Untitled

by Unknown Author

  She soaped her breasts; he'd suckled on her nipple until she'd moaned in pleasure, even then not relenting until she thought it wouldn't be possible to survive the sensation.

  She ran the soap over her hips and around her waist; his fingers had trailed tiny circles of fire over her tummy, running tantalizingly lower as she'd squirmed in anticipation.

  She dipped the soap between her legs; his tongue had been just…there. And he'd nipped and sucked and licked until she'd…

  No!

  She slumped against the shower wall, welcoming the shock of the cold tiles on her nerve endings. This shower was supposed to be taking her mind away from sex, not reminding her of everything he'd done to her. Yes, he was damn fine between the sheets— and above them, and on the sofa, and on the floor—but there had to be more to a relationship than just sex.

  The soap was lavender-scented—not what she'd expect to find in a household of men…

  Werewolves.

  Dammit! She had to remember that and stop thinking about him in this cutesy-girly, disgustingly lovey-dovey way!

  He couldn't be a nice person. It wasn't possible.

  He was a realtor. Therefore, he was a slimy salesman.

  He was a werewolf. Therefore, he ate people.

  And you enjoy it when he eats you.

  The sneaky little voice in her head was back. She could just imagine a gangly red imp giggling slyly as he—she?—rearranged all her thoughts in the most sensual way possible. Everything reminded her of sex.

  Aaaarrggggghhhh!

  Gina slammed her way out of the bathroom, hardly pausing to check her room was still empty before flouncing over the threshold. She needed some normality in her life. She needed some clothes.

  Miraculously, there was a pile of clothes sitting on the end of her recently tidied bed. While she'd been in the bathroom, someone had been in here. The bed was made, the curtains were closed, and there was a lingering scent of… pine forests.

  Nate.

  Her skin prickled, and she realized that nothing she'd told herself in the bathroom had sunk in. Nothing. She still wanted him, desperately, and her body was making its own arrangements. Not only was she starting to tingle all over—anticipating just how alive he made her feel with little more than a light brush of his fingertips—but her nipples had hardened, and she could already feel the moisture gathering between her legs.

  Traitorous body.

  She sighed and picked up the clothes that had been left for her, half surprised she wasn't expected to just wander around the house in the nude. After all, they hadn't thought anything of putting her to bed naked and had seemed totally unembarrassed to be hanging around in her room while she was in that state. A few drops of liquid trickled down the inside of her thigh.

  Traitorous body.

  * * * *

  Surprisingly enough, she'd found a pair of jeans and a man's T-shirt. It was way too big but, cinched around her waist and tied in a snug knot, it was at least respectable. The jeans actually fit—she figured she really didn't want to know which past girlfriend had left them behind—and she buttoned them up, smiling at the lack of underwear.

  It wasn't like she'd expected them to keep spare panties on hand or anything, but it actually felt a lot naughtier venturing downstairs, relatively modestly clothed on the outside, but going commando underneath. Who the hell had come up with that expression, anyway? She had some pretty serious doubts about actual commandos going out without their jocks…

  Still, at least she was clothed.

  Gina stopped, one foot already on the stairs. Would they be wearing clothes? It wasn't like they'd bothered last night…

  She shook her head impatiently. It didn't matter. It was their house. They could do what they liked.

  She continued downstairs, padding quietly along the timber-floored corridors. There was the hum of a TV coming from somewhere on the ground floor, and light spilled out from a door that had been left ajar.

  It was a football match, the volume turned fairly low but still unmistakable. Cool. Normal men doing normal things, just watching a bit of sport to fill in a lazy Sunday afternoon.

  She took a deep breath, suddenly aware she'd been holding it for several seconds. More confidently she reached out and pushed the door open. She was already two steps into the room before she realised it wasn't quite so ordinary as she'd expected.

  The living room was large—maybe three times the size of the bedroom—with a row of windows along one wall and an open fireplace at the far end. Despite the central heating, a fire was blazing away merrily, throwing out yet more heat. She could see now why whoever had left the clothes out for her hadn't bothered with a sweater.

  There was a mismatched collection of timber and leather furniture scattered through the room, with a sofa and two winged armchairs grouped so they faced both the fireplace and the widescreen TV and curled up on the sofa and chairs were three timber wolves.

  Gina came to an abrupt halt. It wasn't like they'd eaten her when they had the chance last night, and Nate had said they didn't eat people. Normal timber wolves certainly didn't eat humans—but werewolves?

  The closest wolf glanced towards her, unwound himself, and stretched, fangs showing as he yawned widely. Then he re-settled himself, curling up and tucking his nose under his tail. His eyes closed.

  Okaaay. So apparently that one wasn't thinking of

  her in terms of dinner. The wolf nearest the fire didn't even seem to have noticed her entrance, and the one on the sofa simply lifted his head, sniffed once, and looked at her. If it wasn't a wolf, she'd have said he was challenging her. But it was a wolf… Or was it?

