Page 8 of A Wulver for the Week (Pine Ridge Universe)

T he room is huge, simple, and elegant.

It’s also obviously for lovers. There’s only one bed, no couch, just a loveseat, and a tiny table for two in case you want to eat your meals overlooking the sea from the comfort of your own room.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, Minnie claps her hands over her mouth. “Oh, my God, Craig! I’m so sorry! I should never have told my mom we’d been dating for six months. They must have assumed—”

“It’s fine! It’s absolutely fine!” I say, my accent, which has been absent in the presence of so many Americans and so much chat about the weather and baseball, suddenly pops out. “I’ll make up a bed on the floor—”

“You can’t sleep on the floor! Not for five days!” she hisses.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because Barry’s brother and his wife are in the next room, and my cousin Cora and her boyfriend are in the room across the hall!” Minnie’s eyes widen.

“What? What is it?”

“I hope the walls in this place are thick.”

“I— Oh.” If I didn’t have fur on my face, I’d be bright pink.

There’s a minute of silence as we both try to figure out the etiquette for this situation. My first instinct of giving up the bed (chivalry is alive and well in this heart, thank you) is out, according to Minnie. Sharing the bed is out if you ask me. Sleeping inches away from the woman who smells like love and sex? I’m going to wake up with a hard cock and a full knot. I’d probably wake up that way every day, even if we were a hundred miles apart. I’ve been dreaming about Minnie for weeks.

“You know, if we were in some emergency situation, we’d huddle together to share the warmth, or the bunker, or the bomb shelter. Whatever. This is an emergency—a really swanky one,” Minnie suddenly says in her no-nonsense, must-get-the-patient-to-listen voice. “We’ll just share the bed.”

“Ohhh. Um. I wonder, dear, if that’s wise?” I say, voice pinched.

“I trust you. I’ll behave,” she whispers, her most charming smile on her face.

Bloody hell, I wish she wouldn’t whisper. I wish she wouldn’t smile like that, either. Not now. Not when we’re alone in a bedroom on an island in the middle of the ocean. Whatever feral instincts wulvers have are starting to bubble to the surface. “I know you would, Minnie, it’s just that... Well, when a man is asleep and relaxed, he cannae help some of the things he might do. Or say! I’m a talker. Yes, that’s it. I talk in my sleep, and I sprawl. I grab and cuddle. Ye’d have no peace with me in yer bed,” I say in a breathless rush.

Minerva stares at me for an eternity. Well, ten seconds. “You know what? That’s perfect. Cora will hear you mumbling and banging around and think we’re just being romantic. Perfect cover.”

“I might roll on top of you and smother ye!” I protest.

Her dark eyes are suddenly even darker. “I like to be cuddled. No man has done that in a long, long time. Even the few I’ve dated who did like to snuggle—I guess I was too proud of being independent. Not needing them.” Minnie sighs and hangs her garment bags in the closet. “An accidental snuggle would make my day—unless you’re not into that. Like, I don’t mind, but if you mind...”

“I don’t mind!” Argh! Truth. I don’t mind, but I don’t want to get put in an awkward situation that we regret.

My mind zips backwards to a few hours ago on the plane. We were snuggled up tight then, fear, nerves, and complimentary alcohol fusing us together. I could smell her heat—a whole jungle of gardenias in a humid mist, like breathing as you walk through the world’s best greenhouse. Her hand brushed my hardness, and she said nothing, but the scent got stronger. I brushed across her breast, and a hard nipple made my cock jump.

“Good. That’s settled. I’m going to have a shower and change. Do you want to go first?”

“Hm? No, no. I’ll sit on the balcony with the book I brought.” I wave a paperback and try not to think about Minnie. Naked. Naked and wet, just behind a door a few feet away.

She disappears, and I let out a long, pent-up sigh. My God. I can’t survive a week of this much sexual tension. I sink onto the bed and collapse, back hitting the soft, supportive mattress covered in an ocean blue comforter. I turn my head, trying to clear my brain—and find myself with my muzzle in Minnie’s ensemble for the night—a gauzy blue sundress with hints of sparkles and spaghetti straps, a strapless bra, and a sheer thong that’s barely the size of my hand.

I bolt to the balcony. I need air.

And a cold shower.

Too bad Minnie’s in there already. Hot. Naked. Soapy.

Fuck, maybe I should just walk out into the ocean...

“YOU LOOK SO HANDSOME !” I pat Craig’s lapel. He’s in a trim gray suit. The slate blues in his tie play off the vivid blues in my dress. He looks good enough to eat.

“You’re a vision. That dress...” Craig steps back and surveys me as I gather my hotel key and tiny evening purse. “You’ll outshine the bride.”

“No way I could do that,” I chuckle. “Ready to cut a rug? If I know my family, there will be an hour of dining and dancing that might last until dawn.”

“I don’t know how to dance anything complicated or with set steps. I suppose I could do a slow number where I lean on you and bury my nose in your hair,” he says with a nervous shrug.

That sounds amazing. I know I shouldn’t be so eager, but I can’t wait until the party’s over and we're back in this room.

