Howl For Me

by Sydney Somers, Marie Morin, Marlee Eastman (Romance)

  "Dash? What...?"

  He crouched beside the bed, which brought him level with her, but had the added, if brief, benefit of hiding the fact that he was naked. Wryly, he thought even as he did so that it might have been better to take advantage of her disorientation to find something to put on, but his beast was still riding him, high in his blood, and the instincts of his beast were taking precedence making it hard to think clearly.

  "I found you on my deck ... unconscious."

  She stared at him, a frown between her brows. He could see she was struggling to remember ... and the moment she did. Her eyes widened. “There was a wolf.... Someone was following me."

  It was Dash's turn to frown. He'd thought it was a little extreme that she'd taken no more than a glance at him and keeled over, but he certainly hadn't been following her. Dismissing his state when he saw how distressed she was, he rose and settled next to her on the bed.

  That was a mistake ... for both of them. Brooke surged upward to meet him and threw her arms around him the moment he did. The connection of warm, bare flesh—his—to bare flesh—her face and arms—sent a shock wave through both of them, rousing his beast dangerously close to the surface. Her feminine scent engulfed him, sending blood thrumming through his heart and pouring through his veins like acid.

  "There was someone following.... “She broke off abruptly, tensing as she realized he was naked.

  He felt the brief debate that flickered through her, but she didn't withdraw. He managed to resist temptation all of two seconds before he slipped his arms around her. “It's alright. Whatever ... or whoever, it was, it's gone now. You're safe,” he murmured huskily.

  She shifted, burrowing her face against his neck. He swallowed with an effort, trying to ignore the feel of her in his arms, her warmth, the soft yielding of her form against his—her scent, but he'd desired her from the first and his instincts warred with his reason. He didn't realize until a wave of dizziness washed over him that he was dragging deep breaths laden with her scent into his lungs in direct contradiction to his mental warning to close his mind to her.

  Clearing his throat, he lifted a hand to her hair, stroking her soothingly instead of shoving her down on the bed as his urge compelled him and exploring her as thoroughly as he wanted to. “Tell me what happened,” he managed to get out finally, trying to re-direct his mind from the images playing havoc with his body.

  He'd more than half hoped, half feared she would pull away then. Ruefully, he wondered whether she didn't because she thought it was safer not to pull back for a better view or if it was just that she was too upset to release him because he made her feel safe.

  She was safe enough from what ever had frightened her, if came to that, but she might not agree if she knew she was in the arms of the ‘wolf’ that had brought on her faint.

  And she wasn't safe from his wolf—not once he caught the scent of her awakening awareness of him.

  "I'd gone for a walk,” she whispered a little hoarsely. “I heard something behind me. I couldn't see anything, but I knew someone was there. I wasn't familiar with the area, though. I kept walking and every time I thought about turning back, I heard it. Finally, I saw this bungalow and remembered you'd said you were building yours away from all the others so I came to look for you. That's when I saw the wolf."

  And that was when she made her second big mistake. She lifted her head and looked up at him with a wide, helpless gaze that sucked in him in.

  He stared into her eyes for a long, long moment, struggling with the urge to close the scant distance between them. In all honesty, he wasn't certain, later, whether she drifted toward him or he closed the distance himself, but one moment he was trying to convince himself to break the spell that had woven around them and the next he felt the brush of her lips against his, tasted her.

  Opening his mouth over hers, he surged toward her, carrying her down onto the mattress with his weight. He might still have been able to stop at no more than the kiss if she had given any indication that his touch was unwelcome.

  The hell of it was, he didn't know if he would've even noticed anything short of screaming and clawing at him to get free.

  Because from the moment he settled his mouth firmly over hers and sought entrance with the sweep of his tongue, a red haze of madness seemed to rise in his mind. She parted her lips readily, sighing into his mouth and her taste and surrender together shattered what was left of his shaky control. He thrust his tongue into her mouth in a bold sweep that processed everything at once—the heat of her, the satiny feel of the tender flesh of her mouth, the diminutiveness of that intimate cavern and her tongue, and above all, her taste. Almost instantaneously, the blood rushed from his brain to his cock, engorging it to its fullest and then pulsing there almost painfully with each frantic beat of his heart.

  He was only dimly aware of her response, as gratifying as it was, despite the effect had upon him, or maybe because of the effect it had upon him, but he felt the vibration of pleasure that wafted from her as much as heard the low hum of it. He felt the curious, almost tentative exploration of her fingers as she settled them along the sides of his back. His flesh pebbled, lifting the fine hairs along his spine as her hands drifted upward to explore his shoulders and then skated lightly downward again to clench his buttocks.

  It wasn't a distraction per se. It would've been more accurate to say it brought his mind to full focus. The kiss, which might have sufficed before, became merely the appetizer, not the main course. As much as he was enjoying exploring the hot, wet cavern of her mouth, he was instantly diverted to a pounding need to explore her other hot, wet cavern with the throbbing flesh he discovered he'd been pressing rhythmically against her thigh.

