by Dunbar, Natalie; Glass, Seressia; Jeffries, J. M. ; Banks, L. A.
Frantic, she began pressing buttons on the monitors trying to locate him. If he started some action in her shop tonight without telling her, it would be on, buddy! But she suddenly relaxed when she saw him leaving the Voodoo Café with the small restaurant’s signature food parcel. Rolling her shoulders, she smoothed the baby-fine hair that was standing up on the nape of her neck.
“Better not,” she muttered, and went back to intently watching the three guests that concerned her.
A knock at the door almost made her jump out of her skin. She stood, for a second not sure why, until she smelled him… along with a burger.
“Yeah, what do you want?” she called out in a surly tone, cocked her head, and closed her eyes, letting out an impatient breath when he didn’t answer.
“Maverick, whatduya want?”
“I was hungry, ordered a burger before I sat down at the tables, and figured you might want one, too. I just picked it up—you want it now, or ya wanna wait till it gets cold?”
She strode across the room, unlocked the door and flung it open. “I’m working.”
“I know, but are you hungry?”
Exasperated, she moved to let him in and slammed the door shut behind him. The smell of the food, along with the tantalizing smell of him, only stoked her ire. She locked the door.
Ignoring her outburst, he loped over to her desk and pulled a Styrofoam box out of the bag, set it down slowly and backed away. “Bloody, cheese, no onions, hot sauce, and fries on the side.” He looked at her, and then extracted two root beers from the bag and held out one for her. “Something to wash it down.”
Her stomach did flip-flops as she stalked over to him, snatched a pop bottle, and muttered, “Thanks.”
It took everything within her to move around him and go to her desk, but she refused to immediately tear into the box of grub. No. She focused her gaze on a monitor while the delicious scent of near raw, flame-seared beef wafted up her nose. Her hands were practically shaking as she angrily twisted off the pop cap, threw her head back, and guzzled half the bottle.
He had to sit before he fell down. Rather than look like a complete idiot, he grabbed a nearby chair, turned it around backwards, and sat with a thud. It was either scarf down the burger or make a lunge for her. Opting for the sane choice, he set his root beer on an adjacent desk as calmly as possible and ripped open the bag to get his container of food. The huge burger was gone in three wolfing bites; albeit, he was slightly humiliated that he was practically slobbering on himself in front of her, but kept his expression nonchalant as he licked away the remnants of ketchup from his mouth… it would have been so nice if she had done that.
“You’re not gonna eat?”
“In a bit,” she said with attitude, not looking at him.
“Hey, if you don’t want it…”
She looked at him and opened the box lid, irises holding a slightly glowing dare.
“My bad,” he said, chuckling and began scoffing down his fries. “All a brother was trying to say was… if you weren’t hungry don’t let good grub go to waste.”
“Thank you,” she said after a moment, and finally picked up the burger, sniffed it, then bit into it hard.
The look on her face made him stop chewing. Her eyes had crossed beneath her lids, and the soft moan she released almost made him stand. But he had to be cool. Had to tell her that Malcolm was gonna sock her budget hard for a little undercover work that had to be done the way it had to be done. The call went down without resistance while he was ordering the burger. Once he’d explained Ecstasy’s plan, all Malcolm had said was, “Damn… do it.”
But he wanted that news to come from him, not Malcolm, and knew Laurel would shift and go for his throat when she heard it… no love-play in the lunge at all. The burger had been a peace offering, although he’d have brought her a dripping steak, if she’d let him.
“See those three guys at poker two,” Butch said, trying hard to keep his focus as he watched Laurel eat. “Earlier, three weak alphas were sitting where they are now.”
“I know,” she mumbled through a bite. “Where are they? That’s what I wanna know.”
There was no good way to answer her legitimate question. “Cutter, Fang, and Mad Dawg usually don’t show themselves around here,” he said, choosing his words with care. “Don’t you think it’s mighty coincidental that they’re here now… during a big tournament that starts tonight and about to run all week?”
