Wild & Steamy

by Carolyn Crane

  He’d been in bed, she realized. Sleeping—or trying to. Suddenly aware of her bare breasts beneath the thin shift, she pulled her sheet up to her chin.

  Temperance almost lost her courage before she found it again. “I thought you might sleep with me from now on.”

  His blush covered his face, his neck. How far down did it go? Her gaze dropped, then stopped at the linen stretched over his hips, the tent tall enough to house a fair. Her fingers shook, and the ache started again, so needy, so deep.

  “I think that you would like to come to bed, too,” she said. Oh, and how she wanted him to.

  His eyes closed. His voice was tortured. “I haven’t…before.”

  So? “Neither have I. But I’m sure we’ll manage to fit everything into the right places.”

  He nodded, and her heart thumped as he approached the bed. She scooted to give him room. He lay on his side, his feet at the very bottom. Gently, he stroked her cheek.

  She touched his, felt the heat. “My sister once warned me that a man who blushed so easily was probably a Man With Appetites.”

  His fingers stilled, and worry crept into his eyes. “I might be. I want so much, Temperance. But I don’t want to frighten you. Or hurt you.”

  He was the sweetest, most perfect man. She brought her face close to his.

  “You cannot hurt me, Edward.”

  His nod was small, a bare movement of his head. Their lips were close. His ragged breath swept across her mouth before he filled the distance between them.

  And, oh so sweet. His kiss was a slow taste, a tease against her lips before he opened his mouth on a groan and took it deeper. His hands found her waist, hauled her against his rigid body. She felt the hard press of him against her hip, and she’d never, never have imagined that simply knowing how he wanted her could strike sparks through her body, could make her squirm against him, until she was panting and wet—so wet!—between her thighs that she could not even look at him when he first touched her there. Wanton. But he didn’t push her away; it only seemed to inflame him, tearing her shift up over her body, his mouth suddenly hot on her nipples and his fingers pressing inside her.

  She gasped, squeezing her thighs around his hand. Edward stilled.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  Unable to speak, she shook her head. But now his mouth was slower as he bent his head, the suction of his lips and tongue at her breast matching the languorous movement of his hand. Tension began to roll through her, some deep, awful, wonderful tightening that seemed to cramp at her calves and push her hips into wild gyrations, leaving her crying out his name and sobbing for some release—and suddenly it was there, in great pulsing waves that shook her, shook her like the convulsions of a cough, but so luscious.

  Edward’s mouth found hers again, his hips settling in the cradle of her thighs. She felt him, thick and probing. She closed her eyes and stilled as a new ache formed, moving deeper, deeper, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. He groaned and his weight came over her, the ache not so painful anymore but just so there, it was all that she could feel.

  His body shook. With her hands on the bunched muscles in his shoulders, she urged him to move. He withdrew and surged, and that easily Temperance forgot herself, forgot everything but the strength of his body, the sweetness of his mouth, the heat of his skin. The tension came again, building, and she strained to meet it, rising with him, falling, circling her legs around his hips to hold him close, arching her back as it swept through her, coming again and again with each heavy thrust. He called her name then, his body suddenly still but for the pulse of him deep within.

  With a groan, he settled over her. Temperance wrapped him in her arms, felt the heaviness over her chest that was her constable, pinning her to the bed—and for the first time not making her fear that she was dead, because she’d never been so alive.

  She kissed his jaw. “I love you,” she said, and laughed as he rolled over, carrying her with him. “And thank you for saving my life.”

  “Saving you saved mine,” he said gruffly.

  “I’m glad,” she said, and smoothed her hand down his side. His blush rose, and she grinned. “I ought to warn you that I’ve just discovered that I’m also a Woman With Appetites.”

  He smiled. “Then it’s a fine thing we’re in London. No one will come when you scream.”

  She laughed and lowered her head. Yes. A fine thing to be in London, indeed.

  VIXEN

  Jill Myles

  Miko hated it when people showed up on her doorstep.

