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ZOEY

This Gunner apology is going better than I expected.

I love watching Warner writhe on the couch, tormented by the pleasure of my touch. Being in control in the bedroom—or in this case, the living room—has always made my blood run hotter. That someone so strong and powerful would give himself up to me is a heady sensation.

There’s a tantalizing heat building in my lower belly as I run my mouth along his length. Warner tastes salty, especially when I flick my tongue over the slit of him.

He jerks in response, a low groan filling the entirety of his apartment.

I think we’re nearing the edge.

Which means it’s time for me to get mine.

I let him pop out of my mouth, and his erection bobs against his stomach, hard and wanting.

Warner’s eyes meet mine. Hungry. Pleading.

I stand, moving beside his head to comb my fingers through his hair, all the while admiring the masterpiece of lustful male I’ve created.

“Zoey.” He whispers my name as if his begging confuses him.

Warner knows I’m in charge, which means he has no idea what’s coming next.

Or more likely who is coming next.

“Do you still want to lick me?”

“Yes.” The word is ragged as his arms shoot out, strong hands gripping the back of my thighs to pull me closer.

I grin at his eagerness. “Take off my underwear.”

His eyes get dark as he watches his own fingers pull down the lace, exposing me to him. Never have I had someone gaze at me with such intensity before. A girl could get high off this kind of attention.

When the fabric is on the floor, I fondle the silky strands of his hair again. “Do you want me to ride your face?”

Please say yes, I beg silently.

“More than anything,” he growls. Now, his palms cup my ass, encouraging me.

Bracing my hands on either side of his head on the armrest, I straddle his shoulders, my knees sinking into the cushions. Warner slides lower, until his breath tickles the curls at the center of me.

“Fuck, Zoey.” His lips brush my sensitive skin as he curses, and I clutch at the smooth leather of the couch to keep myself steady. “You’re perfect.”

My command of the situation slips. Like I stepped on the slick stones leading to dark water and the river snatches at my feet.

“I’m not.”

Warner growls again, this time low and menacing. Then, I feel a long stroke against my folds. Hot and wet. His tongue tortures me, giving back the pleasure I plied him with only a moment ago.

“You’re perfect for me .”

Before I can respond, Warner’s lips find my clit. After that, I’m too busy moaning and drowning in ecstasy to overthink his declaration. All my muscles tighten, my body wanting to curl in on itself, looking for protection from the intense sensation of a werewolf’s mouth on my pussy.

At some point, my hands move from the couch to his head, my fingers tangling in his sweat-damp hair. I must look wanton, clutching him to me as my hips rock against his mouth.

But Warner doesn’t tap out, begging for a break. Instead, he kneads my ass and presses me closer. He fucks me with his tongue in between bouts of worshipping my clit.

The noises that come out of my throat rival those of an animal. The response is a hum deep in his throat that sounds happy. Not a big surprise that a werewolf might like driving a woman wild.

“Warner,” I gasp, “I’m close.”

His assault becomes more frenzied, and when the brush of his teeth against my clit comes, I give in to the glorious pulsing of my orgasm. The tension in my muscles increases by tenfold, then snaps loose like a rubber band pulled past its limits. Some form of a whispered scream forces itself out of my throat.

Warner laps at me, clearly enjoying the taste of my wetness. I can barely keep upright and appreciate it when he slides my hips down over his chin and down his chest, until I can collapse on top of him without worrying about suffocating him with my thighs.

We both pant, and with the movement of his chest, I feel the brush of his hard length against my ass.

Which means I still have work to do. And, hell, am I looking forward to it.

“Do you have condoms?” My question is muffled because I’ve started nuzzling the hair on his chest. Who knew I’d like my man with some fuzz?

“I think so. In my bedside table.”

“Sounds like we need to relocate.”

That’s all the instruction Warner requires. He stands, with me clutched against him, and strides toward a back room. After tossing me onto a wonderfully cushy bed, Warner flips on the light and stares down at me.

I rise up to my knees and open my arms, beckoning him closer. He obeys, and for a few minutes, we let our heat and passion spill into a kiss. At some point, he unclasps the hooks of my bra, letting the material drop to the floor. Then, nothing is between us.

