Down & Dirty (Bundle)

by Rogers, Moira

  People making that same assumption about Virginia Howard had led to bloodshed and death a few short months ago. Jack had been forced to kill a member of the pack, and resentment still seethed under the surface. Add in the possessive distaste most male wolves had for the idea of humans touching their women, and Thomas was sitting on a powder keg that could explode at any minute.

  Which meant paying Lottie a visit tomorrow. And not the kind he’d hoped to, where he asked her on a walk and tried to ascertain if he was wasting his time with his careful courtship. The kind that would pretty much ensure she’d never think kindly of him again.

  Sometimes I hate my job.

  Chapter Two

  Lottie heard the quiet squeak of the door hinges even over the music from the piano and the Friday afternoon chatter around the main hall. She looked up from the papers laid out on her corner table out of habit.

  Her heart seized when Thomas Crawford stepped through the swinging doors. The obvious strength in his tall, solid frame stole her breath, and she chided herself for acting like a young girl with a crush. He’s just a man, and you’ve had your share of those, she told herself. Calm down.

  Shorty, the quiet man who’d taken over tending bar part-time since Hazel’s departure, raised a hand in greeting. “’Afternoon, Thomas.”

  “Shorty.” Thomas paused by the bar and smiled. “How’re things this afternoon?”

  “Not bad. Gettin’ busy, though.” Shorty raised an empty glass. “Drink?”

  Lottie tensed. He had to want a drink. If he wasn’t there to drink, then he was either there to see her… or to go upstairs, which was something he’d never done, not in the three years she’d been open for business.

  Thomas flashed her a regretful look that answered that question even before he shook his head at the bartender. “Here on business. Maybe later.”

  She relaxed as she began to gather the invoices from the table, but only a little. “Business” could mean almost anything, and his look hadn’t been particularly encouraging. “Why don’t you accompany me into my office, Mr. Crawford? Shorty, ring if you need anything, all right?”

  Shorty nodded and went back to wiping the bar.

  Lottie stood and tucked the sheaf of papers into the crook of her arm. Thomas knew the way to her office, but she gestured toward the narrow hallway at the back of the main room anyway. “How have you been?”

  He fell into step next to her and smiled a little. “Whenever you call me Mr. Crawford it makes me feel old.”

  She willed her heart not to pound as she pushed open the door and held it for him. “Well, I wouldn’t want that, Thomas.” She held her breath as he walked past, then bit her lip as she closed the door behind them. “Is it pack business that brings you here?”

  “A little pack business, a little of the more… mundane sort.” He cleared his throat. “Can I sit down?”

  “Make yourself at home,” she told him, gesturing to a plush chair. She stowed the paperwork and leaned her hip against the edge of her walnut desk. “What is it?”

  “I want to say first, Charlotte… I’m only here because of the state of the pack. Because of what happened when the men tried to cause trouble for Virginia.”

  Though the mention of the threat to Ginny made her want to growl and bare her teeth, Lottie only sighed and offered him a small smile. “Which one complained about me?” It had to be one of the other brothel owners. They’d always hated her. Lately, everyone’s business had been flagging except for hers. “Or did they finally wise up and come to you as a cohesive group?”

  He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “You have to understand that I don’t for a minute believe any of the things they’ve said, but if I don’t follow up, it could cause trouble.”

  She had to laugh at his nervous expression. “I know that, honey. It’s your job.” Honey? That’s very businesslike, Charlotte. Good job. “Is it about Sarabeth? Ira Braswell has been trying to find out for the last two weeks why she left his place and came to work for me.”

  “They brought it up,” he admitted. “But their main complaint -- and the one they could cause the most mischief with -- is the fact that the humans are going upstairs.”

  “Mmm.” She walked around her desk and sank into her leather office chair. After a moment, she folded her arms on the desk. “Not all of the women care to entertain human men. There are also those who don’t care one way or the other, and even a few who prefer them.” She arched an eyebrow. “Is that any different from the werewolves who come here to avail themselves of Melinda’s very human services?”