  It was still with great reluctance that he relinquished her mouth. The rest of her beckoned exploration, however, and he began to tug a little mindlessly at her clothing. Discovering it was too complicated in his current state of mind to figure it out, he simply sampled what he could of her flesh that was exposed—her throat and ear, her bared shoulders, the interesting dip along her collar bone.

  She ceased to stroke him, began to struggle against him. Briefly baffled and completely unwilling to break off his exploration, Dash grasped her wrists and carried them to the bed on either side of her head, manacling them there.

  She bucked beneath him and then stilled as he found her mouth again, thrashing and entwining her tongue with his in intimate dance.

  "Dash!” she said, breathless, her voice filled with distress when he broke for a gusty breath of air. “The ties and zipper are in the back."

  She might as well have been speaking in tongues for all he comprehended at first. It sank into his heated brain, however, as he nuzzled his way to her breasts that she'd given the key to reaching them.

  He was absolutely against letting her go of her for long enough to figure out how to get her out of the damned Chinese puzzle of her clothing, however.

  Gathering her into his arms, he rolled onto his side with her, exploring her throat with his mouth while he struggled with the dilemma and was finally rewarded with a loosening of the top half by jerking at the tie just beneath her shoulder blades. He slipped a hand back along her side and beneath the halter top of her sundress, palming one breast. Her nipple, already tightened into a hard bud, dug into his palm like a tiny rivet and his throat closed with the sudden urgency to pull it into his mouth.

  Shuttling down her body, he squeezed her soft breast with one hand, settling his mouth over it the moment he reached it and sucking. She tensed, shuddering, her own frantic efforts to rid herself of her dress stilling for several moments as she clutched his head instead. He toyed with the pert bud, alternately suckling and flicking at it with his tongue until she was gasping for breath, writhing against him feverishly. He discovered when he lifted his head in search of her breast that the fabric had been loosened. Trusting it out of his way, he sampled her other breast and then everything in between before charting a course up her chest to her
throat again.

  He found his way beneath the skirt of her dress as he covered her mouth again. Following her thigh to the apex, he cupped her sex. Her panties were damp with her need. The discovery sent a hard pulse of excitement through him. Withdrawing his hand, he slipped his fingers beneath the band of her panties and parted the lips of her sex with his fingers, rotating the tip of his index finger against her clit.

  She dug her head into the mattress, uttering a sharp gasp as she caught his shoulders, digging her fingers into him. “Now, Dash!"

  He needed no further prompting. Withdrawing his hand, he grasped her panties and dragged them down her thighs to her knees, rolling between her legs as she disentangled herself from the panties and parted her thighs for him. He surged upward, grinding his teeth at the pleasure that skated the edge of pain as his cock plowed along her cleft and connected with the mouth of her sex.

  Sucking in a harsh breath, he curled his hips to seat himself firmly and began to struggle against her resistant flesh. The moist, heated, tender flesh of her inner muscles clung to him, clutched him tightly, squeezing his already painfully swollen member until he felt like he might pass out from the sheer bliss of it. Sweat popped from his pores and beaded his flesh as he strained to gain ground and finally eased the pressure. Sucking in another harsh breath, he thrust again, slipping a little deeper, pressing onward until every muscle in his body was quivering with the effort to keep from spilling his seed until he was fully seated inside of her.

  "Christ!” he muttered between clenched teeth as he eased off again, dragged in another breath and pushed until her hot flesh enveloped him completely. He paused, panting for breath, struggling to calm his runaway heart, but he discovered fairly quickly that he was beyond regaining control. His body was screaming with the need for release.

  Lifting his upper body slightly away from hers, he braced himself on his elbows and sought a cadence of thrust and retreat that would please them both.

  She groaned, arching to meet him, driving him beyond awareness of anything but the glide of his flesh along her channel. He increased his tempo to match her demands, driving deeply, gritting his teeth in desperation to hold his seed until he could feel the tremors that told him she'd found her own pleasure.

  When she began to take little gasping breaths, he shifted positions, shoving his hands beneath her buttocks and tilting her hips upward. She stiffened all over with his second thrust, ceased to breathe for a long moment and then began to shudder and quake, uttering sharp cries of delight that raked through him and made his skin pebble all over.

  He groaned as he felt his own body convulse in response, struggled to continue stroking her until her cries reached a crescendo and began to taper off. Driving deeply then, he clutched her tightly, uttering a pained grunt as his body expelled his seed and finally went limp with relief when it stopped.

  He lay heavily against her, gasping for breath for several moments and finally managed to gather enough strength to pull his hands from beneath her hips and press his elbows into the mattress to ease some of his weight from her. She dragged in a deep breath the moment he did, cluing him to the fact that it wasn't just his imagination that he was crushing her.

  Gathering himself, he finally managed to roll off of her ... and damned near rolled off the bed. Rolling onto his side again when he discovered how close he was to the edge, he dropped an arm heavily across her waist, allowing himself to drift for several moments, basking in the sense of sated pleasure in the aftermath of his release.

  It didn't last nearly long enough, unfortunately.

  Even as she stirred, rolling to face him and snuggling closer to his warmth it dawned on him that he had gotten so caught up in the heat of the moment that he'd completely ignored his ‘code'.

