So I Married a Werewolf (Entangled Covet)

by Miller, Kristin

  She pushed the bimbos from her mind as his tongue grazed her lips. She opened her mouth and welcomed him in. He tasted like tequila mixed with something heady and tantalizingly male. A mixture that was as dizzying as it was electrifying.

  He pulled back, though his hand remained on the nape of her neck.

  “Faith.” His voice low and rough, rumbling through her ears. “Friends don’t kiss like that.”

  “Let me show you what else they don’t do.” She swiped her tongue across his lips, a quick flick that made his pupils widen with hunger.

  One second they were side-by-side and the next, he’d flipped her onto her back and pinned her beneath him. She was trapped in the cage of his muscular body, though she wouldn’t want to escape if she could. He was completely overwhelming. Alpha to the extreme. She’d wanted this, had just been daydreaming about what this would feel like. She had to feel him, to see those tattoos that traveled across his chest.

  Grazing her hand over the ridge of his pants, Faith slipped her fingers beneath his shirt and touched skin. His abs were hot, a sheath of silky skin over bulging steel ridges. She peeled the shirt over his head and raked her nails over his chest muscles, tracing the wings of a white hawk painted across his right side.

  It was beautiful.

  As her fingers caressed the hawk’s wings, he sucked in a deep breath that sounded like a hiss. He bent down to catch her mouth. His tongue flew past her lips, searching, claiming. The kiss screamed “possession.” As she whimpered into him, he moaned and crushed his hips against hers.

  He wanted this, wanted her.

  As if he read her mind, he said, “Yes.”

  Quivering, she reached up and kissed him again. This time her tongue went deep, twirling along his. Low in her belly, butterflies twisted and turned and jumbled together.

  “Friends can make the best lovers, you know.” She grabbed hold of the bottom of her sweater, rose up, and lifted it from her torso. When she fell back against the bed, her breasts barely covered by a white lace bra, Carter groaned, fisting the pillow on either side of her head.

  “You can touch if you want.” Oh, the alcohol was really setting in now. “Carter, what’s the matter?”

  Although it didn’t make any sense at all, he stared at her as if she were a stranger to him. As if he was struggling to catalog the features of her face, trying to grasp some form of recognition. His color changed. His cheeks were beet red, the vein on his forehead straining, his shoulders flexing and twitching from bearing his weight over her.

  “What is it?”

  “Can’t.” His hungry gaze lowered to her bra. “We have to stop.”

  No, he couldn’t stop. Not when they were tangled in silk sheets, the smell of roses on the air—albeit mixed with splashes of tequila—with the view of twinkling lights in the harbor. She was practically quivering with want, on the verge of something really freaking great. She was damp between her legs and about to beg him to take the ache away.

  He put one hand on her shoulder to hold her in place. “We have to…stop. We do.”

  “No, we don’t.” Feeling feisty, she pulled out all the stops. “We’re married. By God’s law, we can do this whenever we want.”

  “We can’t do this,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “We shouldn’t.”

  She giggled, letting her fingers dance down his abs to the ridge of his jeans. “Oh, I think we can and we should. Do you need another drink to help you relax?”

  “This is a mistake.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “I don’t want this.” He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching wildly. “I don’t want…”

  Ice water shot through her veins.

  The serial dater didn’t want her. That’s what he was going to say. He didn’t need to finish. She could read the horrible words all over his face. The guy who had no problems picking up and dumping women like yesterday’s newspapers didn’t want to sleep with her. He didn’t seem to have a problem before she stripped out of her sweater.

  He saw something he didn’t like.

  Wonderful. The perfect end to a perfect day. She should’ve ditched the minibar chocolate and opted for rabbit food instead.

  “I should have known all along. I’ve seen the other women you dated, and I knew I wasn’t like them.” She dragged her sweater over her chest, covering her breasts, and wiggled out from beneath him. “Take the damn bed. You’ve earned it. I’m sleeping in the tub.”