  She realised she had absolutely no idea of exactly

  what a werewolf was and hesitated as she wondered what she should do next. That one wolf was still staring at her and, suddenly defiant, she decided she was just as entitled to a seat near the fire as they were.

  She threaded her way across the room and settled

  gingerly on the sofa, as far away as possible from the wolf whose eyes had tracked her progress but otherwise hadn't moved. It was the same singular stare as when something caught Nate's attention and she shivered, suddenly cursing herself for her stupid bravado.

  Her heart leapt as a log settled abruptly in the fireplace, flames leaping briefly before settling back to an even burn. Then she jumped even higher as she felt a cold nose trace a damp line over her partly exposed midriff. While her attention had been on the fireplace, the wolf had shifted closer, leaning his body against her tightly closed legs and placing his head in her lap.

  He looked peaceful, she decided, as his head settled more heavily into her lap. He'd closed his eyes and was just laying there quietly. Her heart rate gradually started to return to something more normal. Not that she could ever imagine herself considering having a sleeping wolf across her lap quite… normal.

  The other wolves didn't appear to have noticed her discomfort, and if he knew she was nervous, the wolf beside her was acting oblivious. She didn't think he was asleep but he did look—and feel—pretty darn relaxed. It was amazing just how heavy his head was after only a little while.

  If she hadn't thought it would disturb the wolf, she'd have hit herself in the head in frustration. She was an idiot! Of course he knew she was scared! He was a wolf for goodness sake, and if that made him anything like a dog, he could probably tell from her scent almost exactly what she was thinking.

  His fur was thick and looked silky smooth. Although the fur was mostly grey, sitting this close, she could pick out a variety of colors. Some darker, some lighter, and all blending together into a beautiful whole. Very, very carefully she reached out, the tips of her fingers slipping lightly over the fur between his ears.

  She jerked her hand back as the wolf moved, certain she'd mortally offended him, but he just settled his head more comfortably on her lap, his nose pressing close to the juncture of her thighs, and sighed. She started to relax again but held her hands safely away from tha
t very tempting fur. She badly wanted to run her fingers through it, but obviously

  that was out of bounds.

  The wolf lifted his head, looked directly at her, then lowered it again, eyes closed. Was that a warning, or a request? If it was a warning, it was a mild one. She had to do it. She had to pat him.

  A little more confidently she stroked his head. His fur was almost as wonderful as Nate's hair. No. It was better. Smoother, if not quite so soft.

  Almost without noticing, her strokes became firmer and longer. Soon each one was reaching from between his ears, down the length of his neck, and right into the thicker fur around his shoulders. Her fingers were kneading tiny circles whenever they returned between his ears, and the little sighs of content told her just how much the wolf approved.

  She glanced around the room, hardly believing she was really here. Or, more to the point, it was hard to believe she was sitting in a living room surrounded by wolves, and that one had had the gall to make itself comfortable in her lap. Her attention turned to the fireplace, to the flickering flames, then to the soft chatter of the commentators coming from the TV.

  Strangely enough, for the first time in a long time, she felt totally safe.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The match was over, the commentators droning on about statistics and final scores, when the door swung inwards and another wolf entered the room. He paused after a few steps, his attention instantly fixed on Gina and the wolf that was now stretched even more familiarly across her legs.

  Gina watched, fascinated, as he turned and prowled towards them. Her recent confidence was swiftly failing, replaced with the same vague uneasiness she'd been feeling almost continually since Nate had confirmed that the Moores really were all werewolves.

  Gradually, she became aware that she was being stalked. Those intense eyes were staring right at her. She tensed. She felt very hemmed in, and there were too many wolves between herself and the safety of the hallway.

  The new wolf's eyes never wavered, and his teeth were bared, unapologetically threatening. Was she about to become someone's dinner after all? She fidgeted, hearing the leather underneath her squeak in protest at the awkward movement. Where the hell was Nate when she needed him?

  She'd never realized just how graceful a wolf could be and couldn't drag her eyes away from the elegant movement of the creature that was quickly closing in on them. Her eyes had widened, and her mouth was dry. She could hear her heart, could feel it beating out a rapid tattoo. Even her fingertips were vibrating, and she couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to.

  The wolf in her lap finally condescended to stir itself and, for a frantic few seconds, she thought it was about to turn on her, too. But he simply raised his head and stared coolly back at the approaching predator. It was the same challenging stare he'd directed on her as she entered the room.

  He yawned, stretched, and, in a single fluid movement, jumped off her lap to stand directly in front of her, nose to nose with his obviously upset kin. She wasn't sure, but was that a…grin? He simply stared at the newcomer for a moment then wandered off to curl up on the floor in front of the fire.

  So much for her great protector! His nonchalance had made her relax a little, but there was still that cranky great beast staring at her, somehow managing to look threatening and kind of aggrieved at the same time. She watched him cautiously, watched the gradual softening of his stance and the effort he seemed to make to cover his fangs. The effort paid off—he actually seemed to look less wolf-like.

