Flirt.
My phone rang right as I finished unpacking my small valise.
“Hi, Ingrid. Yes, I made it safely.”
“Hello, love. Pleased to hear it. I hope you’re enjoying yourself. I’m so sorry your boyfriend is a gnarled pecker. I know as your supportive best friend, I’m not supposed to tell you that, and I do apologize, but in the interest of brutal honesty, he is a gnarly, deformed, gonorrhea-riddled, puss-dripping knob.”
My teeth sank into my lip to keep from laughing. Ingrid was never subtle about her feelings concerning Adam, or anything else for that matter, and her British accent always seemed to add to her already humorous outlook.
“What did he do this time?”
“Besides glaring at me as though I was the doggy doo-doo he stepped in? Well, there was the bandying about of loud comments regarding our band’s ineptitude and our clumsy, amateurish execution. So, basically he belittled everything joyful and worthwhile about our existence.”
“Oh, Ingrid. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault he’s a pecker head, but why are you with him, again?”
I let out a tired sigh. “Don’t start. You know I hate the thought of getting old all alone.”
“Bloody hell, Mel, where do you think I’ll be as you grow old?”
“Probably busy with your future husband and future family?”
“Bollocks. I’ll be right beside you. We’re a team.”
“Where are you, by the way?”
“In the loo. I told Rita I needed to poo.”
This time I couldn’t contain my sharp burst of laughter. “What if they hear you talking?”
“What if they don’t and I’m stuck at this job for the rest of my miserable days? A reality, I might add, which is far more frightening than being elderly and single.” Her heavy exhale shot a staticky rattle through my phone. “I should have told shark-mummy and guppy-boy to sod off and hopped on the plane with you.”
That had been our original plan, until Ingrid was unable to get the time off. “Selfishly, I wish you had.”
“Well, there is a silver lining. Arriving the morning of the wedding gets me a seat on a flight next to Pierce.” Her wistful little sigh was almost sad. “Do you think your brother will ever notice that I grew knockers and an arse?”
Gag. “I hope not.”
“Hey! You’re supposed to be in my corner and want the best for me.”
“I am and I do. Which is why I don’t want you hooking up with Pierce.”
“I wouldn’t allow it to get messy. I mean, other than in the bedroom—no holds barred there.” The toilet flushed in the background. “I guess it’s back to the grind for me. His Royal Man-Baby and Queen Stick-Up-Her-Bum await their overworked office peon. This job will be the death of me.”
“You’ll die faster of starvation.”
“I’ve got a little meat on my bones.”
“Bye, Ingrid. Love you. Call me later.”
Something about Ingrid’s mix of perpetual pessimism and dry humor always lightened my mood. I felt horrible that she was stuck in a job she hated, and I would never tell her, but another reason I continued to make my relationship with Adam work was for her sake.
As petty and vindictive as he and his mother were, a messy breakup between Adam and me would surely involve Ingrid. They’d use her to retaliate, and I had no wish to see her become a victim of collateral damage.
Our band gigs were sufficient income for me, since I had a decent-sized investment portfolio and a low-key lifestyle. Ingrid, however, lived from check to check with little leftover at the end of the month. She needed that job.
I hung up, slung my small crossbody bag over my shoulder, and headed out to do the touristy thing. A stroll down the road running through the center of town and bisecting the island revived me. Blue sky, salty ocean breeze, small shops lining Main Street, this was what a vacation should look like, but the sun’s rays were fierce.
The road split at one point to accommodate a massive oak tree and the small grassy patch of earth around it. It was the first non-palm tree I’d seen on the island, and a wooden bench beneath it looked welcoming. The old tree offered shade from the blazing sun.
I stood near the bench and aimed my phone at the underside of the branches, intending to capture the tree’s beauty from a unique angle for a vacation photo album I planned to put together when I returned to Syracuse.
That was when I heard a tiny, little meow.
So helpless, so despondent, the sound made my heart ache. I blinked against the rays of dappled sunlight streaming through the branches and searched until I spotted calico fur. There was a cat stuck on one of the branches. It was bigger than I thought it would be, and not up excessively high, although to say I was no fan of heights was putting it mildly.
I called out to it.
“Here kitty, kitty…”
I made kissing sounds.
I cooed and cajoled and coaxed, but it didn’t budge. Standing back to judge the distance from the ground to the cat’s perch made me shudder.
Nope. No way. Not happening, little kitty.
I tried again. “Here kitty, kitty. Please come down if you can.”
It didn’t work.
Poor cat. It was probably terrified.
And who could blame it? Climbing a tree was not the best idea I’d ever had either, but I was a bleeding heart where animals were concerned, and I could not in good conscience walk away from a cat stuck in a tree. Even if that was what I probably should have done. What I definitely should have done.
I scanned the area, but most people were smart enough to either be on the beach or to have taken cover from the midday island sun somewhere air-conditioned. I was the only other living being nearby. Me and the cat.
I blew out a rough breath, stepped up onto the bench, and tried not to think too hard as I clasped the lowest branch and hauled myself up.
Don’t look down. Think of the poor kitty.
