Chapter Eight

It was a while before we emerged from the outbuilding, Paul admitting that I had some things to think about after an hour or so of kissing and light petting. Okay, light to medium petting. Nothing below the belt though, except for when Paul gave my ass a squeeze after I felt his first. I'd say everything was over the shirt, but… hands only. It was the longest make-out session I'd ever had, the only other contender being that time in 11th grade with Andy Grabiel, but that had nothing on the intensity I felt with Paul.

Getting back to the point, Paul walked me back up to the house afterwards, pecking me on the cheek before I went inside, finding that out of all the people who had been there, only Billy was left. We had a little wordless exchange, my dad's face still a little solemn, so at least he didn't bring up anything that could cause me to die of embarrassment. I don't know what I would have done if he even mentioned the wolf thing.

Paul was right though; he had given me a lot of things to think about once blood started flowing back to my rain again. First off was deciding where to live – staying here in La Push, a place that was still painful for me, or further afield where it would be harder to see him, my father and my brother (once he comes back).

It was three days before I see him again, early Tuesday evening as I'm leaving the local store with a full bag of produce hanging from my shoulder. Paul had kept his distance, although I know for a fact he was lingering nearby as I set about my usual routine on Sunday and then started my new job for real the next morning, stationed at the kitchen table with my laptop. I had the strangest feeling in my gut as I went about gathering groceries, and it didn't fade in the slightest as I paid up and packed my bag. I wasn't even particularly surprised to find him standing outside his usual intense gaze drifting around before settling on me. His hands are in his pockets again and I'm glad to note he's wearing something to cover his torso – a sleeveless top that shows off his impressive arms and doesn't do a whole lot to hide the rest of his muscles, but a top nonetheless.

I lean against the door frame, pretending to be shocked by his presence and releasing my pent-up nervous energy by fingering the straps lightly. "Are you stalking me now?" I question, rocking my head to the side and biting my bottom lip. Paul's eyes zero in on it and his nostrils flare, eyes also becoming a little feral. "I'm starting to think you are… It's almost like you like me."

Pushing off with my elbow, I hop down from the shop's short porch to be caught between his mammoth hands. "No," he grins, pearly whites flashed as he looks down at me. "Just making sure you don't get lost again."

"Very funny. Don't worry, I'll be sticking to the road from now on." Smirking a little, I twist away from Paul's light touch and take a few steps through the parking lot, only to be pulled back against him by the tree trunk arms encircling my waist. I don't feel a modicum of embarrassment as his nose dips to my neck, lips trailing a quick line of kisses up the side of my throat.

"I can walk you back," he murmurs next to my ear, lips brushing that sweet spot just behind it. My head tilts reflexively, letting Paul's deliciously hot lips plant another kiss right there as my insides hum.

"I know you can," I sigh, far more breathlessly than intended. Our fingers entwine as I clutch the backs of his hands, saddened that I have to pull away, no matter how temporary. As expected, however, Paul refuses to budge, enclosing me within the cage of his arms still further. His unnatural – or rather, preternatural – heat surrounds me on all sides, thawing out the slight chill that has been creeping in as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

"Have you decided anything?" Paul asks, thumb absently brushing up and down the little indent in the left side of my waist. I can feel his eyes trained on me although my own are focused on an innocuous clump of shrubbery several yards away. My lips purse as he draws in and exhales a long, heavy breath, the air gusting over bare and slightly moist skin at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. A small chill rattles through me as I turn my head to catch his observing orbs. A frown forms on his brow, marring his otherwise smooth features. Releasing my grasp and turning a few degrees in his arms, Paul reluctantly frees me from my little cage. We're still alone in the parking lot, but I shrug my bag higher onto my shoulder, turn to face him completely and take his hand, tugging him to follow me closer to the trees. He follows without further encouragement, eyes locked on mine and every pace matching until I feel his hand on the small of my back and the rough bark of a tree catching the ends of my hair. Paul is only a pace away, lips a little pursed and eyes shadowed by the incline of his head.

"Why are you frowning like that?" I slowly question, reaching up to trace a thumb over those deeply etched lines while my fingertips rest at the edge of his cheekbone.

"I don't want you to leave." His gaze doesn't flicker for a moment but his voice sounds rougher, hoarser. His face suddenly reflects a man terrified at the prospect of losing the person he cares about most in the world. The subject of which I had never anticipated I'd be, at least not for many years.

"I'm not leaving," I answer soothingly, leaning forward until our features are only inches apart. I had made the decision yesterday, knowing that I couldn't leave La Push without the person I want to learn more about, who I want to spend my time with and who makes me feel good about myself in a way that few people ever have. I'm too scared to bring my feelings for Paul a name yet, considering that we have only spent a short time with each other, but the way he touches me, the sensations that course through me with the slightest brush of our skin is enough to confirm the suspicion that these emotions will only grow stronger.

The arrangements I'd made with Kerry before coming home had been settled through an IM chat yesterday evening, and thankfully she didn't seem the least bit put out by it. In fact, she'd been even more supportive of the whole thing than she had the first time we'd talked. So everyone is happy.

"Not yet. Not without you," I promise.

Paul's lips are on mine before I can draw breath and I sink into him. Every flex of his arms around me is possessive, as are his kneading fingers and exploratory flicks of his tongue against my minutely parted lips. The pressure of each touch makes me want to moan in delight, and the few that escape are quickly captured by his mouth. His expert fingers ease the bag from my shoulder before raking through my hair as they move to cradle the base of my skull, his body fluidly moving closer so almost every inch of his chest and toned abdomen are in direct contact with me. Paul groans too as I accidentally dig my fingers into his shoulder harder than intended, my nails undoubtedly leaving pale crescents in his skin. My right hand is far too occupied to cause him injury, thankfully, with a fistful of grey fabric clutched within it – an attempt to anchor him to me and prevent any retreat despite his evident lack of desire to do just that. It's going to be difficult to stop anything that flares up between us at times like this. After another minute, the hand tethering my face as close to Paul's as humanly possible slithers down, thumb caressing my collar bone before continuing south. A few tentative fingers glide around the edge of my breast before it's cupped within his palm, being weighed and gently squeezed through my bra and lightweight dress. Another soft nip on my lower lip has my back arching, pushing my breasts against Paul's chest and roving hand.

"Rachel, honey, you dropped your cell phone!"

The sudden call snaps me out of this reverie and Paul audibly groans, though this time out of frustration rather than pleasure. Retracting my hands and dabbing around my lips to ensure my lip balm hasn't been too obviously smudged, I comb my fingers through my mussed hair and sidle out from behind Paul and the evil, conspiratorial glint in his eye. He looks confident that we can pick this up later.

"Thank, Mrs. Ateara," I grimace more than smile, plucking it from her outstretched hand as she stands on the porch, hand on hip, with an almost smug, knowing smile and eyes that continue to dart between me and Paul's back thirty feet away. Remembering her comment last week about "misbehaving" and her similar smile, my countenance becomes immediately more exasperated as I plead, "Please don't."

"Don't what?" she counters, eyes narrowing and mouth twisting up mischievously. She taps the side of her nose before disappearing back into the store, while I watch wordlessly.

Turning back to Paul, that tall, handsome, wonderful werewolf, I find him looking straight at me again, one hand in his pocket with the other fist holding my groceries.

"Let's get you home," he nods, smiling and holding out his free hand. I stride back toward him and take it without a second's hesitation, checking my cell quickly to find a new text from Kerry.

How'd it go?

I glance up at Paul, who must be purposely looking away judging by the crooked smile on his face as we stroll back to my house, me tucked against his side. I smile too.

Good, I type back.