“Yeah,” she said, polishing off the burger, and washing down the last swallow with her pop. “But there’s a lot of new faces here just for the tourney. That could be a sign, but might not be. But we do need to watch them.”
He’d heard half of what she said as he watched the liquid slide down her throat, the way it moved under her soft skin as she tipped her head back, spilling a thick wash of brunette hair over her shoulders. Her jacket was on the chair, the low bluish lights in the room from the monitors practically made her sheer blouse see-through… the lace beneath it caught his attention and sent his line of vision over her breasts. He had to close his eyes as his gaze slid over her tight nipples. Good Lord, he remembered her in his arms, every agonizing moment.
She glimpsed him from the corner of her eye and nearly choked on her pop when his eyelids became heavy, and he slightly turned his head away. This calm, discreet man was not the Barron Maverick she knew. Suddenly, she felt too exposed without her jacket on. Just knowing that he’d been looking at her that way made her nipples sting. Lord, she remembered those fevered nights with Barron… under the moon and stars, his deep, baritone growls sending chills down her spine… the way he made love; hot, intense, and impassioned until there was nothing left to do but sob from pleasure.
“What do you make of it?” she said, quickly bringing her mind out of self-hypnosis, and beginning to munch on her fries without tasting them. She had to do something with her hands.
“I think the weak alphas came in and cased the joint, flashing money to make it look like they already came loaded,” he said in a gravelly tone with his head hung back and eyes closed while inhaling and exhaling very slowly. “Then Cutter and his posse came in as a follow up recognizance to be sure, using the same pattern.”
She couldn’t speak as she watched Butch labor to breathe. Slowly and very methodically, she abandoned her fries and the pop on the edge of her desk. It was the sexiest, most primal thing she’d seen Barron do. The man was simply breathing, on focus with his words, but a repressed shift was clearly kicking his ass. He was making her remember too much tonight, and she was less than stable. Plus, he was right. What was happening on the floor smelled suspicious.
“You think they’ll make a move tonight?” she murmured, and then watched his breath hitch from the sound of her voice.
“I hope not,” he said, lifting his head slowly to stare at her. “I’m being real.”
She squeezed her knees together under her desk to stave off the want that was burning between her thighs. “I have to watch the floors and be sure they don’t try something stupid.”
“I know; me too,” he said in a low rumble, and then slowly cased the room, his gaze stopping on the technology and finally settling on the lock on the door.
“Oh… no, Maverick, don’t even think it,” she said chuckling softly, unable to force indignation into her tone.
“We can still watch the monitors. The door will be locked.” His unblinking gaze and the serious tone of his voice held her for ransom. “I missed you. The moon is out, and I can’t fake it. I can’t forget. Being around you messes me up bad, Laurel.”
“I missed you, too—but this is my gig, Mav… come on. Gimme a break.”
“Then, when do you go on break?” he asked, slowly standing.
“I don’t. Not with a potential threat in the casino,” she murmured and stood.
They both stared at each other for a moment.
“You’re standing way too close,” she said quietly, her eyes searching his.
; “I know,” he murmured. “But I can’t back up.”
She swallowed hard. “Neither can I.”
“You gonna call Malcolm… or your men on the floor… so somebody else can watch those guys for a few?”
“In a little while,” she said slowly, as his hot palm cupped her cheek and seared it.
He shuddered when she turned her mouth against it and kissed the center of it as her eyes closed. “You wanna watch the monitors together?”
She nodded and placed her hand in the center of his stone-cut chest. “We can’t shift in here, though—you know that.”
He only nodded and stepped in closer to her. Initially it was impossible to speak as the words he was about to say got lodged in his chest under her warm hand. “You’re burning up.”
She closed her eyes. “So are you.”
He allowed his trembling hands to fall to her shoulders. Heat fever was making her blouse stick to her body. He breathed her in, pressing his nose to her hair as she fit against him with a whimper that released a deep, guttural groan from within him. The moment her hands slid up his back, he sought her mouth hard, and could feel his vertebra beginning to separate for a massive wolf transformation. She pulled out of the kiss, gasping.
