His cock, thick and rigid, lay on her naked abdomen, so scrumptious it begged to have her lips around it. That impulsive nature everyone was always cracking on her for made her slide down the couch until his cock was directly in front of her lips.
Ella snaked her tongue out, lashing the head in one swipe. His shaft was hot beneath her tongue, smooth and pulsing.
Crosby’s hands instantly drove into her hair, his hips making tight circles as he thrust between her lips. She stroked him with her tongue, focusing on the spot just under the head of his cock, drawing her hands up and down, cupping his balls until they were tightly drawn against his body.
His head fell back on his shoulders and hand shoved hers away, gripping his shaft, slipping his fingers between her lips and touching her tongue.
The air between them grew heavy and thick, and Ella sensed Crosby’s release nearing. As she took another long pass over his shaft, he snapped back with an almost angry growl and dropped down on top of her.
His heavy weight sinking against her was welcome. He lifted her right thigh by hooking his arm beneath it, stretching her pussy deliciously. Her clit, now exposed, throbbed and scraped against his crisp pubic hairs. Crosby took her lips in a fierce kiss before moving his head to her breast and capturing a nipple. He bit at it, licking it to keep the sting pleasurable.
And then he drove his luscious cock into her, making her head thrash against the couch and her back bow with tension.
Crosby stilled for a moment, immobilizing her. His head rose and his eyes, darkened with desire, stared down into hers—as though he saw something no one else did.
The moment was vulnerable and fleeting, and she couldn’t bear his apparent confusion. Reaching up, she cupped his face and pulled his lips back to hers. Ella lifted her hips, encouraging him to take her.
Crosby responded instantly, gyrating his hips, rolling them so he touched the deepest part of her.
The moan that screamed from her lips was almost a howl, a wail, as her orgasm tore through her. She planted her hands on his shoulders and crashed upward against him. Their flesh slapped together, sweat sealing their skin in an erotic union. Her bones jarred and her cunt flamed with the rush of electricity Crosby created as she reveled in his final thrust.
He released a whoosh of air, his chest expanding against hers. Driving a hand under her waist, he nuzzled into her neck and inhaled.
That’s when reality sank back in.
When they made love, Ella could almost forget what had passed between them. In fact, it was the perfect way into her panties. This was only going to make absolutely everything worse. Recrimination stabbed her in the gut. She gave his shoulders a shove. “We did not just do that again!”
Crosby’s head popped up, his grin typically mischievous. “I hear your indignation and return it with a renewed sense of rage for my total impulsiveness.”
Ella grimaced, ashamed she was so damn weak. “You’re not at all sorry you bagged me.”
“Why, no. No, I’m not. I don’t know why you have to be. It’s harshing my afterglow,” he teased, nuzzling her neck. “But I do have to use the facilities. So I’ll remind you to keep your nursing and all your recriminations to yourself. It’s bad for the patient’s self-esteem.” He plopped a kiss on her cheek, sat up and moved off her, rising to head toward the bathroom.
Ella closed her eyes, shutting out the image of a rounded, sculpted ass attached to thick thighs riddled with sinew. Pulling a pillow to her chest, she came to a decision.
She loved Crosby Nash—still.
But he couldn’t stay here anymore. Her self-respect and her will to keep her hands off him were fading. Had faded.
Maybe she could talk her BFF Lola into hiding him at her place, with her own occasional check-ins?
A loud crash startled her from her misery and had her bolting from the couch and running for the bathroom door.
She knocked on it with her knuckles. “Crosby? You okay in there? You’re holding up my nighttime ritual. If I don’t moisturize, I flake from all the shifting back and forth. Hazard of the were,” she joked, hoping to keep things light when she felt anything but.
No answer. She tried the doorknob, only to find it locked.
Concern welled in her while her stomach lurched. “Crosby!” Ella cocked her ear and still heard nothing. Yet her nose picked up the scent of fresh air—and blood.
Crosby’s blood.
Positioning her shoulder at the door, she rammed into the solid wood, wincing when pieces of it splintered and flew in the air in every direction.
