Werewolf in Denver

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “I mean it.” She sounded slightly winded. “Get in there and fix yourself a plate.”

  He could smell the food, although her scent was the most important one to him at the moment. She looked very earnest and determined, though. He turned and walked into her living area, his steps silent on the thick carpet.

  She had windows galore, including a big corner one to his left, and the curtains were open. Although it was dark outside, he could see a row of lights running down a snowy hillside. “What are the lights for?”

  “Night skiing. The season came early this year, and they’re still setting up, but they turned on the lights tonight and I thought you’d enjoy looking out.”

  “Thanks.” He was strung tighter than a hunting bow and he made a conscious effort to relax his shoulders. “Nice place. Very nice place.”

  No walls divided the sparkling white kitchen on his left from the living area to his right, probably so she could take full advantage of the views from every window. On the far right wall, a wood fire crackled in a decent-sized stone fireplace flanked by two tall bookshelves. A cushy red leather sofa and two easy chairs faced both the fireplace and a flat-screen television that was about twice the size of the one in his room.

  She’d set out the food on a bar-height counter that enclosed most of the kitchen area. Tall stools were spaced along one side. The view from the corner window had to be spectacular in the daytime. She’d fit a good-sized desk neatly into the space in front of it, and when she worked there, she’d have a one-eighty panorama.

  He tried valiantly to look at her surroundings as a casual visitor might, but instead he saw everything in terms of whether it would be a good spot for sex. The carpet had already passed muster, and although the red leather sofa might be too slippery, he liked the idea of that cushioned surface. The desk, once cleared, had potential, as did the barstools.

  His body grew hard as he cataloged the possibilities. And this wasn’t even the main room for what he had in mind. Through a double doorway he glimpsed the edge of her bed. He just knew it was a king. A suite like this wouldn’t have anything smaller.

  “Let me take your briefcase so you can fix yourself something to eat.”

  As she walked toward him, hand outstretched, he remembered that he was still holding the damned thing. He’d been standing there like a granite statue, and right now his cock felt as if it had been turned to stone. He allowed her to take the briefcase, but it meant she’d moved close enough for him to breathe in her scent.

  Holy hell. She was as aroused as he was.

  He cleared his throat. “Look, I have an idea.”

  She walked over to her desk and laid his briefcase on it. “I know you do.” She turned back to him and leaned her hips against the desk. “I can see the evidence in the fit of your jeans.”

  “Don’t be so smug. You’re no better off.”

  “I know it!” Her voice was a soft wail. “I’ve tried to put sex out of my mind. It’s like telling yourself not to think about a pink elephant, and then that’s all you can think about. I thought maybe if we ate some food…”

  “I don’t care a thing about food right now and neither do you.”

  Her gaze met his. “No, I don’t.”

  His heart thudded heavily in his chest. “I think we should have sex and get it over with.”

  “You suppose that will work?”

  “I don’t know, but I can hardly remember my own name, let alone what we’re supposed to be doing instead of having sex. I need you something fierce.”

  “I guess we could try it.” Turning toward the desk, she hit a button, and all the drapes began to close as she walked toward him. “Where?”

  He could barely breathe from wanting her, let alone walk anywhere. His voice sounded like gravel running through a chute as he nudged off his shoes. “Right here on the carpet would suit me fine, lass.”

  Chapter 11

  Sniffer Update: @newshound—H. Wallace instructed K. Stillman, D. MacDowell to turn off phones. No Sniffs till they’re done. Hope it’s soon! #sniffless

  Clothes flew everywhere. Kate couldn’t get out of hers fast enough, and she noticed that Duncan apparently felt the same.

  “This is not what you recommend in your book.” He shoved down his jeans and knit boxers and kicked them aside.

  “Ask me if I care. Damn, my zipper’s stuck.”

  “I’ll get it. I’m done.” He knelt in front of her and grasped the tab on the zipper. “You smell delicious. Hey, it really is stuck.”