“You’re shifting and—”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered urgently, cradling her face and raining hot kisses against it. “It’s just been so long without you, baby.” His voice was bottoming out, becoming unintelligible. She felt so good; his body couldn’t stop moving against hers as she gathered his leather lapels into her fists. He still had a gun on him, and couldn’t even think about wasting time removing it. His hands were preoccupied in her velvety hair, then caressing her arms, her supple spine, and sliding over hips he’d missed until they covered the firm lobes of her ass. “Oh, God Laurel, get somebody in here to cover for you for an hour.”
“I can’t leave my post,” she breathed out, her hands sliding up his chest and over his nipples, making him insane as she nipped his Adam’s apple.
“The door is locked,” he gasped on a ragged murmur.
“We have to watch the monitors. If you shift, I won’t be able to.”
He crushed her mouth again, nodding, wishing he could just drop to all fours, but knew she was right. If he went there, it would be all night, no human reasoning capacity within him. She was sho’ nuff about to make him go straight wolf.
She yanked away from him, spun around giving him her back, and flattened both her palms on the desk. He lost it as her backside slid against his groin. All he could do was blanket her with a groan, cup her breasts, and slowly run his hands the length of her abdomen to find her pants fastenings. It took everything in him not to shred the fabric, but as she began to pant and grind pleasure into his groin with her haunches, the consequences of doing that became a very distant concern. Her head dropped back and the howl she held in made his hands clumsy. His mind had one goal: get her pants down.
Agony produced sweat that ran in rivulets down his temples. Her blouse was already drenched from her perspiration and suffering. She helped him get her fastenings undone, and yanked down her zipper; he quickly pushed her linen pants over the swell of her hips and bit her shoulder as his palms drank in her warm, damp flesh. He had no patience for the thong; it was gone with a sudden rip. His fingers caressed her belly, and then slid between her thighs to sink into her wet valley. It had been so long, the sensation made him need to look at a monitor to keep the inner wolf at bay.
But it was the sound of her fractured voice that did it, along with her frenzied attempts to get his belt unbuckled, and then work on his pants hardware. He silently cursed himself for the complexity of clothes as she struggled, and he tried to assist, but was unable to stop touching that hot, wet, slippery place that smelled so good between her thighs. Years away from her were making him foolish, but right now he didn’t care.
The moment she freed him, he knew they were both in trouble. The burn of her skin as he pressed against her softness was so exquisite, tears blurred his vision. He could feel her howl working its way up her abdomen as he gently extracted his hand from between her legs, briefly held her hips positioning for sudden entry, and then sank against her in a deep thrust. It was so damned good he yelped.
“Barron, it feels so good!”
The way she’d said his name blanked out all reason. The tight, slick sheath of her body was pure destruction to a man’s will. He grabbed her around the waist hard with one arm, bracing on the desk with his free hand, as he nipped her ear and kept thrusting.
“Go ’head… shift for me, baby,” he murmured between hot bursts of breath. “I’m right there with you.”
But fragile clarity came to his mind as he threw his head back and glimpsed a monitor. Cutter and his crew were on the move. Damn it!
“I’m shifting,” she wailed. “I can’t help it.”
“No! If you go, I’m gone,” he said between his teeth, trying to hold it back. “I won’t be able to shift back. If somebody knocks on the door, won’t matter.”
It was as plain as he could make it in short, choppy sentences laced with heavy breaths. If Malcolm barged in or there was a floor emergency, there’d be no way to preserve her dignity, shift back, and be cool. Not now. He knew she’d never forgive him if he took her there. And yet, at the moment there was only right now, sending spasms of acute pleasure through his rod, crossing his eyes, splattering her back with droplets of his sweat, a repressed howl at the moon bubbling within him. Damn… he was losing control.
