Snow's Seduction (A Snow White Werewolf Tale)

by Kristin Miller

  Elation whips through me, but I keep my libido in check before I tackle her to the ground and fuck her with finesse, right on the floor.

  “Didn’t think I’d see you again tonight.” I can’t help but smile. “Malcolm turn out to be a two-second Sam?”

  “What? No.” After doing a quick scan of the lodge, Snow heads straight for the fridge, snatches a Guinness, pops the top, and downs half in one swig. I try not to gawk, but damn. She’s frantic, eyes pinched closed as she clutches the bottle like she’s hanging on for dear life.

  “Everything all right?” I hold back a laugh. “Want to sit down?”

  Shaking her head, she detaches one hand from the bottle, holds up her finger to signal “one more minute,” only to dive in again. As she hits the bottom, she sighs, slams the bottle on the counter, and meets my eyes.

  “Do you think I’m sexy?” she fires.

  I flinch, but not because I don’t want to answer the question. It simply caught me off guard. “Considering the game of Clitar Hero we played in the closet, I’d say hell yeah. You’re a babe.”

  It’s the truth. And it’s one of the things I always appreciated about our friendship. We were open and honest, telling it as it was. No pressure. We were able to acknowledge the good looks of the other without it being weird or changing things. Five years later, and we’re picking up where we left off. As if no time has passed at all. Except now, benefits are on the table.

  And I can’t wait to go all in.

  She blows out a shaky breath. Something is bothering her. Something big. I’d know the pinch in her brow anywhere.

  “I feel like I can’t breathe,” she says, holding her stomach. “Is it hot in here?”

  I’d wager it’s hot in any room she steps in.

  “Let’s head outside.” I grab two beers, wrap my arm around her shoulder, and lead her onto the porch. “Fresh air will do you good.”

  Stealing the beer from my hand, she settles on the edge of the porch bench, her red dress flaring out beneath her. She brushes a hand over her thigh and studies the wooden deck planks, the forest beyond the lodge, the full moon shining overhead. And then she gulps down another drink.

  “Where have you been all these years?” she snaps. “Are you back for good? I mean, are you staying, or are you leaving after the ceremony?”

  “Rapid Fire. All right.” I nod slowly. “I’ve been traveling the world from ski lodge to ski lodge. Buying ones that were in trouble, fixing them up, and operating them until they’re successful. Then I move on to the next. I’ve been chasing adventure from Costa Rica to the Himalayas and back again.”

  “And then?”

  “I’m due in Iceland on Tuesday.”

  “So you’re leaving right after the ceremony.”

  “Pretty much.” After I pass along the gift from her father. I ache to give it to her now, but swore to him I would wait. After delaying it five years, what’s another two days? “What’s bothering you, Snow? Do you really want to know every detail of where I’ve been for the last few years? Because we can sit out here and bullshit over beers, and I can tell you adventure stories that’ll make your head spin. But I don’t think that’s what you’re doing here.”

  She stares at the forest beyond the porch, killing her drink with a ferocity saved for drunkards.

  “Snow, I wouldn’t dare to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but you might want to consider taking it easy. Those are going to hit you hard and—”

  “Do you think I could seduce you?” Her cheeks flush pink. “I mean, do you think I’m capable of seducing someone—anyone? Like a bajillionaire, let’s say. You know, for argument’s sake.”

  My next swallow of Guinness shoots down the wrong pipe. I choke, her words ringing through my head. “Do you not remember the closet incident? I couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

  And if we weren’t talking right now, I’d be climbing all over her. Driving inside her. Pinning her beneath me as she takes every hard inch of me into her heat.

  “Yeah, but I’m not talking about your eagerness to grope a stranger in the closet. That’s true to Hunter form.”

  I frown at her beneath my brow. “How so?”

  She tilts her head at me. “Come on. You’re a manwhore. You’d play Five Minutes in Heaven with anyone willing.”

  “Ouch.” I plant my hand over my chest. “That hurts.”

  “It’s the truth. Your reputation for being a playboy reached this estate long before you did. Doesn’t take much to get your engine revving. And you didn’t answer my question.” Her voice echoes through the night. “Do you think I’m a seductress? That I could be that person?”

