Werewolf in Greenwich Village: A Wild About You NovellaAn eSpecial from New American Library

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  The elevator lurched to a stop and Quentin opened the door with a screech of metal. “I’m warning you that the place is a mess.”

  “I can’t see whether it is or not.” She peered into the large, shadowy interior of the third floor. Faint light from the street filtered through the huge windows. “It’s too dark.”

  “Just hold my hand and walk close. The light switch is a little bit beyond the elevator.”

  She followed his instructions and stayed by his side as he took three steps out of the elevator and reached to his right. A soft click was followed by . . . rainbows.

  Her breath caught as she lifted her gaze to the most amazing crystal chandelier she’d ever seen, and she’d been in some pricey establishments. The chandelier hung from a long rod attached to a beam at least ten feet over their heads.

  She stared in awe. Hundreds of faceted crystals reflected the light, glittering above them and throwing splashes of colored light into the far corners of the cavernous space. “Where did you—”

  “A dilapidated mansion in the Hudson River Valley was being torn down and I had exactly one day to get this out of there. I thought of putting it in storage, but . . .” He shrugged. “I needed a light in here. Yeah, it’ll get covered with construction dust and I’ll have to clean it when the project’s done, but so what?”

  “You figured why put up with a bare bulb when you could have this?” Her hand still clasped in his, she turned to smile at him.

  He smiled back. “Right.”

  As they stood looking at each other, she couldn’t remember ever sharing a moment of such perfect understanding with anyone. In his world, as in hers, beauty came first, and practicality came second. The sense of connection gave her goose bumps that had nothing to do with sex. Well, maybe a little bit to do with sex.

  He squeezed her hand. “Now that you’re here, you might as well have the grand tour.”

  “I’d love that.”

  He took her around the perimeter and pointed out the chalk lines where walls would go. He’d roughed in one bathroom and installed both a toilet and sink, but he had yet to add the claw-foot tub he’d bought.

  His explanations grew more animated with each section of the tour. He’d laid out an eat-in kitchen and he planned to build his own cabinets from a cache of recycled barn wood he’d found in upstate New York.

  The master bedroom included a large window shaded by a venerable oak. Quentin spoke with enthusiasm about how the light came through the leaves and how beautiful that would be as they changed color in the next few weeks.

  “And you’re making the entire top floor into one unit?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Pricey rental.” She didn’t think for a moment that he was going to rent this loft. He’d designed it for himself and some lucky lady yet to be identified.

  Whoever he ended up with, that Were had better understand his creative spirit. She’d better know exactly why he’d chosen to hang the chandelier instead of putting it into storage, or Nadia didn’t give them much chance at happiness.

  “It won’t go cheap,” he said, “but the right person, or the right couple, won’t balk at the price. And I haven’t shown you the best part. This next area is actually furnished.” He took her to a back wall where the light from the chandelier didn’t reach.

  She made out the vague outline of a spiral staircase. “I thought we were already on the top floor.”

  “Ah, but there’s a roof, and whoever lives on the top floor has access to it from this stairway.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I’ll go first. Just stay close.”

  “Can I leave my purse down here?”

  “Sure. Hang it on the railing and we’ll pick it up on the way down.”

  Hooking the purse strap over the rail, she followed him up the metal staircase. Cool air rushed out when he opened a door at the top of the tiny landing. He stood outside on the roof and made sure she didn’t trip on the sill as she stepped through.

  Just like that, she was outside and four stories above the bustle of the city. Because she was in New York City, a town bristling with lights, she couldn’t see stars overhead. She could barely make out the moon, but it was there, a silver crescent shining directly above them.

  She smelled freshly turned earth and blooming plants before spotting the shadowy outline of a roof-top terrace. Four sturdy posts supported a lattice cover that would provide dappled shade by day. The terrace was furnished in rustic cedar, including a small table, two chairs, and two lounges.