  Thomas held up both hands. “You won’t get any arguments from me, Lottie. I’m not saying it’s right. I’m not even saying most of the men around here would know why it bothered them. But you know how the males get when women are scarce. The strong overpower the weak, and no werewolf is weaker than a human. It’s instinct.”

  The scarcity of available women was exactly why she’d opened the Full Moon in the first place. She studied Thomas’ face while she tried to formulate a reply. “I appreciate the position you’re in, but I’m not going to refuse service to humans. I don’t really see that as any different than Gerald Watson refusing to seat me in his restaurant or Bonnie Kim telling me she won’t sell me a dress because I’m a wolf. And I’m not all right with that, not in the least. I’m sorry.”

  His jaw tightened, and he looked away from her. “You may not have a choice, Charlotte. I can try my hardest to smooth this over, but there’s going to come a point where Jack has to make a hard choice. One or two complaints we can handle. But if it gets out of hand… just think about it. Please?”

  Anger prickled over Lottie’s skin, and she gritted her teeth. “I’ll follow whatever decisions Jack makes, you can be sure of that.”

  “Lottie --” Now he just sounded frustrated. “I think it’s stupid too. But I have to do my job, whether I agree with it or not.”

  She rose and stalked around the desk. “I didn’t know your job included placating insecure, bigoted men.”

  His gaze snapped to hers, and she felt the first taste of his power as he scowled. “Actually, my job includes placating everyone.”

  “Then it’s a miracle you haven’t already snatched yourself bald, Thomas Crawford,” Lottie shot back fiercely, ignoring the lash of power that whipped through the room. She braced her hands on the arms of his chair and leaned down until her eyes were level with his. “Because no one can make everyone happy. Just doesn’t work.”

  “Welcome to my life, Lottie.” And if the raw pain in his voice hadn’t been indication enough she’d struck a nerve, what he did next would have been. Because he kissed her.

  He didn’t coax or tease. His tongue drove past her lips and slid over hers, and she choked on a moan as fire shot through her. Her hands curled around his arms as she tumbled into his lap. One strong hand cupped the back of her neck, and Jack’s words came back to her. He’s got it bad for you.

  She hadn’t believed him. But now, with Thomas kissing her as though he’d never stop, she knew it was true. So Lottie tilted her head and kissed him back, pouring out every bit of her own frustrated desire.

  Thomas groaned, and power rose between them so fast she was sure people out in the bar would feel it. His hands found her shoulders and he pushed her back with another hoarse moan. “Lottie -- God, Lottie, I’m sorry --”

  It took her a moment to process his words, to realize he was apologizing, and she scrambled off his lap, horrified. “It’s all right.” The words came out sounding shaky, and Lottie smoothed her skirt so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “No harm done.”

  “No, not for that.” He moved so fast she was on the desk with his hands planted on either side of her hips before she realized he’d picked her up. “For this. I’m sorry for this.” One hand slid up to curl around the back of her neck as he kissed her again.

  Her hands skidded over the polished wood and then she reached for him, driving her fingers into his hair. An empty ache
bloomed inside her, and she cried out at the thought of him filling it. Filling her. “Don’t be sorry,” she gasped against his lips. “Just don’t stop.”

  He fumbled at the knot in her hair for a few seconds before finding the pins and pulling them free. The strands tumbled down and he wound them around his hand and inched her head back. “I have been trying to court you for a month,” he whispered against her chin. “You ignored me.”

  If he’d kissed her like this, just once, ignoring him would have been impossible. “You acted like you didn’t feel this. I didn’t know.”

  “You wanted me to grope you in inappropriate ways in front of the whole town?” His mouth found a sensitive spot on the underside of her jaw. “That would have been an unusual courtship method.”

  Lottie shivered, and her nipples tightened almost to the point of pain. “No, I just meant --”

  He cut off her words with another kiss, and she forgot what she was going to say anyway. Her lips parted under his again, and hunger overwhelmed her. Need drove away everything but Thomas, and she dropped her hands to tug at the buttons of his vest.

