Howl at the Moon

by Christine Warren

  Her fingers teased the hard muscles beneath them and slid inward to trace the seam running up the inside of his thigh. Suddenly those muscles became even harder.

  "I thought I'd let you choose," he ground out, and she noticed his knuckles had gone white around the steering wheel.

  Following the seam up and up, she slid her hand between his legs to cup him intimately. She heard him curse, but her attention was focused on what she was doing. Namely, torturing him. It was the least he deserved.

  "I know a great little place near the Flatiron," she said absently, and gave him an address. She curled her fingers and gently squeezed. "Small, informal. Very private."

  He tore one hand from the wheel and clamped it over hers, stilling her movements. "If you don't stop teasing me, you'll be lucky to eat before lunchtime tomorrow."

  She laughed quietly. "Don't be such a baby. I thought the army was supposed to teach you to test your limits and bear up under physical strain."

  "Being tortured by little Lupine witches who don't know any better than to tease hungry soldiers was not part of the Ranger Course."

  "How disappointing." She shifted her hand to stroke. "Well, I guess you'll just have to tough it out."

  The muscle in his jaw jumped, and Sam felt the shift as he stepped on the accelerator. "And you'll just have to do the same when I bend you over our table and fuck you in front of the rest of the patrons."

  "You know, I'm pretty sure that's illegal. Not to mention slightly depraved."

  "Do you really think I'm in the position to care?"

  She pursed her lips to keep from grinning. "I didn't think you minded the position you were in, but if there's another one you'd prefer…"

  He described one to her, graphically, that had her thighs clenching together and her breath choking to a stop in her throat. Her fingers trembled against him, and she knew he had to feel that. He didn't bother to gloat, just pulled to the curb in front of the address she'd given him and cut the engine.

  "This isn't a restaurant," he said, his breathing harsh and uneven. His hand on hers no longer tried to pry her away but pressed her closer as he ground against her.

  She shook her head. "No, it isn't. Actually, it's my apartment building. But if you're really hungry, we can find a place around here to eat. There's a good Italian restaurant just a couple of blocks away."

  "You have thirty seconds to get wherever you want to be when I take you. Assuming you'd rather it wasn't right here in the car in front of God and all your neighbors."

  Sam didn't waste any time arguing. She released her seat belt and burst out of the car, not even bothering to slam the door behind her. Noah's expression had told her he was deadly serious.

  As a Lupine, she was fast, but she'd barely turned the key in her lock when Noah appeared behind her and pressed her up against her apartment door. Panting, she got the damned thing open and stumbled inside. She'd probably have landed in a heap halfway across the room if Noah hadn't grabbed her and carried her to the floor right inside the door.

  She vaguely heard the sound of the door catching and had just enough presence of mind to be grateful that Noah must have kicked it shut, because she was way too far gone to have thought of it. Her senses had scattered the minute his mouth closed on hers, claiming, possessing, stealing her breath and her thoughts and leaving her nothing but a trembling, aching need. She didn't even grunt when she landed on the hardwood floor, barely softened by the braided cotton rug that covered the entry space. It didn't matter. She was already busy shredding Noah's blue-striped dress shirt into ragged little pieces and scattering them on the carpet around them. She needed to touch him, to feel his smooth, taut skin beneath her hands, her mouth, her body.

  But beneath her didn't seem to be where Noah wanted to be just then. Tearing his mouth from hers, he grabbed her hands and twisted, forcing her onto her stomach with himself kneeling above her. She opened her mouth to protest that she wanted to be able to touch him, but the sound died in a whimper when he grabbed the collar of her silky baby-doll top and ripped it in half. His teeth followed the line of the tear, scraping down her spine with furious greed. After that, she didn't think about protests. All she thought about was his mouth, his hands, and his body as he used all three to drive her out of her mind.

