess were sprawled on was thick and soft, and with the late hour he decided to let her continue sleeping. They could leave for San Diego in the morning.
Before they’d fallen asleep, he’d gotten to know every intimate part of her body. He’d navigated every slope and curve with his fingers, his lips, his tongue. Nothing tasted sweeter than her skin. Sugar-coated, yet salty sensations had slid to the back of his throat with each lick. He’d had to remind himself to rein in his brawn before lust got the better of him and he bit.
Nothing stirred greater passion in him than her response to his touch. Her body shook, trembled, burned. Her hands had repeatedly brought him closer so not a sliver of space existed between them, no matter their position. Her arousal had singed his nose. The beat of her heart drummed an intoxicating rhythm that slayed him. He took her to climax over and over again with ease and confidence. Her bones softened underneath him.
As they’d lain in each other’s arms, sleep beckoning, he’d learned about Jason. She didn’t articulate so much as reveal through her body language the depth of their relationship. Her heart rate had picked up, her pulse had pounded in his ears, and something had flickered in her eyes. Regret? Denial? He didn’t know for sure. All he knew was that Jason’s death meant more than just a loss, but he couldn’t figure out what.