My nerve endings tingle as Warner’s body presses flush against mine, and I want to rub myself all over him. More than that, I want to feel connected to him. Have him inside me.

“Condom,” I command when I break off our kiss.

He leans over to open a drawer in his bedside table and pulls out one of those tiny three-packs found in any gas station. I pluck it out of his hand and check the expiration date hasn’t passed before tearing the container open.

Once the latex is free, I shuffle back on the bed. “Lie down. I’m going to put this on you.”

Warner reclines on the mattress, his moves as smooth as a predator’s. His eyes stay trained on my hands, arm wrapping around my waist, as if to make sure I won’t run on him.

I might enjoy him hunting me down.

The rubber isn’t hard to slide on with him standing at attention. Once he’s properly equipped, I mount his hips.

“Do you want to be inside me?” I ask, voice husky.

Warner’s response is a tense nod and a tight grip on my hips. Still, he doesn’t try to direct me. The werewolf follows my lead, and I reward him for it with another searing kiss.

Reaching between us, I wrap my hand around him, loving the heat that seeps through the latex. Warner will never let me be cold. It’s impossible for him.

Still, I shiver as I sink onto him, but purely from pleasure.

“Zoey …” Warner groans my name, and I watch with glee as the muscles in his neck strain. The werewolf stares at me with heavy-lidded eyes, his breaths escaping in short bursts.

This is what I crave, the sight I tried to picture at night when I touched myself. But nothing is as good as the real thing. My imagination couldn’t conjure up the sturdy feel of his body between my legs or the rasp of his chest hair against my palms. My brain wasn’t able to form the salt and musky scent of him or the exact pitch of his growls. Until a few days ago, I didn’t even consider that he would growl.

And I never could have imagined the expression Warner would have when we finally joined together. The mixture of lust and need and worship rocks me.

In self-preservation, I close my eyes, focusing instead on the thick heat of him inside me.

Our moans mingle as I lift my hips and begin to rock. There will probably be bruises on my backside from the way Warner’s fingers dig into me, urging me faster. Maybe it’s crazy, but I love the idea.

In fact, I want his touch everywhere.

My hands sneak back, covering his and prying the grip away.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. Too hard?”

“Not at all. But try here.” And just like in the mechanic’s shop, I press his palms over my boobs.

Warner mutters a string of curses as he kneads my breasts, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples before pinching them. Encouragements spill from my lips, and I bear down harder. Suddenly, Warner sits up, capturing a tight peak in his mouth, giving it the same ravenous attention he offered my clit earlier.

Gasping his name, I lose control of my body and the situation. All I want is more. I need him to break apart because I feel myself cracking. His mouth is on my nipple, his one palm on my ass and his other on my back, holding me to him. The man surrounds me, fills me, and continues to give me everything I ask for.

My arm snakes behind my back, landing on his inner thigh. I trace upward until I find what I’m looking for. When my light grip cups his balls, Warner’s head snaps back. His eyes meet mine, and I’m surprised to find them almost entirely black. I’m even more shocked to realize I like it.

“I’m close.” His voice is rough, as if pleasure has torn at his throat. “Come. I want to feel it.”

“Rub my clit.” I lean back enough to give him access.

The second his finger presses against the nerves, I know I’m done for.

“Yes. Like that. Just keep—” Words fail as my muscles tense again.

I release him, only to immediately dig my nails into the flesh of his leg. Then, the snap comes, and I’m clenching and crying out his name.

“Zoey!”

He leaves off my clit, using both his hands to grasp at my hips, holding me to him, grinding into me. I’m almost too lost in my orgasm daze to hear his triumphant shout. Warner bucks, once. Twice. Then, he collapses back on the bed, dragging me with him.

Our postcoital recovery isn’t relaxed. The two of us gasp and pant as if we didn’t breathe the entire time we moved together. My fingers and toes continue to twitch with aftershocks. I flex them to ease the tension from my orgasm. In fact, I need to stretch every muscle in my body.

Intending to do so, I roll off Warner’s chest, aiming for the space at his side. He catches me before I can get away, clutching my body to his.