She fell into the bathroom. tripped over Crosby’s clothes and crashed soundly into the edge of the pedestal sink, where something caught her eye. She looked up and winced.
Just to the left of her sink was a window.
Was being the operative word.
Now it was just a hole in the wall.
A big, gaping hole with tufts of black wolf hair clinging to the sharp edges of broken glass.
Hoo boy.
Amnesiac werewolf on the loose.
Were there Amber Alerts for that?
Chapter Five
Her paws scraped the uneven dirt floor of the woods behind her house with frantic rasps, the broken limbs and fallen leaves scattering in the wake of her mad dash to find Crosby. Her heart crashed against her ribs even as her nose lifted to the chilled wind for any hint of a scent of her AWOL werewolf.
Ella’s eyes darted to her right, peering through the thick trees and noting the few houses with lights on that dotted the woods.
Fear coiled in her belly as Crosby’s scent came and went, drifting away like wisps of disappearing smoke. Another snort and the scent of blood lodged in her sensitive nose.
Oh God. What if Crosby’d crossed over into human territory in his were-form? The pack owned much of the surrounding land in Rockmont, and some wildlife laws protected it and the pack from hunters. But that land bordered a totally human patch of woods and a totally all-human town. There were no laws that said some unsuspecting human couldn’t shoot your ass if you were in their living space.
Shit, shit, shit! If he were hurt because she was the worst nurse ever, she’d never forgive herself. Ella skidded to a halt in front of a fallen tree, placing a paw on the rotting trunk to regain her focus. She was drawing closer to the forbidden zone. What to do, what to do?
Use your senses, Ella. Breathe. Think.
The wind howled with a ferocious gust, tearing through her thick coat of fur and sweeping up a swirling patch of dead leaves. With it came the scent of more blood. A lot of blood. Crosby’s blood.
It didn’t smell like “here’s a Band-Aid” blood—it smelled like “serious injury” blood.
If Morton was right about anything, he was right about her not wanting Crosby dead.
Fine. She still loved Crosby. The mother-effer. And even if she didn’t want to be married to someone who couldn’t trust her enough to let her in on whatever was going on with Marina Preston, she didn’t want him to be dead. Jesus, please don’t let him be dead.
Her head fell between her shoulder blades while she forced herself to tamp down the rising panic and refocus.
A sharp rustle past the thicket of enormous oak trees just a few hundred feet away had her head up in a shot and her ear cocked. Ella took a tentative step over the tree trunk, avoiding as much of the crunchy debris as possible in order to keep from being heard.
She’d never been this far into the woods before. The pack had strict, fenced-off boundaries and no one crossed them in were-form. Not even reckless, impulsive Ella.
Because a pissed-off pack was scary, yo. While she didn’t mind the occasional adrenaline rush of a good risk, and she didn’t always think things through before she jumped into the deep end of the pool, she’d never disobeyed a rule as severe as the one that said if you tread onto human territory you knew you shouldn’t be treading on, you were on your own.
So, if you ended up dead (because it’d be just her luck that
some human would actually own a gun with silver bullets), sucked to be you.
In human form, she spent lots of time patronizing the towns surrounding Rockmont, but she’d certainly never skipped through the human woods in her human heels to actually see the chain-link boundary everyone in the pack fussed over.
To be so close to it in, of all things, her were-form, after all those scary warnings while growing up, was on par with sneaking into Area 51. Yet, her were-form was the quickest way to find Crosby.
A low growl in the distance gave her pause. It was a warning; a familiar, animalistic warning. One that didn’t stop her, nonetheless. She had to find Crosby and she had to find him before he found his way to a fearful human with a big, big gun.
Morton’s accusation that she was impulsive rang in Ella’s ears when she made a slow jaunt around the perimeter of the trees.
Ella’s pulse raced, her nose assaulted by a multitude of scents mingling with Crosby’s.
With cautious eyes, she got her first glimpse of the edge of pack land as she wove into the monstrous groups of trees.
