Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 57: Chapter 57

They wrestled under the water playfully. She got him good a few times, but Brock soon got the advantage and made it to the surface with her in tow. He sucked in the cool, fresh air greedily, watching Ariella’s pretty pink-cheeked face as she did the same.
“Have you had enough?” he asked.
“Not on your life,” she growled, just before tackling him once more.
Brock barked out a laugh as he caught the wily and surprisingly sporty woman. He was stunned at the vigorous rough play and the fact that she was so at ease with him after months of her shyly watching him with those killer amber eyes and deliciously pouty mouth.
Ariella was using her Shifter’s natural agility and strength against him. Shocked and full of admiration, he damn near had his ass handed to him in this unexpected bout of underwater wrestling. He could hardly believe it.
What Shifter male could resist a bit of frolicking with a sexy female? This luscious little tidbit had been haunting his dreams ever since he’d met her.
“I thought you were afraid of me,” he growled when she landed on his back and tried to pull him under.
“Afraid of a big ol’ puppy dog? Never! I eat dogs for breakfast,” she snarled and snapped her impressive teeth.
So, she thought she could get the best of him, did she? After vying for dominance, he finally overwhelmed her with a tickle pinch combination that had her yowling and calling mercy.
“You give?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her tempting body as close as he dared.
She was so small compared to him. Positively tiny. Fragile even.
Brock worried for a moment that he’d been too rough, but there she was, smiling up at him like a naughty little siren. He never would have guessed she would hide in the cool water, dragging him under for some aquatic rough housing.
He was surprised and, for the first time in a while, Brock had fun. It had been a long time since he could say that for real. She looked beautiful with her hair all wet, floating around her shoulders.
Of course, if he could ignore the throbbing boner in his soaked chef’s pants, that was all this would be—harmless fun.
But it was more than that. Everything about her was enticing from the rivulets of water that rolled down her cheek, to her neck, and down her chest to disappear somewhere in her generous cleavage.
Damn, that drop of water had the life!
He wanted to follow its path with his mouth and tongue. Brock wanted her. The strength of his desire gave him pause, but she didn’t seem to mind it. Not even when she brushed up against that part of him, he was certain would terrify the sweet little innocent.
Surely, if she was afraid of someone his size, she would’ve jumped or distanced herself, but not Ariella. She kept her hands on his shoulders and her body close to his even as he treaded water with her in his arms. Thank goodness they were in the shallower end of the stream.
“Okay, I give,” she said and laughed. “But just for a minute. I need to catch my breath.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she laid her head down on Brock’s shoulder, allowing him to hug her even closer. The contact was shocking, as it was novel. Her body was warm despite the water. This was as close as he’d ever been to Ariella except for when she’d ridden on his Harley. They played under the cold water until his lungs felt like they were going to burst, and he frowned. She must be tired. That and the catnip were why she snuggled closer.
Tell yourself that, his Wolf grunted.
Fuck.
She was going to be the death of him. He exhaled slowly, and Ariella simply sighed in contentment. During their games, she had flung off her sweater and had been tormenting him with hints of her lacy bra and pale skin as she played in and out of the water. She sat up, and he accommodated her with both his hands cupping her sweet ass. Ariella wrapped her legs around his waist, and her lace-covered breasts were pressed against his unfortunately still-covered chest.
“I got you good, didn’t I?” she said breathlessly, laughing as her dark hair clung to her scalp.
Her cheeks were pink from either the cold or the exertion. Or maybe from the effects of the catnip and booze. Either way, between that and the way her mascara was slightly smudged, making her thick lashes stick together, the feline looked positively adorable.
Pretty pussy cat. Tempting. Perfect. Ours.
In truth, he had never seen a woman look more beautiful. He felt his Wolf peek through his eyes and knew what the animal wanted, but Brock forced the beast down. He had to resist her, even though she was clinging sweetly to his shoulders so closely that her warm breath tickled his earlobe.
“I haven’t had this much fun since the fourth of July when Mom put magicked sparklers in everyone’s drinks at the Pride’s annual barbecue.”
“What happened?” he asked, curious about her, wanting to know more.
Fuck, he was pathetic. Brock should know better. He should stay away. But he was greedy for any snippet of information he could glean about her life.
“Well, Mama has always been a joker. So, at one o’clock in the morning, every single sparkler she’d given out went off—and with a bang, at that! There were tiny fires everywhere. Half the Lion Shifters who came to the event, especially the ones who were stupid enough to wear too much hairspray, went home soaking wet after their fires had been put out, with hats and scarves wrapped around their heads, and scowls on their faces. My cousin Layla’s beauty salon was booked solid for a month, and she had to special order hair extensions from overseas after buying out every supply store in the states,” Ariella told him, laughing out loud the entire time she told the story.
The sound of her joy was intoxicating, contagious even. But it was more than that. Her voice, her enthusiasm, and her general openness were just plain refreshing. Like a pinch of bright lemon zest, the kind he sometimes added to brighten up recipes.
That was his Ariella to a T. She was his own personal pinch of sass. Changing his point of view, shaking things up, and making him stop and smell the roses.
How many years had he spent alone? Always riding on the open road with his Pack with no end in sight. How many lonely miles sat between him and a conversation such as this one?
Fuck. Be honest, his Wolf snapped.
He’d never had a conversation like this one. She blinked up at him, mouth slightly open in a half smile as she waited for some reaction from him. That was his cue and, to his surprise, he found himself wanting to talk with her.
“Interesting party,” he answered and almost moaned aloud when her spicy, musky scent filled his nostrils and his lungs.
She smelled divine and if he was a wagering Wolf, he’d bet on her tasting even better. As a chef, Brock knew when he was choosing ingredients which were best by scent alone, and Ariella was the best of everything he’d ever come across.
There was nothing false or overly sweet about her. No cloying perfume or globs of face paint hiding her from him. Ariella was natural and unblemished, superb in her raw beauty, and he wanted more of it. More of her. Like the finest spices and top shelf herbs, she was rare and unique.
Mine.
He’d been fighting a losing battle. Insects chirping, the sounds of flowing water, and the steady night breeze made a symphony around them, but all he could hear was his and Ariella’s hearts beating in time. His Dire Wolf pushed him for more, but he held steady.
Once upon a time, young Brock had thought himself in love and the rejection was still sharp in his mind. But was he doomed to live in the past forever? Brock shook his head, and grabbing his nerve, he leaned down and brushed her lips with his.
He might be unsure of Ariella’s reaction to him in bed, to the reception he would get from a virgin, but he was downright cocky about his ability to kiss her mindless. So he did.
Ariella moaned gently and opened for his invasion while he kicked his feet to keep them afloat.
“Oh, Brock,” she moaned as his lips traveled from her mouth to her cheek and her neck.
“Ariella,” he ground out against her skin and held her tighter.
This was it. His big moment.
Brock was going to tell her, to confront her—no, to confess to her that yes, he was aware of what they were to each other. A knot formed in his stomach, and his heart threatened to beat him to death. He had to tell her why he’d been denying them and delaying the inevitable.
Do it now.
“Ariella, I need to talk to you,” he began and tried to fight the gnawing fear that had built up to incredible proportions suddenly. “Ari?”
Turned out Brock had zero reason to worry. Expelling a deep, calming breath, he narrowed his eyes as his burden grew unexpectedly limp in the cool water.
Since when was his hellcat a plaint, submissive female? One look down told him all he needed to know about her unusual complacency.
His golden goddess, his little hellcat, his sweet, lovely, and virginal Ariella had passed out on him.