The tops of his cheeks brighten, which could be due to anger or embarrassment at being caught in the act. “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.”
“Says the ever-vigilant wolf, surprised by nothing.” A rustle in the bushes sends a new influx of adrenaline through my veins.
Yellow eyes aglow, a black cat scurries across the street.
Reminded of the lurking danger, Axel grips his weapon. “Fuck. We shouldn’t be arguing out here. Hold my belt and stay behind me.”
Once inside, he turns off the alarm, closes all the blinds, and reviews the security footage. Alone in the small kitchen, he tips up my chin and gazes into my face with such intensity that tears cloud my eyes.
“I love you, Gwen Wulf. You are my everything. My cock has but one desire: you. It’s been that way since that first day on the beach.”
Smiling, I recall last summer when he and his dog came to my rescue. My first view of my husband-to-be was the front of his swim trunks.
Seeing me soften, Axel tilts his head and brushes his lips across mine. I lift my arms, dig my fingertips into the back of his head, and hold him in place. As we take the kiss deeper, all my doubts fade away. If he says nothing happened in that lavatory, I believe him. He worked undercover for years. Surely, he knows how to stage a quick fuck in a bathroom. However, one question remains. Why did the Interpol agent think the play was necessary?
Before I can ask, my silver wolf slips off my top and bra, backs me to the refrigerator, and sucks my breast.
Caught off guard, my clit thrums while hot liquid leaks from my core.
With my ankles locked around his waist, I bite his earlobe. “Bedroom.”
“Copy that.” Strong hands cup my butt cheeks.
Lips locked, we make our way down the hall. All thoughts of infidelity disappear as our tongues tangle. Seconds later, I lay naked on the queen-sized mattress. On his knees, Wulf spreads my legs and nips my inner thighs.
My desire spikes as I pull on his hair. “Oh, God, if this is what makeup sex is like, we should fight more often.”
Chuckling, he curls a finger inside me. Then, he sucks my blastoff button. My eyes squeeze tight. Fireworks loom, my muscles brace for takeoff, and someone pounds on the damn door.
On the narrow edge of orgasmic splendor, I tug his earlobes. “You answer that before I come, and I swear, this time I will-”
He jumps up and slides into me fully. Our cores collide, and I burst into a million pieces. The pounding continues, but we ignore it. Grunting, he pistons inside me.
“I know you’re in there, Wulf. Let me in, or I will shoot off the lock.” Bitchany shouts so loud, I pray the neighbors will call nine-one-one.
“Forget her.” I give my man credit for the singlemindedness with which he ups his pace. Our bodies slick, our skin slaps, the headboard bangs, I scream, and we come.
While I float back to heaven, glass breaks, and the house’s alarm goes off.
“God damn it!” Axel throws on a pair of boxer shorts, grabs his weapon beside the bed, and stomps into the living room.
After slipping a loose shift over my head, I grab my RF blaster and follow.
In the kitchen, a much different Brittany stands on a pile of broken glass. The ocean breeze must’ve tangled her blond locks, her high heels have been replaced by sneakers, and brown streaks of mascara stripe her face. “This is all your doing, you stupid cunt.”
My FBI agent pushes her out the door, and she cries, “Someone killed my roommate. Your weird wife blew my cover, and now I need a place to hide. I’m staying here. You owe me.”
Chapter 5
“If you come for the wolf, prepare to be eaten.” ~Unknown.
Axel
Shit. I can’t tell if she’s lying, but with Brittany Babcock, anything is possible. I wave the disheveled diva to the kitchen counter barstool so I can study her face.
“Did you call the police?”
“No, it’d blow my cover.” The blond’s scornful tone causes my wife to scowl and step closer.