  Stepping onto the wooden decking, she marveled at the array of fragrant flowers in pots and young trees in oversized planters. Quentin must have hired a crane to get the trees up here. Canvas cushions on the chairs and lounges smelled and looked new.

  “Hang on a second.” Releasing her hand, he opened a small chest that served as an end table and took out a butane lighter. In seconds he’d lighted several votives. “That’s better.”

  The flickering candlelight allowed her to see the yellow of the cushions and the color of the flowers, which were vivid red, yellow, and purple. She turned to Quentin, who looked quite pleased with himself. “This is a very romantic spot, you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “If there’s no girlfriend, then I assume you’re looking for one so you can wow her with this hideaway.” Nadia hoped that future girlfriend would appreciate how much work had gone into Quentin’s little bit of paradise on the roof.

  He laid the butane lighter on the chest and drew her into his arms. “Maybe I just want to wow a prospective tenant.”

  “If I thought I’d spend enough time in New York to justify the cost, I’d rent it from you in a heartbeat. You had me with the chandelier.”

  He nestled her closer. “So do it.”

  He was aroused, his erection straining the denim of his jeans. Moisture gathered between her thighs as her body reacted to his. She wound her arms around his neck and breathed in his woodsy male scent. “I won’t be here often enough.” Although more frequent trips would be a great excuse to see Quentin . . .

  He cupped her bottom and brought her in tight. “I could make it worth your while.”

  Heat flooded through her at the thought of coming to New York to enjoy more nights like this. “You’re tempting me.”

  “That’s the idea.” His mouth found hers, and the time for discussion was definitely over.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kissing Nadia was like Christmas and his birthday rolled into one. Quentin had fantasized about kissing her for so long that the reality could have been a letdown. It wasn’t.

  Savoring her mouth and using his tongue to tell her of his ultimate intentions, he gave thanks for his dual nature. Being able to take either human or wolf form meant he’d have twice the pleasure of making love to her.

  Weres enjoyed a rich sex life. Besides being able to experience both wolf and human sex, Weres had no need for condoms. They were immune to disease and couldn’t create offspring unless they’d committed to a mate for life.

  He wanted to begin their sexual adventure in human form so that he could appreciate her hot mouth and her soft skin. But he also craved the deep satisfaction of joining as wolves. That might not happen tonight, but maybe, just maybe, there were other nights in their future.

  Having her rent this loft was a new and exciting concept, one that could work out nicely for both of them, at least until she chose a mate. In the meantime, he could be her very accommodating landlord.

  But that was a future dream. The present was far more tantalizing as he began undressing her. She was heaven to touch as he skimmed away the orange number that had been driving him crazy all night.

  It came off easily, as if she’d designed it that way. After he’d unfastened a couple of ties, it slid down to pool at her feet like melted sherbet.

  Releasing her for a brief moment, he leaned over, gathered up her dress, and laid it on the arm of a chair. Something that special should be treated wit
h care.

  He turned back to discover that she’d unfastened her bra. His breath caught. Holding his gaze, she slowly revealed her high, perfectly formed breasts. They quivered slightly as she tossed the bra to the same chair that held her dress. Her lithe beauty robbed him of speech.

  As he watched in total fascination, afraid that at any moment he’d awake from this dream, she shimmied out of her silk panties. They joined her other clothes on the chair.

  That left her standing before him, a vision of rosy skin and dark glossy hair, wearing only her very high, very sexy, silver heels. She started to slip them off.

  “No, don’t.” His voice was hoarse with lust. “I love those shoes on you.”

  She laughed, a husky sound filled with feminine power and desire. “I thought you loved the dress on me, too.”

  “I do, but the dress was in the way.” His gaze swept over her, memorizing each slender curve gilded by candlelight. “The shoes aren’t.”

  “If you say so.” She gestured toward him. “You’re way behind.”

  “Easily fixed.” He pulled his shirt over his head without unbuttoning it and nudged off his loafers.

