Wheeler (Seattle Sharks 8)

A warm shiver rippled over my skin, conflicting with the anger roaring in my blood.

“Let me help you,” I said, whispered. “Let me be there for you.”

His lips were warm against my skin, as he kissed his way down my wrist and over my palm, to my fingertips.

“I’m not pushing you away,” he said again, this time drawing my body flush against his. “I swear to you, Faith. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Then talk to me.” I groaned as his hands massaged their way down my back, stopping at the base of my spine.

“Look,” he said, continuing his torturous teasing of my body—just simple touches. He did this to me. He made me so entirely crazy with need that I felt my heart might burst. “There are things you don’t need to worry about,” he said, planting a kiss on the seam of my neck. “Especially with classes about to start. And our preseason coming up.” Another kiss paired with a flick of his tongue. “Please, Faith. Do you trust me?”

I glanced up at him, hating the uncertainty in his eyes.

Did I trust him?

My heart screamed yes.

But my brain? My brain was what drove me here in the first place. Thoughts of doubt and fear creeping in until it was all I could see.

I tuned out my mind and focused solely on what my heart said.

“You know I do,” I said, placing my hand on the center of his muscled chest.

“Then trust me on this,” he said, pressing his forehead against mine. “I’m here. I may be dealing with my own stuff, but I’m here. With you. That’s all I want.” He squeezed me tighter against him, and I snaked my arms around his neck, rising on my tip-toes to hold him to me.

And for the longest time, that’s what I did. I held him—this confident, strong, powerful man—needed to be hugged. To be held. To be lov—

“How much work do you truly have to do today?” He broke the silence we’d wrapped around ourselves.

“A little,” I said, knowing a few tasks could be completed quickly. “Unless you have something to add to the list.”

“I do,” he said, apology flashing in his eyes. “I would’ve texted you back, but…I think this being your last day is messing with my head.”

The truth in his words, the fear I could hear there, had me gripping the back of his neck and forcing him to look me in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

His lips found mine in a blink, a soft, sensual kiss that melted my insides.

“Good,” he said. “Work can wait.”

“What do you want to do?” I asked.

He unwound himself from me but kept my hand as he spun and grabbed a new book off the shelf. Then he was walking us down the hall, through the main room, toward his bedroom.

“I want to do nothing all day, but stay in bed with you. Read to you. Talk with you. Phones off. Screens off. World off. No distractions. Just…be with you. Is that okay?”

My heart had filled so much it clogged my throat, so I nodded, and let him lead me to the bed.

There was something super intimate about climbing into the massive thing with all of our clothes on. With no intentions to have sex at the moment. And, there was something unbelievably sexy as Lukas leaned against the pillows, tucked me against his chest, and cracked the book.

“This is one of my favorites,” he said. “It’s French, but I’ll translate.”

“Read a little in French,” I said, heat dusting my cheeks as my eyes flickered up to him.

That wolfish grin finally shaped his lips, and I found myself sighing in relief at the light in his eyes. It had been missing earlier. “Yes, my queen,” he said before launching into paragraphs upon paragraphs, the language rolling off his tongue like he’d been born speaking it.

I traced the lines of his abdomen as I let his words wash over me, content and soothing and calm.

Happy.

This was happiness in its most intense form.

And as he continued to read, to hold me, slowly touch and tease and kiss me between page breaks…I realized that it was my favorite story in the world.

Even though I didn’t understand a word of it.

Chapter 17

Lukas

“Omigod, that smells good! I’m here!”

My grin was instant and unstoppable as Faith skidded to a halt on the hardwood of my kitchen.

I didn’t look up from the Bolognese sauce, but simply pointed to the clock on the wall.

“What?” Her head swung toward the clock. “Shit. Come on. It’s like three minutes!”

“More like thirty minutes.” I looked up to find her staring at me, her nose scrunched up and cute as hell.

“It’s not like dinner’s done! See, you’re still making the sauce!” She dropped her backpack at the end of the counter.

“Because I started it ten minutes ago...because I knew you wouldn’t make it by six thirty.” I shrugged. “Admit it, you lost.”

“I did not!” She sighed and hopped up onto the counter next to where I was cooking.

“You did,” I said with a small chuckle. She glowered at me, and I simply stepped between her knees, pulled her to the edge of the granite and kissed her hello.

“It wasn’t my fault. The 509 was a parking lot,” she explained between kisses.

“You mean you got stuck in typical Seattle traffic?” I questioned, kissing her again when she scoffed.

“Fine. You win our bet,” she admitted with a smile. “What’s your chosen prize?”

“Hmmm. Let me think on it.” I tilted her head and kissed her deep, twining our tongues in a lazy, thoroughly satisfying dance. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I whispered against her lips.

“It’s only been two days.” Her fingers tested the shadow beard I’d grown over the last few days.

“So you didn’t miss me?” I hated not seeing her every day. Not waking up with her down the hall or in my bed.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, running her hands through my hair until they rested at the back of my head. “Maybe a lot.”

God, I loved this woman.

How the fuck had it been three-and-a-half months since Faith walked into my office? How had I waited so long to claim her, to kiss her, to hold her? More importantly, how long was I willing to wait until this was my every day?

The little velvet box in my pocket would definitely lead to answering that question, and now that Langley had kept the wolves from the door, I was in a position to ask Faith the question I’d wanted to since we’d gotten back from Sweden.

“How was school?” My thumbs stroked her cheekbones.

“Well, my marketing prof was very impressed by my summer job,” she answered, a mischievous glint taking over her eyes.

“Hmmm. Was she?”

“Yep. She said I must have a ridiculously high pain tolerance.”

Faith blatantly laughed at my dropped jaw.

“Oh come on,” she teased. “It’s a little bit funny.”

“Ha. Ha.” I kissed her nose and reluctantly released her. “How long do I get you for tonight?” Good, the sauce was almost done. I gave it another stir to make sure it didn’t burn to the bottom of the pan.

“I have a few hours of homework, but class doesn’t start until noon tomorrow…”

She drifted off, and I watched her eyes narrow at the clock like it was an enemy she was trying to outsmart.

“Why don’t you stay?” I offered, trying not to sound overeager. Hell yes, I wanted her to stay, but she was as skittish as an arctic fox. Whenever I pushed her to stay, she fled, saying she didn’t want to smother me. Whenever I tried to give her space, she showed up on edge.

I needed a damned instruction manual when it came to Faith. No matter what I did, I was second-guessing myself.

Her brow puckered as she studied me. I checked on the pasta, pretending I didn’t notice. After a minute that got downright awkward I said, “Faith?”

“You really want me to stay over? I thought you had meetings

tomorrow with Nordstrom?”

“I do.” The pasta was ready. “And you have school. But you can do your homework, and I’d still get to see you if you stay.”

She hopped off the counter, and helped me plate dinner, quiet and tense the entire time. We carried our meals to the dining room, and she put hers next to mine but didn’t sit.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want,” I assured her.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she said, but she was still stiff enough to shatter.