  Leaning back on the porch rail, I cross one ankle over the other and take a stiff drink. “Definitely. I think you could seduce anyone you wanted, pompous prick or not.”

  She narrows her eyes at me over the mouth of her beer as if she doesn’t believe what I’ve just said.

  But it’s the truth. Now that I’ve seen her on her best game, I can attest to it. She walked right up to me and caught my attention when I was already drowning in a room full of perfume and estrogen. It’s not an easy feat. Before, when we were friends, I’d thought Snow was innocent. Sweet and delicate. And she is. But underneath that prim and proper exterior, she’s burning.

  Someone simply needs to show her how to fan the flames.

  While I’m here, I’m happy to step up to the plate.

  “What happened with Malcolm Taylor after I left?” The corners of her mouth dip into a frown, and I have the insane urge to lick them upward again. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying to get into his pants or something? I mean, if you don’t want to use the same closet, I’m sure there are others just as suitable.”

  She huffs into a sigh and leans back onto the bench. “He called me ‘sweetheart.’”

  “So what?”

  “He patted me on the shoulder.”

  “Not seeing the problem here.” I take a stiff drink. “You weren’t expecting him to jump your bones the second you met him, were you?”

  “Not expecting, but hoping, maybe.” Kinking her neck to the side, she quirks her lips at me. “But then…he asked me to fix his toilet.”

  “Dude,” I spat, disgust recoiling through my stomach, “I’ve heard of dirty sex games, but that’s fucked up.”

  “No, not like that.” She empties her second beer. “He thought I was one of the workers. We didn’t start off on the right foot, and because of that, he doesn’t see me the right away.” She pauses, picking at the label of her beer. “I know the kind of woman he wants: perfectly flowing hair, lush lips, toned in the right places and curvy in others.”

  I nod decidedly. “Sexy from toes to tits.”

  “You are so crude. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.” She puts up her hand. “Anyway, I saw the women on his arm tonight. He wants a temptress. A seductress. I think I could really like him, that we might be able to have something great—at least, I thought those things until the toilet incident—but I’m rambling on and on,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I hate it when I do this. I simply don’t know if he’s going to see me as that kind of person—one he wants.”

  Tension ratcheting up my spine, I kneel in front of her and lift her chin with my fingers. Rather than meet my gaze, she takes another drink. And then another.

  “Who cares about this guy, Snow?”

  “I do,” she blurts, tossing the wrapper to the ground.

  “But if you’re not his type, why not tell him to piss off and find someone who thinks you’re dead sexy?”

  “Because he’s the perfect guy. I’ve had my eye on him since he first joined the pack, and I swear there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s good-looking, hard-working, intelligent, and funny….” She finally levels me with a heated stare. “He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a husband. And he told me to meet him in his room at midnight.”

  “Well, there you have it. He’s serving his dick on a platter.
” I grin at Snow, even as my heart gives an odd clench. I don’t want to think about Snow being with Malcolm. He doesn’t deserve her. But really, no one does. Ignoring the ache spreading through my chest, I clasp my hands together and slide onto the seat next to her. “Why are you so worried?”

  “You know how they say you only have once chance to make a good impression? I might’ve spoiled mine. If I can, I’d like to change his image of me. I was hoping you would…you know…”

  “What?”

  “Show me how you do it?”

  “How I do what, exactly?”

  Her head sways side to side as if she’s indecisive and struggling to form words. Or maybe it’s the alcohol fuzzing with her head. “Seducing women comes so easily for you. You used to have those raging parties, and the women would come back to the estate talking about nothing but you and your friends. I know you’re, like, a Don Juan or something. You drive women crazy and get them eating out of the palm of your hand.”

  She goes silent, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. I wait for her to finish, because I can’t fathom where she’s going with this.

  “Well, that’s what I want from Malcolm Taylor,” she says in a rush. “First, I need to know if he’s as great as I think he is. And then, if I’m right, I need to know how to drive him crazy. I want to stand out among his non-stop lineup of bimbos, and you’re the only one who can help me. You’ve got a gift, Hunter. And I want you to give it to me.”