I hauled myself a little higher, then higher still, and just a little higher until I was close enough to almost touch the cat. We looked into one another’s eyes for a shared moment. Then, while I watched, its agile body leaped from branch to branch, as easily as breathing, until it hit the ground.
From the ground beneath the tree, as though mocking me, the furry devil had the audacity to look up at me and meow.
I tried to climb back down, but it was quickly and embarrassingly evident that my limbs were frozen.
I was petrified.
I was going nowhere.
4
Mac
“She’s stuck?”
Jay’s voice held a note of amusement as he fielded the call on the emergency line.
I perked up. I’d been living and working in Sunkissed Key for several months now and, save for a couple of kitchen fires and a few out-of-control bonfires on the beach, the job was dull as dishwater. Not that I wanted more fires, but something other than sitting at the station twiddling our thumbs would be nice.
“In a tree? If this is another prank by the police department—”
A couple of the other guys came over and listened in. A woman was stuck in the old oak in the center of town.
Jay hung up, grinning wickedly. “So…is it terrible if I make a joke about a pussy stuck in a tree?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. It is terrible. Let’s go.”
We piled into the one and only firetruck the island of Sunkissed Key owned and pulled up to the curb on Main Street next to the oak I lovingly referred to as Walter. It was the only tree on the island that looked anything like the trees in Ohio, where I grew up. The knotted, twisted growth sprouting from the earth seemed to resemble Walter Kowalski, the old man who used to live next door to us when I was a kid.
As I removed the ladder from the side of the truck, Jay and Matteo assumed the task of explaining our plan of action and offering reassurances to the woman in the tree.
The closer I got to where they stood, the harder th
e blood pounded through my veins, straight to my cock.
What the fuck?
I groaned aloud and inhaled deeper. As a sweet, heavenly scent washed over me, my cock rose to full mast, attempting to point the way like a directional arrow.
“Um… Hello, ma’am, my name is Jay Cutter. I’m with the Sunkissed Key Fire Department, and we’re here to get you down.” Jay was clearly trying to portray a professional demeanor. His words were professional enough, but I could detect the amusement in his tone.
I didn’t like it.
What I liked even less—what I hated, in fact—was that his voice was also flirtatious.
No idea why that made my blood boil, but it did.
I elbowed through the guys, nudged Jay harder than necessary, and locked the ladder at the base of the tree. When my gaze rose to locate our victim, my breathing stopped, my scalp tingled, my vision tunneled, and my brain struggled to process what I was seeing.
I was staring at the almost fully exposed ass of a woman in a sundress and combat boots.
And an exceedingly nice ass it was.
She cleared her throat. “If you gentlemen would just move back a tiny bit, I’d love to hurl myself to my death right about now.” Her sultry voice washed over me and my fully alert cock leaped achingly in my pants.
My wolf danced circles beneath my skin. The fucker was clawing to get out and cozy up to this sultry-voiced woman with the perfectly rounded ass cheeks. I was daydreaming about slipping my tongue beneath the little swath of pink cotton that barely concealed the most delicious aroma on the planet.
Mate.
My hand rested on the bark, bracing me. Mate? Now? Of all the fucking luck. I’d just found my mate. Up in a tree. In the middle of Main Street.
I took another deep inhale—and she was one hundred percent human!
“Earth to Mac?” Jay came up behind me, slapping my shoulder. “I know it’s a helluva sight there, but you want to snap out of it and give us a hand? I mean, we are professionals, after all.”
It hit me that I wasn’t the only one with a view up my mate’s dress at her exceedingly nice ass. The thin strip of panties hid little and, as the breeze fluttered her skirt around her thighs, we were all given an eyeful.
A jolt of fury ripped through me like a thunderclap. I was suddenly fuming—red hot. Steam was probably shooting from my ears.
“Turn the fuck away! All you fucking perverts, turn around!” I snarled out the order with every ounce of power and dominance I had in my shifter body and followed it with an I-mean-business growl.
Jay, Finn, and Matteo responded instantly, which helped restore a modicum of calm to my wolf.
Unfortunately, her scent still swirled around me. It floated in the air, wafted over me, wound its way into my nostrils, and turned me into a lust-addled, hormone-flooded, instinct-driven animal.
The other guys had turned away, sure, but that wasn’t enough. All of us except Matteo were shifters and they could fucking smell her too.
I began shoving them.
“Back up. Back the fuck up.”
Jay caught on right away, and Finn soon after. Laughing, he dragged a confused Matteo across the street with him. “Dude, you better listen. Mac’s really not kidding. He’s about to fight to the death anyone who even looks at that woman cross-eyed. If you want to make it home to your wife and kids tonight, I suggest you lower your eyes and keep your distance.”
Jay made a big production of holding his hands up and turning around with his back to me. The other guys did the same, amid a few snorts and snickers.
I made sure the ladder was anchored before climbing up a few rungs. My heart slammed around in my chest cavity like a ping-pong ball. I felt giddy—intoxicated. When I was level with her, and able to take in her appearance clearly, everything around me stilled.
As a shifter, I’d always known it was possible I would someday find a mate, and that if I did, I’d recognize her instantly as the one. Ever since I was a boy, I’d tried to imagine what my mate might look like. I could never decide if she’d be short or tall, thick or thin, dark skinned or light skinned, blonde, brunette, or redhead. I didn’t really have a type.