What the hell was that smell? Sweet baby J. It was a vile pot boiling with fear, desperation and the stench of rotting flesh. And mixed with it all was the hint of a scent so familiar, but it escaped her memory before she was able to place it. It came and went, totally blocked out by the fumes of death.
The crunch of a branch was the only warning she had before she was knocked to the ground with an impact so bone-shattering, she nearly crumbled.
On her feet and ready for battle, Ella fought the yelp forming in the back of her throat at the pain coursing through her hip and gave off her own low growl of warning.
If the wolf responsible for getting her fur covered in dirt was Luke Bocock and his beer-swilling, womanizing, asshat friends, she’d gnaw his tail off all slow and painful-ish.
However, her eyes caught sight of her attacker just as he came in for another bone-crushing tackle. Thankfully, this time she was quicker. She waited until the very last second to dart to the left just as her mammoth, hairy-assed opponent leapt high in the air, lunging at her with a feral growl.
Concentrating on shifting back to her human form before he attacked again, she rolled her neck and allowed the twist of flesh and bones to take over while the offending were recuperated from his slam-dunk into a nearby tree.
She held up a hand just in time to thwart another attack. “Crosby!” she hissed into the darkness. “It’s me, killer—knock it off!”
His abrupt halt at the sound of his name, all paws digging into the hard ground and ears cocked upward, would have made her giggle—except she was naked. There was nothing funny about naked in human form when it was thirty flippin’ degrees out.
She pointed to the ground in front of her, her teeth chattering. “Come here. Please. Now.”
Crosby skulked to her, dark and unkempt, the moonlight shining on his patchy coat. To anyone else, he’d appear pretty intimidating. Intimidating and ugly as hell, but she knew him this way. Yes, he had nightmare properties. His coat was stuck together in clumps of matted fur and his toenails were more like unsheathed talons, true. Not to mention he was a drooler when he got worked up, and personally, it was just a little squicky to watch saliva drip from his razor-sharp teeth.
But he was her drooler, and she knew once she made him understand, there was no need to fear him. And in his were-form, he could still understand everything she said. The beauty of this was, he couldn’t smile all charming-like and make snarky jokes to lighten the severity of the situation.
For the first time, under the pale light of the moon, she saw the blood she’d smelled so acutely. He must have cut himself on the bathroom window. But it didn’t account for the other scents she’d encountered—scents that still filled the almost-starless night. She sniffed one more time to try to grasp the thread of that familiar smell in the bag of disgusting odors. But again, she lost it.
Shaking her head, Ella asked, “You cut yourself. And did you try to jump the fence?”
His eyes instantly went downward in guilt.
“Jesus Christ in a miniskirt, Crosby! You could have been killed.” Naked and freezing, she knelt to look at his right hip. He had a small gash; not too deep, but deep enough that she needed to get him back home and tend to it so he’d heal properly.
Ella wrapped her arms around her chest and bit back a scream of frozen discomfort when she rose. The wind whipped through her tangled hair and slashed at her cheeks.
She bent at the waist and tapped his nose, her lips pursed to keep them from slapping together and chattering. “Incoming lecture, fledgling werewolf. First, if you ever blindside me like that again, I’ll kick your ass,” she whisper-yelled. “Have you seen the size of you? You’re like five times as big as me. You clearly didn’t use your acute sense of smell to identify who I am. Which is something you’d have learned had you waited instead of running off. Now sit down and listen to me. This is your werewolf form, I know. It’s awesome with awesome sauce, right? All those hormones rushing, your testosterone at an all-time high. You just had to run—I get it. It’s a deep, deep need.”
Crosby bowed his wide head in response, dragging one of his meaty paws through the dirt to signify she was right.
She patted him on his bulky head, rubbing between his ears. “Okay, but here’s the thing, Cujo. You’ve wandered into territory that’s forbidden. Just beyond those trees, we’re not protected from the wildlife laws the pack has in place. Which means at any given time, you could feel the sting of a bullet piercing your gargantuan ass. So walk with me, would you? Away from the bad humans who could have guns.” And far away from that smell.