  Less wolf-like? Less wolf-like? She wasn't usually prone to hysteria, but how could a hundred pound wolf, the aggression still flowing off it and wrapping her in an uneasy thrall, possibly contrive to look anything less than what it so patently was. He was a massive great angry wolf!

  A wolf who was trying very hard to be nice, she

  had to concede a few minutes later.

  He'd sprung onto the lounge beside her, arranged his limbs so he didn't crowd her, then laid his head on her lap. When she'd unconsciously tensed and shrunk away, he'd patiently waited for her to relax again, then he'd lifted his head, wetly licked her hand, and resettled himself.

  Now he was here, comfortably spread across her lap, as relaxed as the first wolf had been; the threat she'd imagined as he'd padded across the room towards her seemed simply nonsensical. He was just a big cuddly…

  …man-eating werewolf.

  Gina shook her head. She was going to have to get used to having wolves wandering around the house. If she kept imagining herself as dinner every time she saw one of them, she'd go totally insane.

  Mind you, she was having a lot of difficulty believing she hadn't seen the usurper shooting a very satisfied glance at the dispossessed wolf by the fireplace. What was worse was that she was equally certain that particular wolf was shaking with laughter at her current 'friend'. If it wasn't pure sardonic amusement she could see in his eyes, then she didn't know what it was!

  * * * *

  Nate forced himself to relax. It wasn't easy.

  Yes, he knew that Sebastian had a well-developed sense of humor and, yes, Sebastian was also known for having a very sharp eye when it came to his appreciation of members of the opposite sex, but that hadn't made it any easier when he'd ambled into the living room to find Sebastian racked out on her lap.

  Jealousy was a fine thing—not! He could hardly believe the instant anger, the flood of aggression that had made him want to tear Sebastian's throat out simply for daring to touch his woman without permission. And as to Gina…she'd looked totally unconcerned at the fact his big brother had his head practically buried between her legs! Did she have any idea what Sebastian's sense of smell was telling him about her? About what she'd done with him only a few hours earlier.

  To be fair, Sebastian, Rob and Rafe would all have known exactly what they'd been doing recently. Their wolf senses were extremely accurate and, even if they hadn't been able to recognize the scent of a wellsatisfied woman, they'd certainly have heard her moans and whimpers—not to mention her occasional screams—as he'd worked her over with his tongue.

  Oh yeah, that had been good. In all honesty, he didn't often take the time to pleasure a woman when he was expecting nothing in return. Sure, he wanted to make them all hot and bothered, but—usually—he did it purely because he wanted them desperate to have him inside them. It was then that he could really start enjoying himself.

  This afternoon, however, he'd made her all hot and bothered, but he'd had no relief. He'd tongue-fucked her until she'd fallen asleep in exhaustion and, uncomfortable as it had been, he just didn't want to jerk himself off. Rather than take a cold shower, he'd gone for a walk in the forest only to come home to find his woman surrounded by werewolves who were all looking more than faintly interested in what she had to offer.

  Ugh, jealousy!

  He burrowed his snout more firmly into Gina's legs, cursing the idiot sense of chivalry that had made him leave her a pair of jeans. He should have made her go naked! He wanted to smell her, to press his nose against her skin and to inhale her unique scent. Raggedy as the nightgown she'd been wearing had been, it was infinitely preferable to the unyielding denim that covered her now.

  The primitive urge to mate was hammering at his senses, and he shifted restlessly, pushing his head under her fingers and rubbing suggestively. She got the hint quickly enough, and it wasn't long before she was stroking him with the same long, gliding caresses Sebastian had been enjoying so much when Nate walked in.

  He sighed and stretched languidly, content now he was being touched by his Soulmate. What was that saying about soothing the savage beast? He couldn't remember, and it didn't matter anyway. Gina still wasn't really comfortable with him—her fingers had trembled when she first started to run them through his fur—but she was doing it. For now, it was enough.

  Nate awoke to find himself alone with Gina. The others had taken themselves off while he slept, turning off the TV and lowering the lights on their way out. The fire
was ablaze but he could still smell the encroaching night air. It was damp and somehow sweeter than during the day.

  Above him, Gina was breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling in time with each breath. With her eyes closed she seemed more defenseless, and he couldn't help but admire the fact she'd actually been calm enough to fall asleep with a werewolf in her lap.

  He stirred, nudging her gently, but otherwise remained curled peaceably over her legs. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her. Her breathing hitched, her eyelids fluttered, then she was staring down on him, remaining perfectly still other than her eyes which had widened considerably as she remembered what was apparently asleep on her lap.

  Rather than leave her anticipating the worst for too long, Nate stretched broadly, his limbs extended to their fullest as he eased out the kinks from sleeping curled up in a ball. She was sitting rigidly still. Whatever she was thinking, she was obviously trying very hard not to give him any excuse to get upset with her.