  “Faith, don’t be—”

  But it was too late. She ripped every cover off the mattress, trapped a pillow against her body, and stormed into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Carter tossed and turned, kicking the sheets off the bed. He was a live wire, frustration and indecision taking turns jolting through his system. His bride had locked herself in the bathroom more than an hour ago. Judging from the silence, she’d fallen asleep on the floor.

  Officially the worst wedding night in matrimonial history.

  It was his wedding night, for Alpha’s sake!

  She wasn’t really his bride, and it wasn’t really their wedding night, so the reality shouldn’t have weighed on him so heavily, but it did.

  He’d handled the situation piss-poorly, but if she knew he’d pulled away for her benefit, she wouldn’t have been angry. If he’d let himself go, and had given in to the lust spiraling in his core, things would’ve gotten too complicated too quickly.

  I don’t want this.

  Why’d he say it that way?

  On a groan, Carter smacked himself in the forehead and scrubbed his fingers through his hair.

  Of course he wanted her. Judging by the massive, aching erection pitching the sheets, he still did. But damn it, he couldn’t spoil what they had.

  She was one of his best friends.

  He drew his feet over the side of the bed, sat up, and stared at the slice of black space beneath the bathroom door. She was right there. Not twenty feet away.

  Go to her.

  His hands ached to feel her again, his mouth to brush against hers. She was like a volcano, hotter than he’d expected, and had melted his defenses. She’d erupted beneath his touch, lighting him on fire in a way he’d never known.

  He hadn’t been expecting that.

  How was it possible that Faith was a vixen in bed? There was chemistry between them. Undeniable, gut-clenching chemistry, but he couldn’t get involved.

  Things were too complicated, and they’d only get worse if he didn’t stay focused on what they were doing here in the first place.

  He had serious trust issues with the opposite sex, and he and Faith were friends. He actually enjoyed her company. If they’d skipped down the yellow orgasmic road, he knew where they’d be come morning. He’d turn into the same guy he always did when relationships threatened to spill over to the next level: controlling, possessive, and constantly thinking his girlfriend was going to cheat on him.

  Thank you, cheating first wife.

  He’d be possessive over whom Faith went out with and whom she talked to. He’d feel more of a claim to her than he should. His trust issues would destroy their friendship. It was inevitable. It’d happened before, and it would happen again.

  As he rested his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand, a soft sound escaped the bathroom.

  Was she crying?

  He stood and shuffled to the door. He reached for the handle. And stopped as a whimper hit his ears. He clenched his hand into a fist and held it to the door.

  Knock. Call her name. Ask if she’s okay. Don’t be an asshole.

  Swallowing hard, Carter put his forehead to the door and listened.

  More whimpers. Tears falling to the tile floor. His stomach soured with regret. He couldn’t fix this. No matter what he did, he was screwed. Faith didn’t understand. It’s not that he didn’t want her…he didn’t want to spoil what they had.

  An overwhelming sense of dread snaked around his hea
rt and squeezed. He blew out a soft breath and backed away from the door. Hands clenched into fists and a hole burning in the back of his throat, Carter dumped himself onto the bed and covered his head with a pillow.

  …

  “Room Service!” Two muffled knocks rattled in the distance. “Hello? Mr. and Mrs. Griffin?”

  Rousing from her slumber, Faith rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes. It took her a few seconds to remember why she was in the bathroom, curled into the Jacuzzi tub.

  Carter.

  Let him answer the door.

  Another round of knocks pounded against her skull. Not really, but they might as well have. She tried to roll out of the tub, but slipped, falling to the floor in a tangled heap of bedsheets. Fighting to her feet, she cracked the door and peeked into the suite.

  Carter was gone.

  Tiptoeing out, she checked the bed, the floor, beneath the table. Nothing.

  “Room service for Mr. and Mrs. Carter Griffin!” the annoying voice called again. “I have a breakfast spread for the newlyweds, courtesy of the Elopement Package.”