  “That could be a problem.”

  He continued to work with it, his breathing ragged. “How much do you care about these jeans?”

  “Right now? Not at all.”

  “I’ll remind you of that, later.” Grabbing hold of the waistband, he wrenched the zipper forcibly apart, ruining it and ripping the denim.

  She couldn’t bring herself to care as he pulled both her jeans and her panties to her ankles, slid his hands up the backs of her thighs, and urged her toward him.

  “Step out of them.” His murmured command ruffled her damp curls.

  She clutched his bare shoulders. No sooner had she freed herself from her clothes than he made contact with his tongue. She moaned softly and trembled in anticipation, knowing full well what he intended.

  “This is what I was hungry for.” Sinking lower onto his knees, he tilted his head back slightly, nuzzled his way between her thighs, and began a slow assault on her sanity.

  Closing her eyes, she reveled in the sensuality of a kiss more intimate than any other. Soon she was mindless with pleasure. When he slowed the pace and teased her with featherlight swipes of his tongue, she shamelessly begged for what she wanted, what she desperately needed.

  And he gave it. Settling in with his talented mouth and tongue, he gripped her thighs and pushed her closer, and closer still. She began to quiver, and he held her steady, building the tension relentlessly, until at last, with a triumphant cry, she lost all sense of time and place as she tumbled into a raging river of ecstasy.

  Guiding her slowly and tenderly to her knees, he kissed her breasts, her throat, and finally her lips. The erotic taste of her climax flavored their kiss, and the thrum of new passion stirred in her veins. Incredibly, she wasn’t sated.

  His sweet caress, molding her breasts with his palms, sliding his hands over her back to cup her bottom, roused her again. She whimpered and arched her body to brush her sensitized nipples against his chest.

  “Aye.” His words were rough with passion and his brogue grew thicker. “You’ll be wanting more pleasure, lass. And I’ll be putting you in charge this time. Spread your legs apart. I long to lie beneath you on this fine carpet while you ride me.”

  The exotic sound of his voice blended with his explicit request fired her blood in a way she’d never felt before. A wildness overtook her, and when he slid both legs between hers and lay back on the carpet, his eyes glittering with lust, she vowed to give him a ride he’d remember.

  But first, she would tease him as he’d teased her. His cock thrust upward, sleek and hard, ready for her to mount. Her womb ached for that connection, but she would delay her need so that she could drive all rational thought from his mind as he’d done with her.

  Leaning over him, she swayed back and forth, brushing her taut nipples against his straining erection.

  He gasped. “Careful. I might…” He sucked in another breath.

  “Would that be so bad?” She continued to provoke him, although she paid the price, too, as the urge to take him deep inside her grew stronger with every casual touch.

  “Aye, ’twould be bad.”

  She loved hearing him become more Scottish the lustier he became. “Then let’s try this.” She used her mouth on him, instead.

  His groan was pure male. “I canna stand it, lassie! I dinna mean for you to…ah…Saints preserve us…. You’ll do me in for sure….”

  She paused to gaze at him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw clenched
so hard the veins stood out in his powerful neck. “You don’t like it?”

  “I dinna say that.”

  “Then I’ll proceed.” She continued to lick and nibble while she cradled his sizable balls, one in each hand.

  He breathed rapidly through clenched teeth. “Have mercy on me, Kate. ’Tis enough, now.”

  “All right. If you insist.” Truthfully, she couldn’t wait any longer, either. Straddling him, she braced her arms on either side of his broad shoulders and gradually took him in, savoring every magnificent inch, every point of contact that made her body sing with joy.

  He remained tense beneath her, every muscle braced to prevent the eruption he’d been fighting, probably ever since he walked through her door. She understood. From the moment she’d opened that door, her body had yearned for this.

  When she’d taken every last glorious bit of him, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his tight mouth. It softened, opened, invited her tongue inside, and as she deepened the kiss, she lifted her hips gently.

  He moaned, the sound caught between their seeking mouths.