  He never had sex with a woman that wasn't a werewolf, or at least knew what he was and came willingly to his bed with that knowledge.

  Mentally, he swore long and hard. It would've been bad enough if it had been any woman but Brooke....

  If his brother was right, though, and he was pretty sure Cole knew what he was talking about, she'd run to the island to escape the attentions of a werewolf.

  Now he was in a hell of a mess, damn Cole's hide!

  He fell asleep still trying to figure out what he was going to about the situation he'd landed himself in.

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  Chapter Five

  It was the cry of seagulls that roused Brooke from the depths of sleep. Groaning, she rolled over and pulled the cover over her head and then the pillow for good measure, struggling to grasp sleep again and pull herself under. Her senses expanded, however, her awareness of discomfort lifting her consciousness higher.

  The smell of fresh paint vied with the salty smell of the ocean crashing against the shore close enough she could feel the dampness in the air and in the sheets she was bound up in. Throwing the pillow and covers off finally, she stretched, yawned and opened her eyes.

  For a handful of moments, the unfamiliarity of her surroundings puzzled her ... and then her memories from the night before crowded into her mind. She rolled over abruptly, searching the bed for Dash. She didn't know whether to be glad or sorry, at first, when she discovered she was in the bed alone.

  Rolling onto her back again, she stared up at the ceiling, listening intently to the sounds around her, searching without conscious thought for some indication that Dash was somewhere in the bungalow with her while her mind replayed their night together.

  A shiver of remembered desire made its way through her, warmth fluttering in her belly as she recalled his kisses, his touch, the feel of him inside of her.

  It made her acutely aware of the uncomfortable stickiness between her thighs and she sat up to look down at herself in dawning dismay.

  The sundress she'd worn the night before was still twisted around her waist. The wantonness of it, coupled with the evidence of her folly between her thighs, cooled her blood so fast the next shiver that skated through her was cold, hard reality setting in.

  They hadn't used protection.

  It hadn't even crossed her mind.

  A twinge of anger surfaced. She hadn't been in any state to think clearly—she'd sought comfort in the wake of her fright as much as passion—but he certainly couldn't claim the same!

  Climbing from the bed, she headed to bathroom to clean up. The view of herself in the bathroom mirror certainly wasn't comforting. In point of fact, it added to her embarrassment.

  Particularly since Dash had disappeared before she even woke up!

  Removing her sundress, she turned the shower on and wasted some time trying to smooth the wrinkles from the dress before she finally had to acknowledge that it was hopeless.

  The best that she could hope for was that most of the guests were still in bed.

  She discovered, much to her dismay, that they weren't. When she'd bathed and combed the snarls from her hair, finally located her panties, and smoothed her dress the best she could, she had no choice but to head back to her own bungalow—clear across the resort.

  She looked liked she'd been laid. There was no getting around it and she garnered any number of interested glances as she walked briskly back to her own place. Try though she might to convince herself that it was all in her mind, that no one could just look at her guess that she'd spent the night in someone's bed, and that they were merely smiling in friendliness, not smirking, she couldn't.

  It was an adult resort. Half the people, or more, had probably spent the night the same way as she had—or bed hopping. She knew that was probably true, but it didn't make her feel any better.

  She looked like she had.

  She felt better when she'd finally reached the seclusion of her on cabin and changed out of her rumpled sundress into fresh clothes—not a lot better, but a little better.

  She settled in a chair on the balcony, staring at nothing in particular once she'd changed, trying to decide how she felt about what had happened beyond distressed
over the fact that they hadn't used protection.

  She realized after a while that she wasn't particularly distressed over the condom issue. Dash didn't strike her as a man who commonly had risky sex ... which begged the question of why he hadn't thought to use a condom the night before.

  Despite every effort to tamp the warmth that spread through her, she was only marginally successful once the thought occurred to her that he'd lost his head, that he'd been as wrapped up in the fiery heat that surged between them as she was.

  Why then had he left her without a word?

  Consideration? Could she just put it down to a reluctance to wake her when he had duties to attend to?

  There was no doubt in her mind that the resort consumed his time. Was she reading something into nothing? Feeling used and discarded when that hadn't been the case at all?

  Because she finally realized that was the main source of her anger and her discomfort. If she hadn't felt as if he'd simply taken what she offered and gone about his business, dismissing her, she didn't think she would've felt so self-conscious about anyone noticing. She didn't think she would've been quite so outdone about his lack of forethought in having unprotected sex.

  It wasn't as if he'd been expecting her, after all.

  And the truth was, she'd wanted him to do exactly what he'd done. She couldn't even excuse herself—not completely anyway—on the grounds that she'd been shaken by what had happened before. She'd been wanting him to kiss her, and a whole lot more, almost from the first moment she'd met him.

  She had been upset. She still didn't think it was nothing more than an over active imagination that had sent her fleeing to his bungalow for protection. Someone had been following her. Maybe their intention hadn't been to frighten her or hurt her, but she didn't think she'd imagined it, and she didn't think it was only a matter of someone who just happened to be going the same direction that she was.

  The sudden appearance of the wolf had been the crowning touch.