Kevin sighs. “Stun gun?”
I pat my pocket. “Ready and loaded.”
He rolls his eyes. “Take care. I’ll call you every five minutes.”
Kevin is true to his word, like he’s always is since he got out of rehab. He rings every five minutes. I reject the call and ring him back. You can’t be too safe in this neighborhood.
Jog is really the most accurate term to describe what I do when I want to organize my thoughts. I don’t run. I hate running. I’m no athlete, and I tire so easily I’m already catching my breath after one flight of stairs. Kelly’s the athlete in the family. Okay, she’s the cheerleader but I say that’s a sport since it’s featured in ESPN.
I’m halfway around the block when I realize someone’s been following me – and doing nothing to conceal the fact. I turn around, and it’s all I get to do before a streak of brown flashes before my eyes.
Instincts I don’t even know I possess kick in. I catch a glimpse of black eyes and jab them with my fingers. My attacker howls.
Shick.
A dog – no, a wolf – no, a werewolf.
I’m absolutely sure of it.
Finally managing to pull out my stun gun, I zap it once, twice, as many times as I can. The werewolf’s body falls into the ground with a heavy thud.
My phone rings. I scramble to answer it, but shiny silver nails swipe it away. Another werewolf?
SHIT! Surely no one’s going to argue against me and say that this moment doesn’t call for a real cuss word.
The werewolf makes another swipe, dislodging the stun gun out of my hand before I can press the trigger. I stare at it in horror. Is this it for me?
Then a third werewolf comes out of nowhere, nails slicing into the side of the brown werewolf in front of me. Its nails are sharp and long, enough for them to go through my attacker’s body, its tips protruding from the other side. The nails retract, coming out with a heart pierced between them.
The werewolf – the good one - throws the heart on the ground with another howl.
Midnight black fur and green eyes.
“Domenico?” I whisper. Now, it just feels natural to call him that. All the time we’ve been in his office, talking and making out, I wasn’t able to make myself say his name. It didn’t feel right. Now, I know why. Finally, I could get past the fact that he’s the larger-than-life CEO in the company I work in, a guy who’s so sexy and gorgeous women all over the world have wet dreams about him. This time I feel a connection with him, a bond that’s strong enough it to give me the right to call him by his name.
It takes a second for Domenico to change back.
“Are you all right?” He brushes the hair from my face, which sweat has glued to my skin. The air is sticky around us in its humidity but Domenico’s sudden presence makes me feel I’m in an inferno of his making.
I nod.
“You were wonderfully brave, cara.”
“You saw me?” I start to frown when he nods and I realize the implications of it. “You let me fight it when you could have helped me?”
An implacable look settles on his sinfully handsome face. “I will die protecting you, Misty, but there will be times when I won’t be by your side and danger will find you instead. I wanted you to find the strength you’ve always had inside you to fight back.”
His words make sense, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling a little hurt. In a way, it’s like a parent letting a baby stumble a few times until he – she – learns to stand. So, yes, I get it, I really do, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“You’re so cold,” I blurt out.
He stiffens. “Are you saying ‘no’ then?”
I shrug helplessly. “I don’t---”
Domenico suddenly picks me up, taking me with him as he lopes into one of the shadowy corners of the street with the kind of speed that leaves my mouth hanging. When he finally stops, I don’t think more than a few seconds have passed.
“Dome---” The rest of his name is consumed into his kiss.
He cups my face and kisses me so deeply my entire body is forced back until I hit the wall behind me. Domenico follows, and when his body slams onto mine I realize dizzily he’s naked.
Moaning in surrender, I haul him close, kissing him back with almost wild abandon. Again, I lose all common sense in his arms. I forget that we’re in a public place, forget that we’ve just been involved ina fight, and I even forget at how impossibly cold he could be.
All I care about is the fact that I’m back in his arms and he’s hot for me. Still hot for me.
A little shriek escapes my lips when he lifts me up so high that I instinctively wrap my legs around him. He nuzzles my necks before nipping my shoulder, hard enough to make my body jerk, my head falling back against the wall.
Domenico starts rocking against me, and with every thrust it’s as if he’s pressing his erection against my heat more strongly. Harder.
“Domenico.” I can’t stop saying his name.
“You have to marry me, Misty.” He growls into my ear just as his fingers slide inside my panties and trace the quivering flesh hidden in it.
“I won’t allow you to say no.” Without warning, he shoves his fingers inside me.
Not just one or two but three, all of a sudden, and the combined thickness of his fingers makes me scream, as loudly as I can.
It should have hurt, but it doesn’t. I’m so wet for him my body has melted into liquid heat, my mind shutting down at the sheer pleasure of his penetration.
“Say. Yes.” He emphasizes each word with a thrust of his fingers.
“Aaah.” I can only pant in answer.
“Misty,” Domenico growls.
How can he expect me to make coherent sense? The thrust of his fingers creates such an exquisite form of pleasure all I can do is shake my head side to side as I struggle to raise my h*ps and meet the downward slide of his fingers.
“Shit,” Domenico mutters just before he kisses me again, even more deeply than the first time. His tongue swoops inside my mouth, its aggressive movement matching the increasing speed of his thrusts.
“Come for me, cara,” he rasps when he lets go of my bruised lips.
“I can’t!” But already I can feel myself trembling, the rough tone of his words only serving to inflame me more.
My werewolf prince commands, and my body strains to follow.
Domenico bites my lower lip. Then he pulls back, his intense green eyes locking with mine. “Give yourself to me.” His thumb presses against that extra sensitive nub of flesh.