Page 8 of Tracked By Hound

Slowly, I feel the fog in my head start to clear, and my breath slows as I feel my eyes grow heavy with sleep. I should probably think about what just happened and how the hell I’m going to deal with it, but I’m warm and my body is humming, and now I just want to sleep.

“Chelsea.” I feel Hound push back, but I don’t open my eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm, m’kay,” I hum, my voice a little slurred even to my own ears. “So sleepy.”

“We need to clean up,” he says, but I don’t bother opening my eyes. The thought of leaving this comfortable bed doesn’t sound at all appealing to me.

“Later.”

He mutters something that I don’t quite make out before I feel him pull away from me. I mourn the loss of his warm body against mine, but I’m too exhausted to protest. I slip in and out of consciousness. At one point, I feel a wet cloth touch the spot between my legs and over my thighs, and later, I feel him climb back into bed behind me. Hound pulls me into his embrace, wrapping his massive arms around me, and I cling to the man like ivy, nuzzling his chest before everything fades away.

Chapter Four

Hound

The world outside is quiet, wrapped in the stillness of the night, but my mind is racing. I glance at the clock on the bedside table, sighing when I realize it’s almost four, but I’m still wide awake. As someone who functions well with little sleep, it doesn’t bother me that I haven’t slept all night.

It’s the why that has my thoughts swirling.

I’m still holding her when the first sliver of pale dawn creeps through the gap in the curtains. It paints Chelsea’s sleeping form in a soft light, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheek and mouth. I find myself staring at her—as I have all through the night—and my breath catches somewhere in my throat. I don’t remember the last time I slept or woke up next to anyone. For a man like me, such warmth and quiet intimacy is a foreign concept. I’ve created too many enemies to lie comfortably in the arms of a woman.

But this woman is different.

A strange, unsettling flutter builds in my chest every time I look at her. It’s not unpleasant so much as it's unfamiliar. I turn my head away from the woman cozied up in my arms and glare at the ceiling, listening to her soft breaths.

What the fuck have I done?

I never expected to find myself here, wrapped in the embrace of someone so beautiful. So dangerously tempting. It’sterrifying in ways I have never experienced before. I think about the way she watched me last night, mouth parted as she begged me to abandon all reserve and just…take her.

I could have.

Christ, I was so close to abandoning reason and rutting her in my bed like a sex-starved maniac, but I sensed her innocence in the kiss. The way she watched me with surprise through every caress. Those beautiful golden eyes brimming with need and wonder as I touched her.

The way she reacted… It’s as if she’s never been touched before, so I held back. Shoved down my own need to impale her with my cock, to take what she was so innocently offering.

And it’s no wonder that such thoughts are slowly creeping back into my mind.

Fuck!

A wave of panic washes over me, cold and sharp with the sudden urge to leave. To get the hell out before I do something stupid like lean down and kiss that pouty mouth. Christ, she’s not some chick I picked up at the bar and decided to spend the night with. Heck, I was never supposed to even touch her in the first place.

I should have known better than to give into my baser needs.

With a sigh, I ease myself out of bed, careful not to disturb her. The sheets rustle as I slide away. When Chelsea stirs, I freeze, turning around to glance at her, but she doesn’t wake up. She tucks her hands under her head and burrows deeper into the pillow with a soft sigh that calls for me to climb back into bed and hold her close. One more glance at her and my resolve, which is practically thin as ice at this point, will simply shatter.

I force myself to look away, stumbling toward the ensuite. The bright bathroom light is harsh and unforgiving, and I avoid looking in the mirror. I know what I’ll see. Red-rimmed eyes, shadowed with the telltale signs of a night spent staring at a girl I had no right touching.

Jesus Christ!

I splash cold water on my face, the shock a brief, welcome sting, but it does little to quell the churning in my stomach. I can’t push off the thought that I took advantage of her. Chelsea is collateral—her purpose here is clear. She’s not a guest here, and despite those golden eyes staring pleadingly at me, I should have known not to give in.

The thought stays as I shave the stubble on my chin, the rough rasp of the razor doing nothing to provide any distractions. It’s her eyes and those lips I see when I step into the shower, that perfect body fitting against mine like a puzzle.

My dick is in my hand before I know it, and I drop my forehead against the tile as I jerk off, the memories of last night flooding my senses. The taste of those soft lips, the way they hitched against mine as I rubbed my cock over her wet pussy, her nails scratching my back as I slid my hard dick against her thighs, touching her soft tits…

“Fuck!” I grunt through clenched teeth as I climax, ropes of white flying onto the tiles and washing away. I stroke my cock faster, drawing out my orgasm as I picture Chelsea on her knees, taking my cock into that pretty mouth of hers. I’m panting when I’m done, but even that does little to rid me of the tension in my muscles.

Chelsea is still asleep when I finally leave the bathroom. She barely stirs when I walk to my closet, sprawled on my bedlike she belongs there, and a fucked-up part of me wants her to. For her idiot brother to skip town and leave her with me.

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