  His hands clamped down on her hips and yanked them up, bringing her off her belly and onto her knees. She braced her hands against the rug to steady herself, while his fingers darted around, found the fastenings on her jeans, and roughly opened them. The heavy fabric slid away, taking her panties with it, and she had a fleeting thought about the uselessness of wearing sexy underwear around this man, since he never seemed to slow down long enough to see it.

  He shoved her jeans down to her knees and left them there, his hands too busy sliding over the smooth, bare skin of her hips and ass to worry about finishing the job. The shreds of her top had already fluttered down to pool around her wrists and hands, and a movement so fast she had honestly missed it had opened her bra and sent it to the floor as well.

  Confined by her clothing shackling her wrists and knees, Sam knelt before him and acknowledged helplessly that he'd managed to awake every instinct she had with this position. On her knees, head bowed, hips raised to his touch, she felt every fiber of her Lupine self stirring and purring in pleasure. Every nerve in her body tingled, stretching toward him. The feel of his hands stroking her side, her flanks, reaching beneath her to cup and knead her breasts, had her struggling to breathe through the clenching fist of her arousal. Goddess, if he didn't take her soon, she would die.

  When his hand glided over the smooth curve of her ass and followed the crease to the aching need between her legs, she decided she might die anyway. One long, lean finger circled her opening, teasing and testing before it drew back and plunged in deep. She threw up her head and cried out, her back arching and her whole body clenching in pleasure. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly.

  "Please," she whimpered, her own voice sounding weak and unfamiliar in her ears. "Now."

  She heard a curse as his hand slipped from between her legs, and she couldn't suppress a moan at the loss of his touch. Dimly over the roaring in her ears, she heard the hiss of metal against metal, and then her entire reality condensed to the heart-stopping instant when he plunged full-length inside her.

  She screamed. There was no other word for it. The cry tore from her throat, high and wild, and her arms buckled beneath her, sending her shoulders crashing to the floor. The shift lifted her hips higher against him, and the next thrust took him even deeper, bringing another cry from both their mouths. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips with bruising force, and Sam could have cared less. The only thing that mattered was the rough, steady rhythm of his body sliding deeply and endlessly into hers.

  The constriction of her jeans prevented her from parting her legs, and she whimpered in frustration. She felt almost helpless, unable to control the speed or depth or force of his thrusts. All she could do was kneel beneath him and tremble, accepting him and trusting him to drive her closer and closer to the edge of completion.

  Since she couldn't spread her legs to urge him on, she had to content herself with arching her back, increasing the tilt of her hips and allowing him another fraction deeper. Breathlessly she realized that allowing had very little to do with it.

  He took her as if she belonged to him, and not even in her subconscious mind could she fight the claiming. In her mind and her heart, she felt like his.

  Suddenly she couldn't bear the separation between them. She levered herself up with her forearms, but Noah was already there. His hands left her hips, and he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her into his embrace. He pressed her back against him until she felt every inch of his smooth, muscled chest along her back. One arm wrapped around her waist, his hand clamped on the opposite hip to hold her steady as he rocked endlessly into her. The other arm circled her body from ribs to shoulder, his forearm nestled between her breasts as he cradled her
to him. She felt claimed and protected and cherished, and she lifted her own arms up and back to close around his neck.

  The hand on her hip firmed, and he rocked deeper within her, every nudge pushing against her heart. Helpless to move, she did the only thing she could and welcomed him with the warm, tight clasp of her body. She felt the groan ramble up from his chest before it escaped his lips and echoed it with a breathless cry. Her head fell back against his shoulder. As she turned, her lashes parted just far enough to see the taut, intent, absorbed expression on his face. His eyes locked with hers, and their arms tightened around each other in perfect unison.

  "Noah," she whispered, her eyes drifting shut as he shifted to rub the faintly stubbled skin of his cheek against hers. It was a prayer, a blessing, a benediction. Her entire world had distilled down to this moment, to this man, and to the way he filled her heart even as he filled her body.

