Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1] (16 page)

“I told you…” she began, and then suddenly fought for her thoughts when her mind went blank.

He was too much man—too much werewolf. She took a deep gulp of air, searching for the answer she’d rehearsed to tell him before.

“Because I think I can make a difference. Because I want to make a difference. And I know I can do it.”

Someone knocked on Heather’s door and Marc turned, sniffing the air. He smelled stale perfume—it was a woman. The hairs on the back of his neck straightened. Something wasn’t right.

Heather ran her hands down her suit pants, and then over her hair. She hurried past him, not saying anything but heading toward the door.

Marc turned and glanced at her laptop screen. Half sentences and partial paragraphs were the notes she’d taken in rewriting her article. She hadn’t gotten very far. It appeared she didn’t know how to begin. One paragraph caught his eye.

I’ve met a werewolf. And I’ve fallen in love. Here is my story.

Well, hell.

The second she opened the door he smelled fear and his instincts kicked in. Protect Heather.

“Margot…hello.” Heather sounded surprised to see her.

“There’s something you need to know. I just found out. You’re my friend and I had to hurry over here and tell you. It’s not good.” Margot paused, catching her breath. “Is he still here? There’s a police officer’s car in the parking lot. Is that his?”

“Good grief. What is it?” Heather asked, her tone suddenly alarmed.

Marc moved to the doorway, just out of view, but able to see a blonde woman about Heather’s age in her living room. The woman wore jeans, and she twisted her hands together in front of her, looking around the room before licking her lips and focusing on Heather. He recognized her as one of the women Heather had been with at the coffee shop.

“It’s about that man you’re seeing. Oh, Heather. This is really terrible. And I just don’t know how to tell you.” Margot looked around the living room, her nervousness filling the room with its obvious smell. “Is he here?” she asked again.

“Calm down. You aren’t making any sense.” Heather put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “There’s nothing terrible about Marc.”

Margot nodded her head vigorously, her face paling. “Heather…he’s a werewolf.”

Marc took a step forward, so that he could be seen in the doorway. The living area was full of the stench of fear and panic.

Instantly Margot’s hand went to her mouth while she stifled a cry.

“Margot. It’s okay.” Heather squeezed her friend’s shoulder but Margot backed away from her.

Her eyes were so wide they bugged out of her head. She looked from Marc to Heather while backing up until she reached the door.

“Heather,” she hissed, opening the door and giving Marc a worried look. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. There isn’t anything to worry about.”

Then Margot curled her lip, looking down at Heather and then back up to her face. “That’s sick,” she said, and then turned, giving him a final look before shutting the door quickly.

Heather let out a loud sigh and leaned her forehead against the door for a moment.

“Are you sure you’re ready to fight this battle?” Marc sensed her aggravation. It filled the room like the spicy smell of anger.

So many emotions clogged the small living area that it was almost hard to breathe. He had the urge to open a window, but instead focused his attention on Heather. So small, yet so strong. And now he would find out exactly how tough she was.

Her hand balled into a fist at her side, and she took her time turning around. “I want to run out and talk some sense into her,” she finally said.

Her head was held high, her jaw set with determination. Fire danced in her eyes. He hoped she had the courage to take this on. If she did publish that article, scenes like this would grow in leaps and bounds. For a tiny little thing, he had to give her credit, she radiated with the energy to not back down. And damn, he liked that about her.

“You can talk to her tomorrow.” He moved in, watching her take a moment before her focus was on him.

She looked up as he came closer. Confusion warred with frustration on her face. “Your pack doesn’t hate me.”

“My pack doesn’t fear you. And we’ve always known humans existed.”

The way she nibbled her lower lip, digesting his words, looked damned fucking good. He took her chin in his hand, cupping it while he tilted her face. Her lashes fluttered over those sultry green eyes.

The frustration still lingered around her. But its smell was softened by her desire. Just touching her hardened every muscle inside him. His sweet little bitch not only brought out every protector’s instinct he possessed, she also made him want to claim her over and over again.

“I guess humans have always needed time to adjust to something different,” she said on a sigh.

Decades of time, he thought to himself. But he wouldn’t discourage her. Her heart was in this, and that was what he’d ached to see. He’d been outraged when he’d thought she was using him and his pack to better her career, make a name for herself. There was no denying that had been her original intent. She had goals, dreams, and he’d allow her that. But he’d needed to see that she was sincere toward him. That she wanted him.

Had she truly fallen in love with him?

Marc didn’t believe in love at first sight—or second sight for that matter. But there was an infatuation, an interest, and it went beyond writing that damned article. Whatever he felt for her, or whatever she felt for him, he would allow it to develop, for now. There was no way he’d turn his heart loose though. Not when their potential relationship rested on such shaky ground.

“So why did you follow me home?” she asked.

“Lock your door.”

He felt her swallow, saw the glaze of desire darken her eyes. She turned, latching the door, and then moved quickly past him into her small kitchen area.

“Are you thirsty?” Heather pulled open her refrigerator, which he noticed immediately was almost bare.

No wonder the woman was so damned tiny. His mother never would have allowed their refrigerator to be even half that empty. A trait he’d carried with him as an adult. If anything, there is always food in the cupboard, his mother would say.

Reaching over her, he shut her refrigerator then turned her around.

“All I want right now is you.”

“That’s why you followed me home?” A small smile appeared on her face.

The frustration was gone. No more aggravation lingered in the air. Her wonderfully sweet smell of lust, of passion and desire, intoxicated him.