Stop that. You’ll be too exhausted to do anything more than sleep. And you’d better stick to your own side of the bed so Craig doesn’t think you’re trying anything.

God, I want to try something...

“Going down?” Craig murmurs against my ear, bending to reach his own key and slide it into his hip pocket.

“Yes! That’d be— Oh, the elevator. Yes, I’m ready.” Please don’t let him ask—

“What did you think I meant?” he chuckles, leading me across the hall to the elevator.

“Nothing!”

Cue the awkward silence. It’s only one floor down, but it’s a long, long ride.

A PROFESSIONAL SQUADRON of photographers and videographers has descended on the hotel. They’re everywhere, posing the bridal party, posing couples, posing families. Candid shots galore. Between the constant flashing and posing and pointed questions from my mother and aunts, I can’t enjoy my swordfish or talk to Craig. Poor guy. He’s getting the third degree from my father. I’m relieved when Grandpa Barty ushers in a live band and dancing starts.

“If this is just the welcome dinner, I cannae imagine the wedding!” Craig whispers.

“I know! It’s crazy. Was my dad giving you a hard time?”

“No more than a congressional hearing,” he laughs.

It’s such a warm, mellow sound. He’s such a warm person. Am I a fool to throw away a beautiful new friendship because I want something more? I don’t know.

I lean against his chest, and we sway. “My mother was cross-examining me, too. Everything from my career to my dwindling childbearing years was up for grabs.”

“You’re stressed. Stiff like a stick, love.”

“Maybe I’ll get a massage tomorrow during the spa day.”

“Tomorrow is the beach day. I’ll give you a massage if you like. I took a physical therapy course, you know.”

“I did, too. If I get one, you get one.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“That’s a lie. My family, en masse, questioning you for an hour while photographers loom like vultures? Buddha would start drinking.”

We laugh together, spin together, sliding out of the wooden dance floor set in the middle of the large, elaborate terrace-slash-dining room. We make our way onto the cooled sands as the moon rises and the waves lap the shore. “This is so perfect. So romantic,” I sigh, heart fluttering high, leaving stress behind for a second.

“Yesss, that’s it. Relax, Minnie.” Craig’s hands start to knead the small of my back. “It’s a lovely night. Tomorrow’s going to be a lovely day. Your uncle said there’s a spot to fish. I’ll catch you a tuna.”

“If you just keep rubbing my back, you don’t have to catch me anything,” I groan.

“Oh, I can do better than this.” His hands travel up, surprisingly strong, kneading muscles that I thought couldn’t be reached, undoing knots that make me wince and then unspool like a limp piece of pasta. I drape myself against him, and Craig pulls me behind a palm tree. Before I know what’s happening, he’s spun me to face the trunk, both hands on my shoulders. “You wait until I get you face down on the bed. I can use my elbows. I learned a good trick from Kevin—you know, Kevin? Nice fellow, married to that lifeguard at the gym, Marina?”

“Uh-huh,” I groan, barely able to think of words, let alone people.

“He’ll finish his doctorate of physical therapy this year. He showed me a whole bunch of pressure points and explained some range of motion exercises and techniques to improve circulation and promote healing. Mind you, I’m not as good as he is—”

“I think you’re better. I want to go back to our room. Now,” I moan.

“Minerva Johnson!”

Craig’s hands fly from my shoulders.

Aunt Belinda confronts us, a deadly glare in her sharp eyes. “Save it for the room, you two.”

“Auntie, no. I have had such a stiff neck lately. Studying for exams—”

“She’s taking the chief nursing officer exam, Aunt Belinda,” Craig backs me up, voice almost steady. “I work closely with the physical therapy department, and my colleagues showed me some range of motion exercises. Here, you look tense. I can imagine. Mother of the bride must put a heavy burden on your shoulders.”

Before Aunt Belinda can lecture or I can even clear my head, Craig is grabbing her hand and massaging it. Just her hand.

The snarl fades from her face. Her eyelids sink to half-mast. “Ooh. Oh. Oh, that’s nice.”

“I was only doing the same for Minnie. I’d never take a liberty,” he croons.

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. This sun. This stress...”

Craig switches hands, deftly circling over her knuckles and across her palm. “But everything is simply magnificent. People will talk about this wedding for years.”

“Gerri looks so happy,” I chime in.

“Thank you, lambie,” Aunt Belinda sighs as Craig drops her hand. She kisses his cheek, then mine. “I think I’ll go get another piece of that cake. I shouldn’t if I want to fit in my dress, but I will.”

She sways off, and I turn to Craig, eyes wide. “That was legendary. No one defuses Aunt Belinda.”

“I didn’t want her to think I’d rut you against a tree like some common heathen.”

“I like common heathens—and I still owe you a massage.”

“Aye, and I’m not done with you yet.” Craig slides his arm possessively around my waist and leads me inside. “It’s been a long day. Should we head up?”

“Mhm.” This time, I get it. He’s talking about the elevator. I wonder if he’s thinking about what I said earlier...