  Lowering her hips again, she began an easy rhythm as she continued to bestow those soul-deep kisses. The sensuality of it washed over her in waves, threatening to bring on her orgasm before she’d meant that to happen.

  When he grasped her hips in his big hands, she knew that her illusion of control was about to be destroyed. No matter. She was ready for him to set the pace. And set it he did, with a vengeance.

  Soon he was pounding into her with a rapid, steady beat that made her whole body shudder, and she loved it. She abandoned their kiss and lifted her head to discover his eyes were open and he was looking straight into hers with an intensity that sent shock waves through her system.

  His lips barely moved, but his words were clear. “Come, lass. Come now.”

  As if she needed only his command, her body began convulsing around his. He gave her a brief smile, and then he drove harder and faster than ever, before arching upward with a strangled cry of victory. As they collapsed together on the thick carpet, she imagined that same cry could have been on the lips of his ancestors as they charged into battle, naked and painted blue.

  She lay with her ear to his chest and listened, for the second time in two nights, to his steady heartbeat. She couldn’t have explained why that thrilled her so, but it did. This Scotsman and his endearing brogue, not to mention his virile body, might have spoiled her for anyone else.

  As Duncan lay there assessing the situation, he came up with two conclusions, neither of them particularly helpful to his long-term goals. He would definitely replace the carpeting in his quarters at the castle with something more like this. And he doubted that he’d ever find a more passionate female, Were or human, than Kate Stillman.

  The first conclusion wouldn’t cause much of a problem in his life, but it wouldn’t affect his future much, either. The second conclusion was rather more important, because he had always assumed that he’d walk the walk of Woofer principles and prove a fitting example by successfully mating with a human as the Wallace brothers had done. If he hadn’t found the right person yet, he’d had no doubt that he would, given enough time.

  Now he feared that he could take until doomsday and he still wouldn’t come up with a human female to match Kate. That was a problem. And even if he threw over his whole plan and decided to consider her, she wouldn’t have him. He was not just a Woofer—he was King of the Woofers, and she wasn’t about to pledge her life to someone who opposed her belief that Weres should mate exclusively with other Weres.

  Dealing with her convictions would be equally awkward for him. She’d want to push her agenda in every area of her life. She’d made a career out of fostering Were-only dating and mating, and the very existence of Furthebest.com set his teeth on edge. He didn’t object to Weres mating with Weres as an option, but her site insisted that was the only acceptable option.

  And yet…she felt perfect in his arms. When their bodies spoke, they did so in perfect harmony. What a cruel joke. Physically, even temperamentally, they fit together. They had a similar work ethic. They just worked for completely different outcomes. Damn it.

  “You’re thinking.” She nuzzled his chest. “I can almost hear it.”

  “I am thinking. Want to know what I’m thinking about?”

  “I’m not sure. Is it going to be helpful to our situation?”

  He sighed. “Probably not.”

  “Then don’t tell me. I’m still drifting on a cloud of sexual bliss, and I don’t want to be disturbed unless it’s good news.”

  “So you only want good news?” He wrapped his arms around her luscious body, enjoying the feel of her warm, silky skin.

  “Yes, please.”

  “I haven’t had sex that good in years. I might even go so far as to say in forever.”

  She laughed. “And I’ll tell you why.”

  “I’ll wager you will.”

  “We had Were sex, which means no worries about those silly condoms, no worries about disease. We could enjoy each other in any way we pleased, including oral sex.”

  “I did especially like that part.” He hated to admit that having sex without worrying about the issues that plagued humans had been damned good.

  “I know we didn’t do this for any reason other than because we couldn’t help ourselves, but now I wonder if we didn’t just make a good point for my side.”

  “That’s depressing.”

  She nipped his shoulder lightly. “No, it’s not. It’s wonderful. I advanced my cause without trying. That makes me very happy.”

  “Well, very happy lass, are you ready to move your sweet arse and get some work done?” He gave her a playful pinch.