“Damned good reason if you ask me.”

Already he’d pulled her suit jacket off of her. Her lace bra showed through her silky white blouse. The view made his blood pump harder through his veins. His muscles hardened with restraint while his cock bounced to life painfully in his uniform. His fingers shook with the urge to rip the blouse from her body.

She appeared to read his mind. Her tiny fingers raced over the buttons, undoing them, offering him the view he craved to see.

“You are one hot little bitch,” he growled, reaching to unzip his trousers. His cock needed freedom more than he needed to breathe.

Heather moistened her lips, and he couldn’t take it any more. He pounced on her mouth. Lifting her into his arms, he impaled her hot, moist mouth with his tongue.

The way she gasped made his muscles quiver with the urge to grow. Need rushed down his spine sending the fine hairs on his human flesh into red alert. Her hands brushed over his shoulders, touching him, caressing him, making his nerve endings incredibly sensitive.

Her hands moved between them, somehow managing to finish unzipping his pants. When her small hands wrapped around his cock, everything around him tilted to the side.

“Damn it.” He needed her so desperately he couldn’t think straight.

His fingers fumbled over her pants, that hot pussy of hers being too damned confined. When he was about ready to simply rip the zipper free of the material, her soft, small hands covered his, moving in to take care of the task. He pulled his belt from his pants, placing his gun and cell phone on her table behind him.

“I need you, Marc,” she whispered into his neck.

Her breath sent chills rushing over him. His cock grew, pulsed, inflamed with desire to bury himself deep in her hot little cunt.

“You’ve got to let me down so that I can get out of my pants and hose.” Her breathing came in pants and her hair was messed up when she pulled away to look him in the eye.

“No, I don’t.”

Her smile almost undid him. “Yes, my dear. Just for a second. You can’t destroy my work clothes.”

He allowed her to slide down his body. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, so damn fucking soft and perky.

A cloud of need fogged his senses. But he’d have to give her credit. Heather managed to slide out of her pants and pantyhose in record time. He was a bit more awkward with his shirt, managing somehow to get it off without stripping every button from it.

“Come here.” He grabbed her, lifting her again into his arms.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, positioning her already damp pussy over his cock.

Her ass rested against the counter and she wrapped her arms around his neck, looking down as his throbbing cock nestled into her heat.

He thrust—hard. Heather let her head fall back and cried out as he buried himself in her as far as he could go. She was wet, so fucking hot, and tight enough that he could hardly breathe.

Sliding her blouse off of her shoulders, he cupped her breasts, kneading them while her nipples hardened like jewels against his palms. He nipped at her neck, driving into her heat with his cock while she held on tightly to his shoulders.

Her bra had to go though. He needed flesh, had to feel her. A quick tug ripped the thing from her body.

“Oh, hell yeah.” Apparently she’d quit caring about her clothes. “Ride me hard, my werewolf.”

Marc’s blood boiled through his veins at her words. He gripped her ass, straightening so he could watch his cock glide in and out of her moist heat. Heather’s cunt muscles gripped his shaft. Her white cream soaked his flesh, filling the air around them with thick, ripe lust. With every breath he grew more drunk on her.

“I want to go deeper.” He pulled her legs from around his waist, wanting—no, needing to bury as much of him as he could inside her.

“Oh shit. Marc.” Her body fell back on the counter, her head landing against the window over her sink when he pulled her legs up and rested her ankles on his shoulders.

Holding her tight, he began moving his hips, letting her cunt caress his cock. Damn it, if she didn’t feel so incredibly fucking good.

She gripped his arms, her fingers digging in as she held on and took all he could give her. Sweat glistened over his body, making her legs slide over him as he plummeted deeper and deeper into her tight heat.

Heather turned her head, reaching for her faucet, and let go of him long enough to turn on the water. Cupping her hand underneath the flow, she splashed cold water on his chest, soaking both of them.

Marc howled. The coolness shocked his senses, fed him with a new life, and made his cock harden painfully inside her.

“You little bitch,” he said, unable to hide a grin.

“Thought you needed cooling off,” she managed to utter between pants.

She tossed more water on them, soaking them, the counter, the floor, which made her laugh. He wanted her crying out his name, not laughing while she played with water. He was giving her everything he had. She shouldn’t be able to move.

Leaning over her, driving in hard and furiously, he rode her with more strength than he knew his human body could muster.

“Oh fuck!” Her nails dug into his skin, burning him as she scraped her hands over his arms.

But he had her attention. The water continued to run but their wet bodies slapped against each other while he showed no mercy.

“My sweet, hot, little bitch.” He could barely speak.

His cum rushed through him so furiously that he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried. Never had any female ever brought him to such a quick and hard climax. Growling until his throat hurt, he filled her with everything he had.

It took a moment to straighten. His muscles spasmed in his cock, hard and swollen deep inside her. When he raised himself off of her, she remained collapsed on the counter, her eyes closed, her breathing heavy.

“Are you okay?” he asked, enjoying how her perky breasts heaved up and down as she worked to catch her breath.

“Not sure,” she mumbled, still not moving.

Marc cupped his hand under the running water in the sink next to her and then poured it over her breasts. Her nipples hardened like round pebbles.

“Bitch,” she cried out, opening her eyes wide as she straightened quickly.

“I thought you didn’t like that word.” He was still stuck deep inside of her and her movement made her pussy muscles contract, stroking his cock.

“Do that again and it will become my pet name for you,” she threatened, giving him a dirty look.