Claim (Fury Brothers #5)

3. Bell

3

BELL

I wrapped my arms around myself. The rain poured down—drumming on the roof and rushing through the drainpipes.

My clothes were wet, my hair was wet, my bag was wet.

Beau stood beside me. At least, for once, I wasn’t alone.

He shook his head, and water flew from his thick hair. I grinned. He reminded me of a wet dog.

A big, sexy tattooed one.

“I’d better go,” I said.

“Where?” he demanded.

He was worried about me. I could tell he was the kind of guy who’d worry about a woman who was on her own. “You’re a nice guy, Beau.”

He snorted. “I’m not a nice guy. No one ever says that.”

“You are. I’m good at spotting them.” Actually, I was better at spotting the not nice guys.

He snorted again. “Did you actually look at me?” He held out one tattooed, muscular arm. “I’m the kind of guy mothers warn their daughters to avoid.”

I shook my head. Beau might be big, rugged, and tattooed, but I could tell he was good to the bone. “I’m not buying it. My mother taught me to never judge a book by its cover.”

“Why aren’t you with your mom, instead of in this crappy town waiting for the bus?”

My stomach clenched and I looked away. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

He stepped closer. “But I will.”

Something warm unfolded in my belly. It was nice knowing that someone was worried about me.

I reached up and touched his beard-covered jaw. “I have to go.”

I took a step back…and my foot slipped on the wet concrete.

Beau moved, lightning fast. He grabbed my arm, and we slammed together.

Oh, God . He was all hard muscle, and so much heat pumped off him.

“You’re so warm,” I murmured.

“Are you cold?” Strong fingers curled around my arms.

I swallowed. “I’ve been cold for a long time.”

And for a few hours, I wanted so desperately to feel warm and safe.

I pressed into his big body.

He groaned. “Damn, you smell so good.”

I had one bottle of my favorite perfume—Marc Jacobs’ Daisy Ever So Fresh—that I’d allowed myself to bring when I ran. It had always been my favorite. The bottle was almost empty and I rationed it like crazy.

My hands kneaded the fabric of his shirt, and the hard muscles beneath it. I wondered if there were more tattoos under the cotton.

He leaned down, and I heard him drag in a deep breath.

Then I threw caution to the wind and leaped up.

He caught me and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I wanted to kiss him, but I’d stopped kissing over a year ago. It was too intimate.

Instead, I attacked his ear, nibbling on his earlobe. His low growl echoed around us.

“Bell… Dammit, you’re too young for me.”

“I’m an adult, Beau. And there are no rules about age.”

“How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

“Bell…”

“Fine.” I scraped my teeth down his neck. His big hands clenched on my ass, and I rubbed against him. I felt the bulge of his erection and bit my lip. It was a large one.

“I’m twenty-three.” Almost. I would be in one week.

“You’re a baby. I’m much older than you. Too old.”

I guessed he was in his late thirties. “I say you’re just right.” I met his gaze. “I’m old enough to know what I want.”

He was quiet for a moment. “What’s that?”

“To forget for a while.” My voice turned to a whisper. “To not be alone.”

Something flashed in his gray eyes. Like lightning in storm clouds.

“I know I want you inside me,” I murmured.

He groaned again and his head moved toward mine. “I’m going to go to hell.”

My fingers tightened on his shoulders. “Um, but no kissing.”

I couldn’t handle it if he kissed me. I’d want more, I’d want too much.

It would hurt too much when he was gone.

“Okay,” he said. “What about kissing you in other places?”

I squirmed, imagining all the places this man could kiss me. “That’s fine.”

“I’m definitely going to hell.” He spun, holding me with ease as he fumbled in his pocket. He pulled out a key and opened the motel room door.

I smiled. “I think it might be worth it.”

Storm-cloud eyes met mine. “I think so, too.” He carried me inside the darkened room.

It wasn’t fancy. It was like a million other motel rooms across America—double bed with a colorful cover, TV, a circular, wooden table with two chairs.

He hitched me higher, and his mouth found my neck. His delicious beard scraped over my skin, and I gasped.

He set me down on my feet and backed up. He sat on the edge of the bed, then reached over and turned on the lamp. It bathed the room in a warm glow.

His wet shirt stuck to him, outlining the heavy ridges of his chest and stomach. My gaze dropped.

Oh . And the hard, intimidating bulge in his jeans.

He dangled his hands between his legs. “Take those wet clothes off, angel.”

There was hot desire in his face, and need in his voice. My skin flushed hot.

I wanted to undress for him. I let my backpack slide off my shoulders. Then I unbuttoned my shirt and dropped it to the floor. It hit with a wet slap.

In my life before, I’d had lots of cute sets of underwear. It had been the thing I liked to splurge on when I had the money. I was damn glad right now that I had on a sheer, black-lace bra.

He reached out and cupped my breast. My nipples were hard points. Beau growled.

I felt that sound between my legs.

I lowered my hands and unbuttoned my jeans, then pushed them off. I stood there in just my bra and black lace thong.

I was well aware that I was slightly above average height, and a little too thin for my frame. I’d added some muscle over the last year but lost some weight. I had no super lush curves. But the way Beau looked at me made me feel beautiful.

“Come here,” he growled.