“Could I ask you a very personal question? One you don’t have to answer,” he whispers as we skirt the terrace and walk around the flagstone path that leads to the lobby of the resort.

“Anything.”

“Hm.”

“Craig, really. Anything,” I urge when he gets permission but stays silent.

“Maybe it’s not a question. It’s a statement.”

“Oh. Okay. Shoot.”

“The elevator isn’t the only thing that goes down around here,” he says. “I just thought... I just thought you should know that there are some unselfish men in the world. Men in the world who will give you massages and hold your chair and pay for your meals. Men who are happy because you’re happy.”

Tears suddenly spring to my eyes. It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long, long year, and you see a lot of death and dying in my job. Crying isn’t a luxury I allow myself often. I don’t know why it suddenly happens now, but it does.

“Craig...”

“No, listen, I’m not trying to be smooth. God knows I’d fail.”

I disagree but keep quiet.

His voice is a whisper as we steer our way through palms and budding hibiscus bushes. “Hearing your mother and aunts lecture you off and on today, hearing all the guff your mother gave you that forced you to ask some random workmate to be your plus-one—”

“You were not random!” I say as we enter the lobby and make for the elevator.

“They’re going on about you hurrying up and marrying just so you don’t run out of time. Havers!”

“Havers?”

“It’s Scottish for bullshit—in this context. Or, what a lot of nonsense. Why marry someone who won’t make you happy just so you can say you did it? And if you wanted a baby so badly, there are hundreds in New York State alone looking for a wonderful mum like you.”

“Craig Macpherson. You are one hell of a social worker, and I see why you’ve gotten NASW awards for Broome County more than once in your life. Thanks. I won’t settle for anyone who... Well,” I lean back against the wall of the elevator and look up at him, my hands behind my back. Do I look seductive?

I kind of hope so.

“What, Minnie?”

“I’m not going to settle for anyone. If I get married, he has to be just like you.”

I KNOW WE’RE PLAYING with fire. I ask if Minnie still wants that massage, and she says yes, then disappears into the bathroom. When she comes back, she’s wearing a coral two-piece that barely covers her ass and shows me exactly how generous her breasts are.

Drool puddles in my mouth, and my hands twitch.

“Use this? I’ll return the favor, I promise.” Minerva tosses me a bottle of body lotion and spreads a wide teal and white striped towel on the bed.

I nod and slowly take off my jacket. Then my shirt and tie.

Is she going to see it now? That the body belongs to a man and the head belongs to a wolf? “I don’t want to get lotion on my suit,” I say.

“Turn the lights off and get into your jammies,” she giggles sleepily.

“Are you a little tipsy?”

“A little.”

“And tired?” Maybe we shouldn’t do this.

“If you’re worrying about me worrying, I’m not worrying, so stop your worrying.”

I try to follow that, but maybe I’m a little tipsy and tired as well. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oooh, and he obeys orders. I love it,” she smirks as she lays down.

I flip off the lights, drop my trousers, and toe off my socks, kneeling over her gorgeous brown body in nothing but my boxers. Now it’s my turn to smirk because I can see just fine in the dark, and I drink in every plump curve, every soft, silky piece of skin. She shifts, and I stare like the wolf demands, looking between her legs. That’s my coveted prey; that’s what I want to wrap my jaws around.

But I don’t because I’m not a bastard; I’m mostly a gentleman. I pour lotion into my palm and rub it into her shoulders, working my way down as I explain what I’m doing, and what muscle groups I’m targeting.

Minnie moans and the sounds go straight to my cock, making me swallow a whimper. “The neighbors will think you’re having a wonderful time,” I chuckle as she lets out a long, low cry of pleasure.

“I am, oh God. Goo-ooo-d.” The one-syllable breaks into three drawn-out ones, and Minnie reaches back and grabs for my hand. “Best. Man. Ever.”

“Oh, if only you knew.”

“That you’re not the best? Liar.”

That I’m not a man. Not exactly. “Thank you, my fair maiden.”

She wriggles her bottom, and I decided to risk life and limb by straddling her thighs. “This way I can lean into my stroke, and put more pressure on these knots you’re carrying,” I explain, trying not to think about the knot I’m carrying and how I’m inches away from where I want it to be.

“You’re spoiling me. Why?”

Her question scares me, and I press down too hard, making her moan a squeak. “Sorry! Uh. Why not? I like you.”

“I like you.”

“Thank you.”

“But this is a whole other level of spoiling. This is beyond nice. Is it because I got you this great vacation? Because if it is, you can stop. I know the trappings are great—” she stops to yawn, and I feel her muscles shudder and calm, turning into pudding under my hands, “but they don’t make up for the constant scrutiny by my relatives.”

“Hush. I’m enjoying every second. Especially these seconds. Alone with you.”

“Mmm. That’s sweet. You’re sweet, Craig.”

“So are you.”

Then, there’s nothing. Just slow, even breathing. Minnie is asleep, and I’m a little disappointed and a good deal relieved. I brush my teeth and crawl into bed beside her.