  "Samantha." His head bowed, his lips pressing against the smooth, hot skin of her shoulder. He rocked forward and stilled, holding himself high and deep within her. "Samantha mine."

  Her heart leapt and her body dissolved and the first words in her heart were the last ones on her lips. "Noah mine."

  He shuddered, and she gasped, and they tumbled together headlong over the cliff.

  * * *

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When Noah Baker staked a claim to something, he meant it. Sam figured that out about halfway through the half hour it took to extricate herself from his arms on Sunday afternoon.

  Her arguments that she had to be at the club by three for a special function that would last well past eleven that night seemed to make no impression. Only the threat of locking herself into a chastity belt before she came home seemed to get his attention, and then he grumbled the entire time it took for him to follow her into the shower and ensure she used up her entire hot-water supply while getting remarkably little done in the way of bathing. By the end, she had to shampoo and rinse while her teeth chattered and he went whistling into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

  She found him standing at the counter, sipping from a mug and flipping through her copy of the Times. He must have run down to her box and picked it up while she tried to defrost.

  He looked up at her entrance, taking in the rosy sheen of her skin and the determinedly un-seductive black suit, and raised an eyebrow. "You didn't mention you'd be working yesterday."

  She didn't answer until she had her own mug of coffee and had gingerly taken a seat at the small table. "It's a fund-raiser for next year's campaign to reelect the Other representative to the president's Committee on Cultural Education. I was going to tell you about it on Friday, but I didn't see you. And somehow I got distracted when you picked me up last night."

  He made a humming noise and his lips twitched. "Right. I suppose you're going to tell me I distracted you."

  "Ya think?"

  "I like to think the distraction was mutual." He set his coffee on the table and leaned down to kiss her, for once more sweet than seductive. "What time did you say you'd be done tonight?"

  She shrugged, trying not to let herself get distracted all over again by the powerful grace with which he lowered himself to the chair opposite her. "The party officially runs from six thirty to ten, but by the time people actually clear out and we get things set to rights, I'll probably be looking at somewhere around midnight."

  "I wanted to offer a suggestion."

  "What kind of a suggestion?"

  He laughed. "Nothing indecent, so you can stop looking at me with horrified fascination. Even I have to rest sometimes."

  Sam snorted. From what she'd seen so far, those times appeared to be few and far between.

  "Since you'll be finishing up late," he continued, "I thought you might want to pack a bag. It's a much shorter commute to walk up the stairs to my suite when the party's over than it is to come all the way back here."

  Of course, she wanted to jump up and shout, "Yes!" but these things required a bit more consideration than that. She knew perfectly well that Noah found her attractive and he enjoyed sleeping with her, but she wasn't sure he understood what it would mean if she settled down in his bedroom for the night right under Graham's nose. On Thursday, she'd waited until Graham had gone for the night, not just next door but out to dinner with Missy, before she'd snuck upstairs to seduce Noah. Tonight she wouldn't get that chance. As the host of the party, Graham would be there from beginning to end. If she went to Noah's room, Graham would know about it immediately. He might have been forced to acknowledge several years ago that Sam was an adult capable of making her own decisions about relationships, but that didn't mean he wanted to witness them. If he knew she and Noah were sleeping together at the club, he'd take that as a declaration of something a bit more serious than she thought Noah intended.

  "I don't know if that's really the best idea."

  She liked that he didn't get upset or jump to any conclusions. He just asked, "Why? I thought we were both enjoying ourselves."

  "We are. I mean, I am. I just… My family was fine with the idea of us dating, but I can assure you they wouldn't have been so calm if they'd known where we ended up last night."

  "On the living room floor?"

  "And Graham is family, too. He might be more like a third cousin, but he is a cousin. And he's the Alpha besides. I'm just not sure that the idea of parading the fact that we're sleeping together under his nose is the best course of action."

  "Do you want us to lie to him?"