  “Newlyweds, my ass.” She was grouchy, but had every right. She’d thrown herself at Carter and had been rejected in the most embarrassing way. Couldn’t he have told her he wasn’t interested before she stripped? Would’ve saved her some dignity. “I’m coming!”

  She pulled open the door. A round man pushing a silver cart swept inside, smiling much too eagerly for the hour. He lifted the silver lids on a few dishes, revealing eggs, bacon, sausage, and pancakes. Breakfast fit for a king and his queen. Too bad she and Carter weren’t either of those things. They were more like the court jester and his fat, fake mistress. Okay, that wasn’t close either. She wasn’t fat, just…curvy.

  After she tipped the round man and he left the room, Faith noticed a small note card folded on the table near the bathroom door.

  She picked it up and read:

  Faith,

  I went on the adventure tour alone. I’ll tell the others that you had a hangover and are resting today. Sorry about the way things went down last night.

  C.

  Sorry? The hell he was.

  She snatched a piece of bacon off the tray, chomped off the tip, and stared out over the harbor. He went on the adventure tour alone. She didn’t really want to go anyway, she thought, shoving the rest of the bacon strip into her mouth.

  But if she stayed in, that would mean she’d be burying her head in the sand. Carter wouldn’t be able to avoid her that easily. She downright refused to cower in the shadows while he went out on some sort of adventure with his colleagues.

  She may’ve been a chocoholic and fifteen pounds—okay, twenty…five—pounds overweight, but she was no coward.

  A foreign emotion surged through her veins: confidence.

  If Carter didn’t want her and didn’t think she was attractive, that was fine. That didn’t mean there wasn’t someone out there for her. How many brides thought of other men and future husbands the day after they got married? Probably not many, but under the circumstances, why shouldn’t she? Their marriage was a sham. Why hold out for Carter when he’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want her?

  She couldn’t be like the other bimbos he dated—she’d tried at the Owenses’ party and had seriously botched the job—but she could be a better version of herself. One that deserved a man who loved her and thought she was beautiful, with her sweet tooth, soft hips, plain clothes, and all.

  From here on out, she’d be the best damned version of Faith she could be.

  Ten minutes later, she was dressed in jeans, a tight red sweater she’d picked up while shopping for the wedding ensemble yesterday—turned out it was easier to find clothes fit for a harlot than a bride—and tall boots. She fluffed her hair and teased the back until her comb got stuck. She lined her eyes heavier than normal, and was surprised to find that it emphasized their almond shape. She applied pink gloss on her lips, mashed them together, and smiled into the mirror at the final result.

  She popped open her computer, replied to comments on Have a Little Faith, and updated a few sidebar widgets in record time. She thought about making a note about Victoria…maybe later today she’d sidle over to a few pet stores and check their stock.

  She closed her laptop and double-checked her appearance in the mirror.

  Good to go.

  Once in the lobby, she approached the front desk. A six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered, floppy-haired concierge in his thirties grinned and looked up from his Muscle & Fitness magazine.

  “Excuse me,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “There was a big group of people gathered in the lobby at dawn going on some kind of adventure tour. Did you happen to see them?”

  “You’re talking about the Seattle police force staying with us?”

  Policing jerks. “That’s them.”

  “You missed them by about fifteen minutes.”

  “Do you know where they were headed?”

  “I do, actually. I suggested the trip.” He turned away from her and rummaged through a stack of glossy pamphlets.

  “I’d like to join them, if I could. Think that’s possible?”

  “No prob,” he said, placing a pamphlet on the counter and flattening it in front of her.

  Her stomach dropped as he pointed to the graphic on the center page. “They’re doing this?”

  “Need a ride?”

  She nodded. “And a barf bag.”