Or so I thought.
Looking at the woman in front of me, I now knew I most certainly did have a type—tall, willowy but not excessively thin, with hazel eyes, and short, sandy-blonde hair that fluttered around her face in the gentle breeze.
That was my type—she was my type.
When she shifted on the branch slightly and wobbled backward, her eyes flew wide. Her lips parted in a sharp gasp.
I quickly snapped my arm out, locking it around her waist, and pulled her closer, tucking her into my body.
The side of her breast pressed softly against my chest. Her hip was a warm weight against my leg. My jaw clenched and my posture stiffened. The slightest adjustment of my position would press my aching erection against her hip bone.
I was a big guy, even in shifter terms, so as tall as she was, she was rather slight against me. I fought to keep myself from swinging her around, hoisting her up, and plastering her against me with her legs wrapped around my waist.
Her heart thumped wildly, but it was her little puffs of nervous breath against my neck that were nearly my undoing. I would’ve died right then and there just for a taste of her—to run my tongue over her smooth skin, trail it down between her thighs, over her silken folds…
Breathe in. Breathe out. Try not to think about tearing her clothes off and making love to her with your tongue as she writhes in ecstasy to the pinnacle of her sweet, delicious climax.
She scanned my face, stopping when she met my eyes. The scent of her arousal spiked. Ah, so I was affecting her as well.
One of her hands latched onto the front of my shirt. Her fingernails bit into my skin. Those wide, hazel eyes stared straight into mine.
They seemed to be searching…for something.
I swallowed down my hyped libido. I had to get my head together and get her down out of Walter before she fell and broke a bone or sprained a ligament or, god forbid, cracked her skull open.
She was fragile.
As a shifter, I could fall. I could fall all day long. I could crack my skull all over the place. Not a big deal. I’d heal.
But my mate was fragile, as were all humans—easily broken and susceptible to a myriad of diseases. I’d spent enough time as a first responder to know that.
That sobering thought cleared my head. “I want you to step down onto the ladder with me, okay?”
She inhaled sharply and shook her head. “I-I can’t. It’s not safe.”
“I’m right here. I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She shook her head again. “If I start to fall… No, I’m too heavy. I’ll take us both down.”
“Hey, look at my arm.” I flexed my bicep. Then, grinning and speaking as soothingly as possible, I raised an eyebrow in my best macho, he-man pose. “These guns aren’t just for show, you know.”
My lame attempt at humor seemed to work. She visibly relaxed some.
“I could toss you over my shoulder and carry you down, but I thought you’d be more comfortable using the ladder on your own.”
“No! You can’t carry me.”
When I made a move to prove her wrong, she squeaked and practically leaped onto the ladder with me.
It was self-sabotage on my part. I should have carried her.
Keeping my promise that I wouldn’t allow her to fall, I stood behind her which only served to press her ass against my pelvis and her back against my chest. My arms remained around her with my hands braced on the rungs of the ladder just above hers.
“Good job.”
She looked over her shoulder at me with a shaky smile. From so close, her scent was even more tantalizing, like a heady drug—potent, stirring, torturous.
“Okay, I’ll climb down a rung and then you climb down a rung. Got it?”
She nodded. “You must think I’m ridic
ulous, but I hate heights. I have an irrational fear of them that I’d like to conquer someday, just not right this moment.” She trembled against me but descended step by step, as I’d instructed.
“Why did you climb a tree, then?”
With a sexy little frown, she huffed. “There was a…well, what appeared to be a cute, helpless kitten. I now know all that cuteness was a ruse, a cunning ploy meant to lure me to the most embarrassing moment of my life. What I thought was an adorable little ball of fluff was really an evil demon-spawn armed with a skillset of Machiavellian maneuvers. As soon as it coaxed me up here with its lies and trickery, the fiendish furball ditched me.”
“And then you were stuck.” I took another step down.
“And then I was stuck.” She groaned. “But, of course, not before I flashed all of Main Street.”
I winced as she followed me because with every step she took, her ass rubbed against my boner.
I wondered if I should apologize for that, but it wasn’t as though I could control it. Not with her ass stroking it every few seconds. Sometimes the damn thing had a mind of its own.
5
Mel
If there was one consolation prize in this nightmarish ordeal, it was being helped down the ladder by Hulk the hunky firefighter.
The man was delicious, and calling him Hulk was no exaggeration. My rescuer was so big, he made me feel petite. It wasn’t often that I was around a man who made me feel petite and, based on the part of his anatomy pressed against my left butt cheek, there was nothing small about him.
Hulk was packing.
Tall, firmly muscled, with cropped hair and dark-blue eyes that matched his navy blue uniform. He had a patch over the left pec that bore a picture of a ladder and a crisscrossed ax surrounded by the words firefighter on one side, rescue on the other, and EMT at the bottom.
As big, sexy men in uniform went, this one was the biggest and sexiest I’d ever seen. My vajayjay sure did think so. That old girl perked right up and responded instantly to him.
Craved Mate: Cybermates Page 2