She nodded quickly as though reading his mind and dropped to her elbows beneath him, reaching backward to stroke his hip, her fevered mouth pressing a kiss against his bulging bicep. If she hadn’t read his mind, then she’d definitely read his body. When her spine plummeted and she suddenly lifted her backside hard to meet him, he bit his lip not to holler. She hollered for him. That set off a chain reaction of call and response that neither of them could fight. Her name was bouncing off the walls between each breath; her nails were pulling up desk walnut; he’d almost knocked himself out, his forehead colliding with a monitor while trying to drag her up onto the desk.
Heaven help any fool that knocked on the door. The hair on his knuckles was starting to grow, and he could feel it getting longer from his scalp, thick ringlets brushing his ears as he furiously rocked against her. The transformation was trying to come as hard and fast as he was. Her voice was changing, getting deeper with every moan, and then she shuddered so hard when she climaxed that his lower canines split his lip.
The seizure that shot through him was blinding; the howl was ridiculous. But there was no way to stop it. The mournful wail blended in with hers and left them both limp and winded on the desk with their eyes closed.
It took him a moment to peel himself up from her spine enough to gather his wits. She was sprawled out beneath him, the desk veneer ruined.
Laurel slowly lifted herself up from the desk, leaving a damp outline on it from where her body had been. He kissed the nape of her neck, allowing his hands to revel her breasts while nuzzling her now very long hair.
“That was fantastic,” he murmured against her shoulder, still inside her, and feeling her body contract around him. This gorgeous woman in his arms was the only one that had made him feel this way; this complete. He couldn’t stop kissing her.
She leaned against him with a sigh and reached backward to touch his face. “That was crazy-fantastic, Barron… You’re the only one that makes me get insane like this.” She released another satisfied moan and turned enough to kiss his shoulder. “Your hair and beard grew while we were at it.”
He chuckled low in his throat. “Among other things. You have that effect on me.”
“The fries and pop fell,” she said with a slight laugh that made her canal tense, dredging whatever remained in his sack.
He shivered with a smile. “I’ll buy you some more for the late-night munchies.” Thoroughly content, he murmured the promise agai
nst her neck. “Then we can go till the moon fades. Remember that time… midnight till after dawn, and we were still out there going strong?”
They both tensed and he slowly withdrew. Oh… boy… midnight. The tournament. The rival clan. She didn’t even have to say it. This had been nuts. Completely insane.
“I know,” he whispered, now trying to help her pull up her pants. She didn’t turn around, but quickly zipped them up. He followed suit, but had difficulty. He was still too hard. “We didn’t watch the monitors,” she said in an unnaturally calm tone, but still didn’t turn around.
“Yeah, uh, I know.” He let his breath out hard and stroked her hair, knowing she was freaked out beyond imagination. “But at least I kept my word. I didn’t shift… not all the way.”
He watched her hug herself and lean her head back. “Oh, my God… I didn’t make you put on a condom, either.” He froze. “Ooops,” he said slowly, and then let out a very quiet sigh. “Uh…”
She held up her hand. “My bad,” she whispered.
He kissed her hand and turned her around. “It’ll be cool,” he said, forcing alpha bravado into his voice. He tried to lean down to kiss her, but her eyes held such quiet hysteria he hesitated.
She just looked up at him. “I’m in heat.”
He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. What could he say? He’d definitely dropped a full payload. They were both still breathing hard from it. He just hoped she was still on the pill, back then she was. Maybe they’d dodged another silver bullet? But something crazy was going on in his head—a part of him wouldn’t mind if tonight made things more permanent.
“I need to clean up in here and…” her words trailed off as she glanced at her partially destroyed desk while trying to smooth her clothes. “Oh, shit…”
“Baby, don’t panic. We’ll get cleaned up; I’ll fix the desk somehow while you go to your suite and take a quick shower. Then, uh, what I can do see, is uh, watch the monitors for you, and uhmmm. Oh shit. Uh, then when you come back down, all I gotta do is hit the men’s room for a minute—then we can go talk to Malcolm, and—”