  …

  After enduring a forty-five-minute drive to Sooke Potholes Provincial Park and another twenty-minute ride on all-terrain vehicles through the forest, Carter felt no better about the way things had ended last night. He stood on a platform above the trees, staring out over two suspension bridges and eight zip lines of different lengths, wondering if he’d done the right thing. He should’ve woken her up this morning. Knocked on the bathroom door to let her know he was leaving. For the last fifteen minutes, everyone had milled about, getting ready for the big plunge, oblivious to the war raging inside him.

  He’d royally screwed over his wife…by not screwing her the way he should have. The way he truly wanted to.

  “This is about letting go and having fun,” the captain said as the tour people suited him up with a seat harness and climbing helmet. “Only don’t let go.” He laughed, tugging on the rope attaching him to the line above his head. “See you on the other side!”

  The tour guide pushed him from behind and he was off, soaring over the tops of the trees. Once out of sight, the captain roared, sending birds scattering from the bushy green canopies.

  “Next!” the tour guide said. “You, sir.”

  The guides suited up eight high-ranking officials and their mates, and each of them soared through the trees, some following the captain, others disappearing between trees in opposite directions. Mr. and Mrs. Owens were some of the few left to go. They huddled near the corner of the platform, fidgeting with their harnesses.

  “Sorry your wife couldn’t make it,” Lieutenant Marks said from beside him. The guy was five hundred years old and just over two hundred pounds, barely making the height and weight requirements for the ride. The helmet on his head looked more like a yarmulke than a piece of protective equipment. “Tell her she was missed.”

  “I will.” Because she was. “We simply had too much fun celebrating our wedding last night.”

  “Atta boy.” The lieutenant patted Carter on the shoulder. “Wait, isn’t that her?”

  Carter turned. Below them, a four-wheeler skidded to a stop. The driver wore a motocross helmet etched with a glowing green skull-and-crossbones on the top. Faith straddled the quad behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist.

  “Thanks for the ride!” she hollered as she dismounted. She handed him the helmet, which he locked to the bar on the back of the four-wheeler. “I’ll let you know how it goes when I get back tonight.”

  Tonight?

  She was talking to this guy like she knew him. Like she
was comfortable with him. Carter growled low in his belly. The lieutenant spun on his heel and attached his line to the next available hook.

  Faith climbed the stairs and met Carter on the tower. Her hair was windblown, her cheeks flushed pink. And her sweater! It was skintight, hugging her breasts. He’d gotten so used to seeing her in baggy clothes, the tightness of the sweater shocked him.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she said, reaching on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. His skin buzzed. “I’m feeling so much better than I did this morning.”

  “I’m glad.” He smiled tightly. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “Of course I am.” She studied the lines. “Rick and I had a great talk on the way over. He calmed me down about this whole thing.”

  “Rick?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She picked up a helmet and fitted it on her head. On anyone else, it would’ve looked dorky as hell. Faith somehow made helmets fashionable…and adorable. “Rick’s the concierge from the hotel.”

  His palms itched. “The concierge drove you all the way out here?”

  She pulled down the bottom of her sweater, emphasizing the plumpness of her breasts. “Wasn’t that nice of him?”

  “Sure was.” Sure wanted to break his neck, too. “Did he hit on you?” The words tumbled out before he could catch them.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe a little.” She shrugged shyly. “Just because you don’t find me attractive doesn’t mean others don’t.”

  “Of course you’re—he shouldn’t be—others…” His tongue tied itself into a gigantic knot. “You think I don’t find you attractive?”

  “I’m over the games, Carter, and I’m ready to fly.”

  The guide suited her up, tugged on the buckles, and adjusted the strap around her hips.

  Mrs. Owens made her way over and embraced Faith in a hug. “Look at you, dear! You always look so spectacular!” She held Faith’s hand in hers and raised it so that Faith could do a twirl. “You’ve got a dream figure, darling! A perfect hourglass!”

  Carter froze, taken aback by Mrs. Owens’s outpouring of flattery. Faith looked hot, he couldn’t deny. But she didn’t always look this way. Back at home, she dressed in sweats and black stretchy pants paired with bulky sweatshirts.