  The blood drains from my face.

  Give it to me.

  Four words my johnson loves to hear.

  “You want me to tell you how to seduce him?” I ask, clarifying, to be certain this is truly what she wants.

  “No,” she whispers. “I want you to show me.”

  “Why me?”

  She sighs. “Because I’m comfortable with you. It’s not weird touching you or anything, and after what happened in the closet, I know I could learn a lot from you. You’re good. Really good, actually.”

  Blood rushes hot in my ears. “Why, thank you, I—”

  “But that’s not the main reason,” she blurts, interrupting me. “It has to be you because you’re leaving after this weekend. It won’t be awkward between us later when I’m with Malcolm and we have to see you around every full moon.”

  Realization cracks through me like a whip. “That’s why you were so eager to find out when I was leaving.”

  She nods quickly. “What do you say, master of seduction? Will you show me what I need to know?”

  Never thought I’d hear those words come out of her mouth.

  “Please don’t call me master. I’m not about to dive into a Dom role with you.” Not that I wouldn’t, because that kind of sex is fun as hell, but that’ll come later. It’s baby steps with Snow. If she wants to nail Malcolm, she’ll have to work on a few things before we get there. “If we’re doing this, there’s no alcohol involved.”

  “What?” She clutches the near-empty bottle to her chest. “I don’t know that I’m brave enough to handle this without it.”

  “Then you aren’t ready,” I say simply. “If you’re going to do this, your head has to be clear. Seduction isn’t about getting plastered so that your inhibitions take a hike and you feel as if you can do whatever you normally wouldn’t. It’s not about that at all. Seduction is an art. You have to be the one in control, the one making the rules, and you can’t do that if you’re drunk.”

  “See, I knew you could do this.” Eyes wide, Snow slides to the edge of the seat and sits with her back straight, hands clasped in her lap, like an eager pupil. She’s seriously the most adorable woman I’ve ever seen. “No beer.” She hands it over. “I’m listening.”

  “There are three rules.”

  “Only three?” Mimicking, she holds up four fingers, and then laughs, sticking out her thumb. “This is going to be much easier than I thought. I was good in school. Do you remember?”

  “Yes.” Chuckling, I slide closer. “I do.”

  I remember her schoolgirl outfits through the teenage years, too. Plaid shirts unbuttoned enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. Super-short pleaded skirts. Knee-high stockings. Shiny black heels.

  It’s enough to kill a man…or fuel his fantasies for the next five years.

  “First rule of seduction,” I say, turning toward her, brushing my thigh against hers, “is you have to become a physical lure.”

  “Like in fishing?” Beaming, she pretends to cast out a line and reels it back. “Those silver and red sparkling things were always so pretty, flopping around in the water.”

  “Yeah, just like fishing. But we’re catching Malcolm Taylor, who could have any woman he wants, so it’s more complicated. It’s not only about dressing up this way, though you look radiant tonight. It’s about what’s underneath.”

  “My panties? You know I’m not wearing any.”

  Oh, holy hades. My thoughts tangle around our interlude in the closet and how fucking hot that was. Every muscle in my body had been drawn so tight I could’ve burst through my skin. And when I found her bare—good Lord—I could’ve died right there.

  “I never wear anything underneath,” she says shyly.

  “Never?” My mouth goes bone-dry as I grip her thigh. “You—you’re always nude? I thought it might’ve been a one-time thing.”

  She shrugs her dainty shoulders. “It’s more comfortable that way.”

  I should have guessed Snow would prefer to be comfortable rather than sexy. When we knew each other before, I imagined she wore oversize white granny panties. But now I’m thinking about all the times she’s been in the lodge, on my couch, at my table, in my room, and she’s been bare—smooth as hell, too—beneath her clothes.

  Focus.

  My hand burns on her thigh, so I jerk it back. “That’s…” Sexy as fuck. Exactly what Malcolm will want. “Fine. You’ll be—that’s great.” She’s not six inches from me, naked beneath the silky red fabric. Concentrate, fucker. “But what I meant was the intention that’s underneath everything you do or say. You have to exude an attitude that you really don’t care about the object of your desire.”