  “You claimed that if we did this, we might have a chance of accomplishing something.” She braced her arm on his chest and lifted up to gaze down at him. “So it’s time to put your money where your mouth is, as they say over here.”

  He gave her his best evil grin. “That could be interesting, especially if I put my money where my mouth was not too many minutes ago.”

  “Let’s not focus on that, shall we?” But she looked as if she’d love to. “We have a mission statement to create.” She disentangled herself and stood.

  Duncan, however, remained sprawled on the floor gazing up at her. He couldn’t seem to summon the energy to move. The carpet really was comfortable.

  “Come on, laddie. Up you go.”

  He glanced upward. Ah, very nice. “With the view from here, I may be up in no time.”

  “That does it.” She reached down and picked up his clothes. “You’re officially incorrigible.” She tossed his clothes at him. “When I come back into this room, you’d better be dressed, or else.”

  He laughed and sat up. “Or else what?” He found the pencil that had fallen out of her topknot and tossed it to her. “We’ll get to do this all over again?”

  “I think not, Woofer.” She caught the pencil and stuck it back in her hair.

  “You look cute with that pencil in your hair.”

  “I like having a pencil around when I’m working. Sometimes it helps to write something down. You know, old-school, on actual paper.” She gathered up her clothes.

  She was fast taking up residence in his heart without even trying. “That suits you. A touch of nostalgia.”

  “It’s more than that. It’s a useful tool.” She hugged her clothes to her chest. “I don’t believe in abandoning ideas because they’ve been around for a while.”

  “I get that. But sometimes—”

  “You need to get dressed, Duncan. We can’t have this discussion naked.”

  “I think it would go much better if we did.” He winked at her, hoping to see her smile.

  Instead she gazed at him as if he were a schoolboy who wouldn’t behave.

  “I know. We have to get serious.” His good spirits began to slip away. “I just hope…”

  “What?” she asked softly. “That
our discussion doesn’t change the mood? Because it will.”

  Maybe they should run away, leave the convention, abandon their respective causes, and…be unable to live with themselves. Bloody hell. “Why did we have to end up on opposite sides of the fence, Kate? Can you tell me what sort of karmic debt we owe that arranged for that?”

  “No, Duncan, I can’t. But it’s the reality of the situation, and somehow we have to work it out.”

  He nodded. “We will, lass.” But as the glow from their lovemaking faded, he’d already begun to dread the battle ahead of them.

  “Be right back. I need to grab a different pair of jeans and freshen up.”

  And put on your armor. “All right.” He figured she also wanted to create some space, both physical and psychological, between their lovemaking and the task they were about to tackle. That was probably a good idea. “I’ll be happy to buy you a new pair of jeans before I leave.”

  “No, no. I have too many pairs of jeans, anyway.” She paused. “When are you flying out? I never thought to ask.”

  He didn’t like thinking about that. It was already Saturday night, which left him far too little time in Colorado with Kate. “First thing Monday morning.” He’d been so involved with her that he’d pushed that information to the back of his mind. Their relationship had become so intense so fast that he couldn’t get his mind around the idea of leaving her.

  “Right. Monday.” Her expression became thoughtful, and then she seemed to give herself a mental shake. “Well, the clock’s ticking. Be right back.”

  The clock was indeed ticking, but when he was with her, he lost all sense of time. He couldn’t afford to do that this weekend, with all that he hoped to accomplish. He needed to refocus on his goals.

  Once she was out of the room, he stood and quickly got dressed. He left off his shoes and socks, though. She’d come to the door barefoot, after all, and wearing shoes while walking on an amazing carpet was a waste of luxury.

  The food on the raised counter surrounding the kitchen looked more interesting to him than it had earlier, so he wandered over, picked up a plate, and began filling it. Several platters contained bite-sized items suitable for a cocktail party or a serious working dinner. He’d discovered at the lunch banquet that Stillman Lodge had an excellent chef.