  It was the one reason she’d moved to the country, after all. Well, one of many. Modern life involved a great many people crammed into very small spaces, and that was difficult to deal with when you were a were-fox with the constant need to shift to fox form. But even more than that, just being around men made her hormones sing. Were-foxes weren’t called vixens for nothing. Out in the wild, a fox vixen was prone to, well, polygamous relationships, and that carried over to their human counterparts. Spend a few hours of time around a man? She’d start to feel the need to select a mate. But if men weren’t around? No problem. No needs. No worries. No mates. Just peace and quiet, where she could relax and paint to her heart’s content.

  Add in the fact that the country was serene and involved very, very few door-to-door salesmen, living outside of the city in an old farmhouse was perfect for her needs.

  So it was irritating to see two men on her big wrap-around porch.

  Even more irritating, they’d rung the doorbell three times now and didn’t appear to be going anywhere. She’d have to answer at some point because every time it rang, it broke her concentration. Sighing, Miko dumped her pencil into the Mason jar that held her artist supplies and left her studio, moving across the old farmhouse to the front door.

  As she pushed through her kitchen, a particular object caught her ire – a delicate green bonsai tree on the counter, a leafy green oasis in the clutter. Another one of her mother’s gifts. She hadn’t realized her mother had left one the last time she came over. Seeing the bonsai just made her even more irritated, and she grabbed it and swept it into the garbage before continuing on to the front door.

  That was her mother – never taking no for an answer. No matter how many times Miko told her to butt out, she’d completely ignore her daughter’s wishes. Maybe it was a were-fox trait to be stubborn and independent beyond all reason. Her mother didn’t even like the term ‘were-fox’. She preferred ‘kitsune’.

  Miko preferred were-fox. Which pretty much told everything about her relationship with Yui Woodward.

  Miko jerked the door open, about to snarl something unpleasant through the screen. She didn’t need her roof redone, wasn’t interested in selling the mineral rights to her land, and certainly didn’t need to buy candy bars or Girl Scout Cookies or have her lawn mowed. As soon as she glimpsed the men on her porch, though, she stopped.

  If these men were roofers, damn, maybe she should get her roof redone. Because…wow. Every hormone in her body went instantly on alert. Both men were gorgeous, in that odd, mismatched pair sort of way. One was enormous, with big, broad shoulders, huge muscled arms, and a close-cropped skullcap of dark hair. It should have made him frightening except for the fact that the look in his soft brown eyes was warm and mild, as was the smile curving his mouth.

  His companion was slightly more compact, his frame that of a swimmer rather than a bodybuilder, and his blond hair fell in loose, tousled waves across his forehead. Where his companion had warm eyes, this one’s sharp blue eyes sparkled with a dangerous, fun gleam. Miko could tell at a glance that they were polar opposites. The mild one and the wild child.

  And judging from the mischievous look in the blonde’s eyes as she sized them up, they knew it too.

  Immediately, her fox nature began to react. When a desirable male was in the area, her natural instinct was to preen and pose to make herself more attractive. To slide her hands slowly over her body when she knew they were looking. To gi
ve a man hot, possessive looks to let him know she was interested. Two handsome men? Well. It was an immediate turn-on, and she licked her lips, her voice pitching low. “Can I help you two with something?”

  “I sure hope so,” said the blond, grinning at her. He hadn’t missed her quick appraisal – and approval – of their appearances.

  The dark haired one cleared his throat, the hint of a blush tingeing his cheeks. He pulled out his wallet and approached the screen door. “My name is Jeremiah Russell, and this is Sam Thorpe.”

  Miko kept the smile on her face. “And?”

  “Yui Westwood sent us.”

  God. Not another one of her mother’s matchmaking schemes. Miko raised a skeptical eyebrow and crossed her arms. “And I shouldn’t tell you both to fuck off…why, exactly?”

  Sam licked his thumb and raised it to the breeze, waiting a moment for it to change. As soon as it did, she knew.

  They were shifters. Just like her. Here on her doorstep. Two cat shifters, if her nose was correct. Her eyes narrowed. Well. That either made things really interesting, or really annoying. Either way, she couldn’t turn them away from her door. Miko opened the screen door, gesturing for them to come inside. “I should have guessed.”