  Frowning, she spins toward me completely. “I don’t understand.”

  I don’t, either. I’ve dated my fair share of women, and every single one of them wore underwear, even on the occasions they were begging to go for a ride on my dick. At some point or another, they’ve tried to please me by mixing up the fabric, but nothing is as erotic as finding a woman bare beneath the jeans. Or gown, as it were.

  “If I pretend not to care about Malcolm,” she says, “how will he know I like him?”

  I could explain it, but showing her would drive the point home. It’d be so much easier. Faster, too.

  “You’re going to be smooth about it.” Just like the slope of her neck, her cheek. “If I were trying to seduce you, for example, I would make sure there was always space between us, so I wouldn’t come off too strong, or too desperate, but I’d find ways to touch you with a seemingly innocent purpose.”

  She snorts into a laugh. “You mean like the stupid trick where you yawn and then drop your arm over my shoulder?”

  “Sort of, but we’re not twelve.” Guess there’s no other way to get her to understand. I’ll simply have to show her. Darn. “Looks like your hair has come down a bit right there. Let me…” Holding her gaze, I reach out slowly and tuck a strand of raven-black hair behind her ear. It’s like silk sliding over my fingers. As I pull my hand away, I make sure to gently brush the tender skin just beneath her ear with my fingertips. My God, she’s crazy-soft. “If I were trying to seduce you, I would touch you with purpose. Wait, you’ve got something on your lip…”

  “I do?” Her words are slow, as if she’s having trouble thinking.

  As she reaches for her mouth, I wrap my fingers around her wrist, stopping her. “I’ll show you where.”

  Using her pointer finger, I guide her toward the moisture, and sweep across her lower lip, adding mor
e pressure as I move back and forth. Her lips are luscious and full, her finger grazing against them, and as her mouth drops open into a seductive O, I can’t help but remember how succulent her lips tasted.

  Continuing the lesson, I move in slowly, slant my head the way I would if I were going to claim her mouth, and then I stop a breath away. The air hitches between us. She eyes my lips hungrily, and something inside my gut catches.

  “It was a few drops of beer.” My voice has gone hoarse, and I can’t tear my eyes away from hers. “You got it.”

  With a knot in my stomach, I bring her finger to my lips and suck it into my mouth. She gasps. The erotic sound hits my ears with the force of a shotgun, and as I swirl my tongue around her finger, she squirms in her seat.

  Doesn’t take my heightened werewolf senses to know she’s ready for me. And I’m harder than a fucking lightning rod.

  Twirling my tongue along the edge of her finger, I give it a solid suck as I massage the palm of her hand. I’m drawing out her enjoyment. Using my mouth and my hands to make her think of the way I could pleasure her body later. Hints of her arousal hit my nose, consuming me.

  “Guinness tastes even better secondhand,” I force out, after removing her finger from my mouth. Why won’t air fill my lungs? What the hell is wrong with me? “Thank you for the sample.”

  It’s what I would say to any woman I was trying to seduce. But to Snow, it sounds lame. Too surface-level. Not romantic enough.

  “I want…” She closes her eyes, sways into me a little. Fans of midnight-black lashes arc over her cheek and settle on her alabaster skin. “More than a sample.”

  This is where I stop. This is where I shoot her a megawatt smile, letting her know I’ve won, and walk away, leaving her unsatisfied and clawing for more. That’s the way it always works.

  But I’m moving in, damn it. Closer, closer still. I can’t stop. It’s like she’s got some kind of gravitational pull, and I’m sucked in. It’s too late to pull back.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper, and crush my mouth to hers.

  Chapter Four

  Hunter

  An explosion of sensation whips through me as her lips mash against mine. They’re plush and sweet, and as she lets out a quiet moan of delight, I feast on it, urging her lips apart. She tastes like Guinness and apples and innocence, and as need spikes in my core, I dig my fingers through her hair. Slant her head to deepen the kiss. Feel the luscious curve of her lips open ever-so-slightly. And when her tongue slides against mine, a bomb goes off in my head, obliterating any thought or hesitation that might’ve been there before.