  “Wait.”

  “Wait?” He paused in confusion.

  “What if I want you to keep your shoes on?”

  She was teasing him, and that was okay. They probably needed to dial back the intensity if they expected to come out of this in one piece, able to walk away from each other when circumstances changed. “You wearing high heels while I do you is provocative. Me wearing loafers while you do me, not so much.” He unzipped his jeans.

  “Says you.”

  “Says anybody with any sense.” He shoved his jeans and briefs down over his almost painful erection and stepped out of them. Then he quickly pulled off both socks, which weren’t any sexier than the loafers had been.

  Her eyes shone as she gazed at him. Then she took a long, shaky breath and smiled. “You’re right. Don’t change a thing.”

  A gentle breeze swirled around them, immersing him in her exotic scent. If he were in wolf form, he would have howled at the moon. Then he could have taken her without worrying about where they were standing.

  But he was not a wolf at the moment, and that meant they needed a soft surface. “Sorry, but I have to change one thing.”

  “I hope you’re not planning to tie me up, because wearing my heels is about as far into kink as I go on a first date.”

  He snorted with laughter. “No ropes.” Turning toward the chaise, he pulled the yellow cushion off and laid it on the cedar decking.

  Then he held out his hand. Despite the way she’d joked around earlier, her hand trembled in his. He focused on her beautiful gray eyes as he guided her down to the cushion.

  Her hair spread out over it, strands of black silk against the yellow canvas cushion. He marveled that she was here, and that a moment he’d decided might never happen was unfolding.

  Leaning over her, he began a slow exploration with his mouth and tongue. All the while, her heady fragrance assailed him, tearing at his careful restraint. Then she began touching him, stroking with her magical, creative hands.

  She caressed his shoulders and ran her hands down his biceps as he braced himself above her. With deliberate intent, she pressed her palm to his heart. “Your heart’s beating very fast.”

  “I know.” He looked into her eyes. “I’ve wanted this for a long, long time. I’ve dreamed of you, Nadia.”

  She brushed her thumbs over his nipples. “Wet dreams?”

  “Wench.” Laughing, he lowered his head to her breasts, but as he kissed her there, all laughter faded. She was amazing, and she’d allowed him to worship her naked body. He was humbled.

  But not so humbled that he couldn’t enjoy the bounty she offered him. Arching upward, she lifted her breasts as if begging for more.

  His cock ached with the need to bury itself deep within her, but he held off so that he could feast upon her breasts. He felt himself going a little crazy as he nuzzled her satin skin and the nubby enticement of her nipples.

  She’d opened the gates to her private playground, and he wanted to sample every wonder there. Kissing his way down the valley between her ribs, he flicked his tongue into the tiny indentation of her navel and was rewarded with a soft moan.

  She might expect him to seek the treasures beneath her dark curls next, but he wanted to save that for last. Instead he nibbled the inside of her thighs and caressed the length of her slender calves until he reached . . . the shoes.

  They were designed with a series of straps that left her toes bare. Kneeling by her feet, he circled her ankle with his fingers and lifted her foot so that he could plant kisses on each delicate, polished toe.

  Her giggle turned to a sigh as he slowly unbuckled the shoe and slipped it off. Massaging her feet, he ran his tongue between each toe and listened as her breathing grew ragged.

  “That’s . . . nice,” she murmured.

  “Glad you like it.” He lowered her bare foot and moved to the base of the cushion before he grasped her other ankle and lifted her toes to his mouth. By the time he’d removed her second shoe and had used both thumbs to massage the soles of her foot, her body had become languid and ripe for total surrender.

  That was exactly how he wanted her as he slid back up the cushion between her parted legs. He breathed in the rich scent of desire and touched his tongue to her moist heat.

  She groaned. “Please,” she murmured. “Oh, please.”