  The hand in her hair slid down her back and along her hip, and he curled his fingers in her skirt as he broke their kiss again. “You should kick me out,” he murmured. He gathered her skirt inch by inch, sliding it up her legs. “If you don’t, I don’t think I’m going to stop.”

  She didn’t answer, just kicked off her low-heeled shoes and pulled him closer as she started slipping free the buttons of his shirt. The thought of stopping was ridiculous, unimaginable. Unbearable.

  Thomas groaned and dragged her hands away, then pulled his shirt over his head without bothering to finish unbuttoning it. “Tell me you want this, at least.”

  Lottie couldn’t remember a time she hadn’t wanted him to touch her like this. “I want you,” she whispered, transfixed by the play of muscle under skin as he moved. “Thomas, please.”

  He groaned again and smoothed a hand up her leg, under her dress. “Tell me,” he repeated as his thumb brushed her inner thigh. “It’s the only good thing I’ve heard in weeks.”

  “I thought about this.” She leaned into him and spoke in between the soft kisses she pressed to his chest. “I waited for you to touch or kiss me, something. Anything.”

  A growl worked its way out of his chest, which vibrated under her mouth. “I was trying to be polite.” His thumb swept higher, teasing along the edge of her underwear. “Respectful, even.”

  “You did an admirable job,” she admitted, arching toward his hand. “But now you need to fuck me.”

  “Is that so?” He lifted his head and stared down at her with rough, unmasked need -- a raw expression she’d never seen on his face before. “Do you know what you’re asking, Lottie? I’m a werewolf who hasn’t had a woman in three years. You should know --”

  “Yes.” There wouldn’t be anything controlled or careful about it. He’d be hard and rough. Wild. Anticipation made her whimper, and unsated desire sharpened the ache between her thighs. She caught his face between her hands. “I know, Thomas, and I want that. I want you.”

  His thumb pressed between her legs, rubbing wicked, taunting little circles against her clit through her underwear. Without taking his eyes from hers he shifted his head and caught the heel of her hand between his teeth with a low growl.

  Lottie’s head snapped back as pleasure flooded her, as much from his ardor as the firm touch on her clit. She cut off a desperate, almost animal noise by biting into her bottom lip. Her hips jerked, and she fell back on the smooth wood of the desk.

  A moment later Thomas was hovering over her, one hand planted next to her head while the other continued its wicked caress. “If you want me to fuck you on your desk, Charlotte, you are damn well going to come first. Maybe more than once.”

  She tried to brace herself, to ground herself in reality even though the world was spinning away in a haze of heat and need, but all she managed to do was knock a marble paperweight to the floor. “Thomas --” His name dissolved into a low cry. “More.”

  The fabric of her panties gave way with a tear. He watched her face as his hand returned, rubbing against slick, sensitive flesh this time before he pivoted his hand and thrust two fingers into her. “Like that?”

  Everything was burning fast and hot inside her, and she was going to scream. Lottie couldn’t hold back her tortured moan so she gripped his back, nails digging into his flesh, and sank her teeth into his shoulder.

  “Yes,” he rasped. His breath blew hot against her neck as he lowered his mouth and licked over her throbbing pulse. “That’s right. This is what I imagine doing to you when I’m not being respectable.”

  His words snapped the thread of tension his touch had woven. She couldn’t scream, after all, because she couldn’t breathe, could only writhe under him and wish for the ecstasy to never end.

  And just when she thought it would, he closed his teeth on her neck with a possessive growl and worked a third finger into her. The hard thrust of his fingers sent another orgasm tearing through her, and she bit him harder as she fought not to shriek in pleasure.

  He stroked her as she came down, the gentle touch of his fingers a stark contrast to the hot, dangerous look in his eyes. “How do you like it, Lottie? Like this?” His hands hooked under her body and lifted her easily, pressing her to his broad chest. “Do you like to be on top?” Her feet hit the ground for just a moment before he turned her and pressed his hard cock against her ass. “Or do you like the animal inside us?”