  “Your mother said you should call if you have concerns,” the darker-haired one began in a mild voice.

  “Or if you’re just wowed by our charm,” the blond added with a grin and clapped his friend on the back. “Though this behemoth might make you a little anxious.”

  Again, the darker one showed signs of embarrassment, but it was a good-natured embarrassment. As if the two ribbed each other all the time and the blond just happened to get the upper hand. Sam and Jeremiah, she reminded herself, trying to memorize their names. Sam the cocky blond and Jeremiah the sweet, overgrown brunette.

  She wondered if they teamed up for everything. A throb of heat flashed deep inside her body, making her pulse flutter.

  Frowning at her instant response, Miko shut the door and moved toward the kitchen. Annoying visitors or not, she had to offer hospitality to fellow shifters. “Can I get you guys something to drink? I need to make a quick phone call to my mother.”

  “Of course,” said the tall one easily.

  She poured two glasses of iced tea into tumblers and reached for the phone, cradling it to her ear and turning her back to her guests. The phone’s short cord kept her in the room, which she found irritating; the two feline shifters would be able to hear everything her mother said, even through the phone line. Shifters of all kinds had amazing hearing.

  “It’s about time you called,” her mother said into the phone, in Japanese.

  Miko drummed her fingers on the receiver. Her mother always spoke Japanese, but mostly did it to annoy her daughter, who hated reminders of who and what she was. For once, though, it was working in her favor. She doubted either of the shifters in her house spoke Japanese. She replied in Japanese. “Mother, why are you sending strange men over to my house?”

  “Not strange men. Two shifters,” Yui corrected. “They will help you this week.”

  “What do I need help with?”

  “Did you find yourself a mate? Is he there to protect you?”

  “God, Mother. Do you have a one track mind? I’m twenty-seven. Is that what this is? Matchmaking? I don’t need your help with men—”

  “You are headstrong and foolish and you—”

  “I’ll call you later, Mother,” Miko said loudly, in English. “When you’re ready to have a real conversation.”

  “Miko-chan,” Yui warned, “listen to your mother—”

  “Gotta go,” she said, and hung up. Miko stared at the phone, and then pinched the bridge of her nose. Why had she even called her mother? Yui didn’t approve of Miko’s quiet lifestyle and thought she should spend her time recruiting men to service her were-fox needs if she didn’t take a mate or two. Her mother – still incredibly beautiful at fifty-five – had a harem of men that she kept at her disposal, and constantly had a new boyfriend in the wings. As a child, it had been confusing. As a teenager, it had been humiliating. When she’d grown up, she’d vowed that she’d control her own were-fox nature better. No harem of men. No constant stream of new boyfriends that zipped out of her life as quickly as they zipped in. Miko preferred a quiet, celibate life.

  Her mother clearly had other ideas.

  Miko turned. Both of the men were still studying her, standing where she’d left them. Though one blushed at being caught staring, the other returned her frank look with a smile. She sank down in one of the two chairs, indicating that they should do the same.

  At her cue, the tall one sat, awkwardly. Jeremiah, she reminded herself. “My mother probably told you that I need a big strong man around the house to see to all my needs. She’s wrong. I don’t need anyone.”

  Jeremiah rubbed his face, a blush moving across his cheeks. “Actually, she hired us to be your bodyguards for this week.”

  Miko sat up in surprise. Bodyguards? But both of them were so attractive. Surely that hadn’t been just luck. “Oh.”

  Sam seemed to want to fill the silence with small talk. “This isn’t what I expected,” he said, glancing around her messy house with surprise. “You’re not what I expected.”

  Annoyance flared in her. “Oh?” What were they expecting from a were-fox? A room full of sex toys and a guy in latex chained up in the corner? “What exactly were you expecting?”

  Sam the blond gave her an assessing look. “We thought you wouldn’t be, you know.” He rubbed his nose and grinned. “Pretty. Young. What with you living out here on your own. Heck, I was expecting a bunch of cats and some knitting.”

  Jeremiah put his hand over his face. “Sam…”

  “What?” His partner looked surprised. “I’m just telling her the truth.”