  Noah's tone of voice told her what he thought of that idea. She hurried to shake her head. "No, that isn't what I meant. I'm not saying I'm ashamed that we're involved. That's got nothing to do with it. It's just that…" She sighed. "In Graham's mind, I'm under his care on three levels. I'm an employee, I'm pack, and I'm family. It's like a triple whammy of protectiveness. He knows I'm old enough to decide who to date, but to have an affair under his roof would mean something to him that it might not mean to either of us."

  He leaned back in his chair, his expression inscrutable. "What would it mean to him?"

  "Something more than just an affair. What we do here is out of sight and out of mind. What we do at his club is a different story."

  "You make it sound like 'an affair' is a pretty term for getting our rocks off together."

  "That's not what I meant. I just meant that to Graham it would mean that this is leading somewhere. An affair is short-term. It has an expiration date. Graham would be thinking about something… more permanent."

  "What makes you think it's not any more than an affair?"

  She froze, one hand on her mug. It took the space of several speeding heartbeats for her to catch her breath. "Is it?"

  "Whatever it is, I think it's more than we're going to settle in the next," he glanced at his watch, "fifteen minutes. But as far as I'm concerned, this is already more than an affair. We can talk about how much more tonight." He stood and drained his mug. He even rinsed it out and placed it in the drain rack. "Come on, finish your coffee. I'll drive us back to the club and let you get back to work. That trip to Jersey yesterday put me behind on my paperwork."

  She took the hand he held out and let him lift her to her feet. He snagged the mug out of her hand and set it aside; then he reached out and cupped her chin in his palm. He tilted her chin up to face him, holding her gaze for a long moment.

  She had to fight the instinctive urge to lower her eyes in recognition of his dominance in their own private hierarchy. She saw his mouth soften, but before she could wonder if his surprising abilities extended to reading her mind, he lowered his head and kissed her thoroughly. For several minutes she thought about nothing at all except the taste of him and the desire to use their kiss to demonstrate how tied up in him she had already become.

  When he raised his head, both of them were breathing more heavily and his hazel eyes were heavy lidded and satisfied. He reached down to pat her bottom affectionately. "Go get your bag, or you'll be late."

&nbs
p; She reflected, once he'd seated her in the car and started the engine with her having no recollection of even leaving her kitchen, that a girl had to be wary of a man who could scramble her wits so effectively. If she wasn't careful, her heart would be irrevocably gone before she even realized.

  With great deliberateness, she refrained from doing a spot check. She'd be better off not knowing.

  As Sam had predicted, the party was still going at twenty after ten. That was when she slipped away to her office to check her e-mail. She'd had her cell phone with her all night in the bag she'd carried with her specifically for that purpose, and Annie hadn't called. Sam had her fingers crossed that Annie had been too chicken and had e-mailed instead. She clicked the send/receive button on her mail program three times in rapid succession before she gave up hope. Annie was still nowhere to be seen.

  Damn it, if she'd gone to all the trouble of sneaking away from work for something, it should at least have been to dart upstairs and spend a few irresistibly frustrating minutes sexually harassing Noah before diving back into the fray. Checking up on her disappearing, maddening friend did not make an acceptable alternative. Especially when said friend hadn't even had the courtesy to check in.

  Grimly Sam shut down the computer. She'd give Annie until midnight. After that, she had to tell Graham. And hope he didn't tear her liver out for waiting so long.

  A glance at her watch put the countdown at ninety minutes. Until the go hour, she'd have to continue playing nice, doing her job, coordinating with Richards, supervising the kitchen and waitstaff, and generally pretending her palms didn't itch with the urge to wrap around her best friend's throat and start squeezing.

  Itchy palms made Sam think about Noah, whom she'd left sitting at the desk in the living area of his suite, and she indulged in a fit of the grumps that she'd have to leave him there longer than she'd anticipated. She'd told him not to wait up for her, but at the time she hadn't anticipated that she'd have to get through a confrontation with the Alpha before she got to crawl in next to Noah and wake him up.