  Her hands slipped on the desk as she rocked back. “Like this, like -- God, hurry. I need to feel you inside me.” Her neck stung where he’d bitten her, and she knew he’d bear bruises from her teeth. “I need to be yours.”

  “Mine.” His hands dragged her dress out of the way and she heard him fumbling with his pants. “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes.” She could barely force out the whisper, even though it was the truth. The truth was stark, terrifying. It could break her heart. “I need to be yours.”

  “Good.” He squeezed her hip and held her steady as he thrust into her with one long, powerful stroke. His tortured groan filled the room as he leaned over and pressed his chest to her back. “You’re mine.”

  It wasn’t how she’d imagined sex with Thomas Crawford. Even in her fantasies, he was usually slow, careful. He didn’t drive his cock into her hard enough to lift her off the floor. He didn’t claim her, not like this.

  It was perfection.

  It felt so good already, and he hadn’t even started moving. Papers crumpled under her hands, and Lottie tossed her head back. “I’ll never be quiet enough,” she warned.

  He slapped his hand down on the desk next to her and growled in her ear. “Then bite me.”

  Lottie knew she might have to, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to drive him crazy. Her tongue traced a delicate path up the inside of his arm, and she growled back at him. “What about you?”

  Thomas pulled back and laughed low in his throat as he surged forward again. “My whole life is not yelling when I want to. But even that might not be enough to keep me quiet with the way you feel…”

  A shiver ran through her, and she ground back against him. “How do I feel?”

  “Hot and tight and perfect.” His mouth brushed along her jaw. “So damn perfect.”

  Lottie turned her face to his and kissed him gently. “Perfect,” she echoed. The only things holding her back -- his reserve and her own misjudgments -- had vanished, so she let go, abandoning herself to him. “Thomas.”

  He rocked into her again. “Lottie.”

  She hissed in a breath and shuddered. “What?”

  Wet heat closed around her earlobe a moment before she felt the scrape of his teeth. He chuckled, and air tickled her cheek. “Maybe I just want you to keep saying my name.”

  “Thomas,” she whispered again, wiggling her hips as she raised one foot to stroke his calf. “Thomas.”

  He growled
and bit her ear as his hand tightened on her hip. “Don’t wiggle so damn much. I’m barely holding on as it is.”

  “Why do you think I’m doing it?” Frustration lent her voice a sharp edge, and she bucked in his grasp. “You’re making me rethink the question of whether I want to be on top.”

  “Lottie --” His breath caught and he let it out on a hoarse curse. “Three years, woman. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” Lottie brushed her lips over his cheek. One of his hands still rested on the desk beside her, and she twined her fingers with his. “I trust you.”

  Thomas closed his eyes and tried to summon up some of his infamous self-control. But he’d come here expecting Lottie to hate him, and somehow he’d ended up sheathed in her body and barreling toward the sort of rough, desperate sex that would leave a poor first impression. And that was the last thing he wanted to do. Somehow it had to be good enough that she’d ask him to touch her again. A hundred more times. A thousand more --

  Her body gripped his cock as he slid back, telling himself he’d go slow. He meant it too, until she whimpered again and the need to claim her overrode all sense. With one hand still braced next to her head, he slipped the other under her body and held her steady as he gave in to the pressing need and thrust into her.

  Lottie shuddered under him and moaned, a throaty, pleased sound that scattered what was left of his control. “Harder,” she begged. “Please.”

  So he thrust again, harder, burying himself in the warmth of her body with a satisfied groan. She felt so good, more perfect than he’d imagined. And not even his fantasies had provided him with the truth, the way she moved back against him when he pulled away, as if she couldn’t bear for him to leave her.

  “So good.” Her head hit his shoulder, and her whimpers turned into sharp, pleading gasps. “Don’t stop, Thomas -- You can’t ever stop --”