He nudged her hand with his muzzle, the heat of his breath almost welcome in light of the fact she was still naked, naked and, oh yeah, effing naked.
Stepping over the tree trunk, Ella picked up the pace. “So rule number two twenty two bazillion and five in Pack-landia. Never, and I do mean never, come this far into the woods in were-form.”
He huffed his agreement, eyes glowing red in the dark with understanding.
“Now here’s a Nurse Ella rule. Ready, Oh Reckless One?”
His sigh was a Crosby sigh—even in shifter form. Put upon.
Ella plucked at the fur on his back. “Save the eye roll, Crosby Nash. Don’t ever, ever run off like that again without me. Got that? Do you have any idea how tweaked the pack would have been if you’d ended up full of buckshot? I’m supposed to be protecting you. I don’t know what made you do something so irrational as break my bathroom window just to go exploring your wolfie side. And I hope, in all your amnesia, you somehow remember your carpenter skills so you can fix said window, because it’s going to be a mighty cold potty break if you don’t. It would have been just as easy to stroll out the door—with me. We did discuss the onslaught of the shift, didn’t we?”
Crosby reared his head; the snort he omitted blew from his jaws in a puff of condensation.
She tapped her chin with her trembling, icy finger in mock thought. “Yeah, yeah we did. It was over two pounds of bacon, home fries and a T-bone, you caloric nightmare. I told you what to expect of your body, what would trigger it, and yet still you went it alone. For shame, Crosby,” she chastised, hopping quickly from foot to foot to keep warm as they made their way back toward the entry to the woods.
“The shift isn’t something to play around with, especially in your state. I would have talked you through it if you’d given me the chance. I know the surge of hairball-and-gnashing-toothed power is overwhelming—exciting even—but you own it, not the other way around. It’s one of the most crucial lessons you can learn about your metamorphosis. Also, your sense of smell will help you identify other pack members. You know, like me—so I don’t have to shift back in order to prove I’m me and, oh, be naked when it’s thirty fucking degrees out.”
He burrowed up against her hip; pushing into her in what she guessed was his werewolf act of chivalry to warm her.
&nb
sp; Stopping short, Ella made a face at him in all his furred-out glory. “Okay, so here’s the deal. No more solo shifting until your memory comes back. And now, I’m shifting back, too, because I’ll never make the two-plus miles back home like this. You know, naked. Follow me, Crosby, and don’t stray because if you even consider frolicking blissfully through the woods, I might be persuaded to leave you outside on the front porch instead of granting you the splendor of my lavender, mint-green and white guest bedroom. Got it?” She cupped his muzzle, wincing at the saliva on her hand.
He licked her hand with his long tongue.
She made a face at him, using her shoulder to brush strands of mussed hair from her chin. “No sucking up, and it’d do you well to pay attention when I shift, so maybe your next one won’t be so violent. It hurt, didn’t it?”
He flopped down on the ground, placed his nose between his paws and huffed, kicking up loose dirt.
Ella nodded her head. “The first time can be a bitch. If you’d just told me you felt off, I probably would have pegged it and could have talked you through it. It would have hurt less. You’re such a man, Crosby,” she teased, but she couldn’t keep the warmth out of her voice.
At least he could shift again. He’d been without relief for almost two weeks. It could have become unhealthy if his true nature continued to be denied. She’d seen that in her time as a nurse—and it was a lot like watching a J.J. Abrams production. Lots of hair poking out of places you shouldn’t necessarily have hair, and the distortion of your limbs when you were stuck in a shift was, in all honesty, god-awful.
Warding off another violent case of the shivers, Ella reached her arms upward, clenching her fingers together and cracking them. “Now here’s the key to the shift, Crosby. It’s not just about relaxing. It’s about letting it happen rather than forcing it to happen, or fighting if it does. Once you get the hang of it, it’s simple and you can control it at will. Just think about freeing yourself from your human constraints by clearing your mind and visualizing your arm or your leg.”
Honey,I Shrunk the Werewolf Page 6