“Where’re you going?” he slurs.

I prop my chin up on his chest so I can meet his eyes. “Usually have to stretch after a workout like that.”

Warner’s body shakes with a chuckle. “Careful you don’t fall.”

Curious, I glance to the side and realize I was about to roll straight off the edge of the bed. Hitting the hardwood floor would’ve been a major mood dampener.

“Got it. Officially rolling in the other direction.”

This time, Warner lets me go, and I bounce onto his cushy mattress.

Immediately, I extend my arms above my head, moaning in pleasure as my muscles welcome the movement.

“Fucking hell. Keep making that noise, and I’m going to be ready to go again before you know it.”

“Promises,” I murmur, settling into a comfortable sprawl.

Warner shifts onto his side, bending an elbow and propping his head in his hand to stare down at me. He reaches a hand out to my hair, and I hear a click. When he pulls back, I spy my hair clip in his fingers, glittering gold in the sunlight from his window.

The werewolf examines my little craft as if he finds it fascinating.

“Can I see you change?” I ask.

Warner raises a brow, setting my hair clip on the nightstand. “Into my wolf?”

I nod. “That’s not offensive to ask, is it?”

As a smile stretches across his face, I get the sense I’ve done the complete opposite of offend him. He looks pleased, if slightly wary. The next second, he’s off the bed and in the middle of the room.

Every inch of his glorious, naked body on display.

“This’ll take longer than last time since it’s not the full moon and there’s no danger around. You sure you want to see?”

“Yes.” I pull a sheet over me as I sit up, ready to watch magic in action.

“All right. Prepare to be amazed.” Warner closes his eyes and stands completely still.

Almost a full minute passes without anything happening. Long enough that doubt shadows my excitement. Even after talking to my mother, I realize I’m not completely convinced I didn’t imagine the whole incident. That my mind hasn’t found another way to betray me.

Then, the space around Warner darkens, as if a black fog has risen in the air. The darkness clings to his skin, obscuring him, until I can’t resist the urge to rub my eyes, trying to dispel the blur.

The distorted mass shifts, lowers, then dissipates.

And I’m alone in an apartment with a wolf.

A very large wolf.

“HOLY SHIT!” I push to my knees, leaning forward, then almost immediately flinch back, my ass hitting the mattress.

Silly me forgot to ask Warner just how wolfish he gets in this form.

Does his mind disappear? If I was in danger, he would’ve told me, right?

“Can you … understand me?” I ask, silently wishing I had put some clothes on before this experiment. Wanting more than just a sheet between me and that impressive jaw full of sharp teeth.

The better to eat you with, my dear.

Then, the creature’s shaggy head dips in a clear nod.

“So, you’re still in there, Warner?”

Another nod, paired with a huff.

I think he’s laughing at me.

Carefully, I climb off the bed, keeping the sheet wrapped tight.

My instincts scream at me, Danger! Don’t do this! Don’t you like your organs inside your body?!

But he trusted me with this universe-shattering secret. The least I can do is not make him feel like a pariah. And as I stuff the fear deep down in my chest, I realize something.

Warner is beautiful.

Apparently, werewolves aren’t some grotesque, terrifying creatures of nightmares. He looks like a wolf. A very large wolf, but I’ve never interacted with a wolf before, so maybe this is normal-sized. His fur is a luscious, thick charcoal-gray that I want to bury my hands in.

I don’t.

“Remind me to ask you more questions when you have the ability to speak,” I murmur, settling cross-legged in front of him.

Wolf Warner stretches his head out, nose sniffing my hair. Then, a moment later, the air fogs again, and I lose sight of the animal. Soon, a naked man is crouched on the hardwood. Warner reaches out, wrapping his arms around me and gathering me to his chest.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers into my hair. “The day you came to town was the best fucking day.”

It takes all my concentration not to stiffen at his words.

They sound so … hopeful. Like this is the start of something.

Pine Falls was supposed to be an experiment. A chance to test my ability to live away from the safety cocoon my family wraps me in.

But I’m not sure I’ve proven I’m strong enough.

Still, I won’t be done with the cabin for a few more weeks at least. I’m not about to disappear.

Yet.