  Miko smothered a laugh. All right, then. They weren’t here to jump in the sack with her, despite what she’d suspected. She relaxed a bit, and wondered briefly if they even knew she came from a family of fox shifters. “And what is this about, exactly? Why did my mother send you to be my bodyguards?”

  Jeremiah’s face grew serious, his brown eyes growing darker. “The local hunt club has a new chapter leader. An English one.”

  She frowned. “So what does that mean?”

  Sam finished downing his iced tea, then reached across her low table to grab Jeremiah’s and drink it as well. “Rumor has it that he’s started a fox-hunting club.”

  Her breath left her lungs. “Fox hunting? That’s…that’s not allowed. It’s illegal.”

  “It is illegal,” Jeremiah said calmly, glancing over at Sam, then back to her. “But we have it on good authority that it’s happening, nevertheless. Another were-fox – Hayami – was chased through the woods by several men on horseback with hunting dogs.”

  Miko sucked in a breath. No wonder her mother had sent them. “Hayami’s my cousin. Is she all right?”

  Why hadn’t anyone told her? Her mother had said nothing on the phone, simply started in on her usual tirades, and Miko hadn’t known to ask. Guilt surged through her. She should have known that Hayami had been attacked, but…she didn’t keep up with her family. It was easier than answering nosy questions, seeing her cousins and mother with an endless string of men, the appraising looks she got from their dates, and her own involuntary response.

  Her mother seldom took Miko’s opinion into mind, choosing to drop by – or send people by – to remind her exactly who and what she was. Family was complicated. Family expected things. Family expected her to embrace her nature fully, and she’d spent years fighting that very thing. Still, hearing that her cousin had been hunted filled her with fear and a little bit of shame. She hadn’t known.

  “She’s fine,” Sam assured her. “But until this gets this sorted out, other shifters have been assigned to shadow the local foxes.” He gave her a sideways glance and muttered. “And you are definitely a fox.”

  “Sam,” Jeremiah warned, then gave Mik
o a bit of an embarrassed look. “You’ll have to ignore him. He’s a blowhard, but harmless.”

  And they expected her to smile prettily and ignore that obvious invitation? If so, they didn’t know were-foxes. Even though a small voice in her head said she should ignore it, she couldn’t help but turn to Sam and give him an equally assessing look. Her gaze crossed over his shoulders and down to his crotch, and focused there. “He’s not bothering me. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

  At that, both men’s eyes gleamed.

  *** *** ***

  It was strange, adjusting to having two men in the house when before it had only been her. She wasn’t sure if she liked the intrusions or not.

  “Can I set my laptop up in here?”

  Miko glanced back to see Jeremiah re-entering the house, a large leather satchel slung over one shoulder, a garment bag across the other. Obviously, he was ready to stay at her place a few days.

  The sight irritated her. "I don’t have a choice, do I?" How would she possibly concentrate with strangers crawling all over her house? She needed silence to concentrate, and just knowing they were there was already like a burr stuck in her coat.

  He gave her an almost apologetic look, deep brown eyes mild. "I know you don’t want us here, Ms. Westwood, but we’ll be out of your house as soon as we know you’re safe."

  "I know you’re just trying to do your job, even if it’s an annoying one." Miko swept past him, opening the door to one of the guest rooms and indicating he should enter. "But please, don’t call me Ms. Westwood." It did, indeed, make her think of gray-haired cat ladies.

  Or her mother.

  Again, the soft, gorgeous smile. "Miko, then."

  The soft ripple of his voice did dangerous things to her insides, and she clamped her legs tight together to quell the ripple of desire. "That’s right," she said, trying to keep her voice light. She moved out of his way as he entered the room and set his things down.

  "Where are we staying?" asked Sam from behind her, and Miko turned. He lounged against a wall, that same sly, charming grin on his face. A grocery bag of clothing slung over his shoulder. No computer for him, and his sunny curls were a mess, his shirt un-tucked. She guessed that he was the type to go through life charging ahead, whereas Jeremiah was the cautious partner.