  As if he would stop now. Bracketing her hips with both hands, he held her steady as he pleasured her. She writhed in his grip and her soft cries grew in intensity. He trembled, fighting the pressure of his own climax, wanting to give her this before he lost control.

  Tunneling her fingers through his hair, she pressed against his scalp, arched off the cushion, and came in a glorious rush. He savored the nectar of her orgasm until the need for release drove him to rise to his hands and knees.

  Panting, he lowered his hips, sought her slick entrance, and pushed deep. She clenched around him and he sucked in a breath, determined not to come until he’d coaxed her to a second orgasm.

  Struggling for sanity, he looked into her amazing gray eyes. He’d imagined those eyes in the midst of lovemaking, but his imagination hadn’t gone far enough. Her eyes gleamed with a fire so intense it stole his breath.

  Her fingertips dug into his shoulders. “Quentin.”

  His world shifted. This was not some unfocused desire on her part. She wanted him. Her passion—hot, dark, potent—shook him to the depths of his soul.

  Drawing back, he began to thrust. Nothing mattered but the need to pound into her, to feel her squeeze his cock again and again. She caught his rhythm and rose to meet him as the small garden filled with the sound of their joy.

  They reached the summit together, in perfect sync, and he held her tight as their bodies bucked and quivered. At last, gasping for breath, he lowered her gently back to the cushion. He sank down with her, sated in a way he’d never been before.

  So good. And yet . . . so bad. Nadia was supposed to be a sexy diversion. After what they’d just shared, that concept was laughable. She was more, so much more. And he wasn’t laughing.

  Nadia lay staring up through the lattice above her at the inky sky. Quentin’s head rested next to hers on the cushion, his breath warm against her ear. He was mostly relaxed, but as she stroked his muscled back, she felt the slight tension caused by keeping his weight from crushing her.

  Besides being a glorious lover, he was a considerate one, too. Dear heaven, she’d never had sex like this. She wanted to credit the seductive atmosphere—the scent of flowers, the glow of candlelight, the unseasonably warm night. But she knew it was all about Quentin.

  His lovemaking was pitch-perfect. He’d excited her as no one had ever done, and she wasn’t sure why, exactly. But every move he’d made had felt so right, as if she’d finally found someone who knew what she wanted, what she needed, without having t
o ask.

  “Are you okay?” His murmured question tickled her ear.

  “Yes and no.”

  He raised his head and peered down at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Not a single thing. And that’s . . . a potential problem.”

  His chest heaved. “I understand.”

  “I didn’t expect . . .”

  “Me, either.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I mean, I knew we’d be good together, but . . .”

  “Not this good.”

  “Right.”

  “Maybe . . . maybe I should go back to my hotel.” She didn’t want to leave. Not ever. That was another sign that she was in trouble.

  “Yeah. Big meeting tomorrow.” He gazed down at her. “When do you go home?”

  She reached up and finger-combed his tousled hair in an age-old feminine gesture of affection. “I’ll be here two more nights, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He smiled down at her. “That’s what I’m asking. I know you have to leave now, but I’m hoping we can do this again. And the sooner, the better.”

  “Aren’t you worried about getting really attached to each other?”

  “Hell, yes, I’m worried. But just so you know, I’m not the cautious type who will forgo present pleasure because it could lead to future pain. You, on the other hand, said you’re always careful. So maybe you don’t want to risk—”

  “If I’m going to be in the same city with you tomorrow night, I want to be in the same bed with you.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” He leaned down and kissed her, taking his time about it.

  Her body began to respond, and she cupped his face, forcing his mouth away. “I really do have to go.”

  “I know. Sorry. But when I kiss you, I seem to forget everything else.”

  “So do I.”

  He eased away from her. “I promise not to do it again until we both have our clothes on and I’ve called a cab.”

  “Tomorrow night we can plan better.” She sat up.

  “We’ll go to my place.” He held out his hand and helped her stand. “If you bring what you need for the next day’s schedule, you won’t have to go back to the hotel.”