Seduced by a Shifter Read online

  “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you before you fall.”

  Her chest tightened, unsure if his husky response was a double entendre or not. As she reached for his hand he drew her near, pressing her alongside his hard frame. His hand cupped the back of her head as he proceeded to kiss her senseless, the stubble of his beard rough under her fingertips.

  A loud knock on the door was followed by Scott’s voice, inside the cabin. “Hey. We smell food. Hope you have enough for us ‘cause we’re starved.”

  With a groan Ben pulled away, looking at her with a mix of irritation and desire. “I may have to kill them yet.”

  Her hands grasped the front of his shirt. “Then you wouldn’t be able to teach me to ski.”

  “Nah.” He pressed a kiss to her nose. “Wouldn’t take long.” Mischief danced in his eyes. “I know a cliff I can drop them off.”

  “Play nice.” She pinched his chest to emphasis her comment, or tried to. He was all sinewy muscle under her hands, a thrilling enticement to stroke and pet. Which she did.

  “I’m not feeling nice,” he grumbled near her ear.

  No, indeed. By the thick hardness pressing against her belly, she already guessed at what other emotion he felt, and totally understood. Her own arousal was kicking into high gear. Still, she pulled free.

  “Maybe after breakfast. I’m hungry.”

  His smile went wolfish. “So am I, sweetheart. So am I.”

  Now that was a definite double entendre. Luckily nothing disastrous happened during breakfast and after a quick shower and change of clothes, specifically a turtleneck to hide the hickey on her neck—she would not blush!—Willow went with Ben to his apartment to pick up his equipment. Her bodyguards were not far behind.

  Intrigued by anything of Ben’s, she walked around his place. Large, comfy furniture in male colors of dark brown and cream dominated the space seemingly too clean for a bachelor. “Doesn’t look at if you spend much time here.”

  “Not really,” his voice came from a second bedroom. “I’m out a lot. Work and stuff.”

  She knew what the stuff was by the way so many people thanked him for his help. “But you don’t have to work today?”

  Water ran in the bathroom and, thinking he may not have heard her, she ambled over to a wall to check out the only picture in the room. It was of a wolf.

  She stared at it in surprise. It was a summer shot, the surrounding trees heavy with green leaves. Though the animal’s fur lacked the thickness of a winter coat, there was no mistaking its color matched the wolf she’d seen outside the cabin door.

  “No. That’s mainly just weekends.”

  Engrossed in the same amber eyes, the same proud tilt of her wolf’s head, she jumped at Ben’s voice. Then she rewound to consider his words.

  Just weekends? How could he afford to live on a part-time job? “And what do you do in the summer?”

  “A little of this, a little of that.” His voice became louder as he entered the living room. “Don’t worry, Will. I’m not destitute.”

  She turned to face him, noticing right away that he’d shaved. A large black duffel bag lay at his feet. Another bag, bright green, thin, and nearly as tall as he was, propped against the wall. His ski equipment, most likely. “No?”

  He looked as if he were struggling with something. “My real job is helping Dean.”

  Her brows flew up. “The mayor?”

  His expression took on a sheepish appearance. “Yeah. You could say I’m his eyes and ears in the community.”

  “Really?” Her eyes tightened. “And what does that mean?”

  “Well.” He scratched his chin, a delaying tactic. “You might have noticed that Dean’s not the easy, approachable type.”

  Willow only nodded, agreeing with Ben’s assessment of the town’s mayor.

  “But he’s got a heart of gold and loves this town, his pa...people.” He cleared his throat. “I basically interact with those people. Listen to their concerns, questions. Get a handle on the town’s morale, their needs. Same for tourists.”

  “And keep Dean informed?”

  “Precisely.”

  Huh. “And that includes the kids,” she said, thinking of his Tuesday afternoon skating lessons to a bunch of kindergarteners.

  A lift of one shoulder. “Kids are people too.”

  Riiiight. Rather than dig for more as curiosity demanded, she let it go, giving Ben the same courtesy he bestowed by not pressing for answers regarding her nightmare.

  Less than an hour later she found herself on the bunny slope at the ski lodge, quickly coming to the conclusion that skiing was not for her. She simply could not keep her feet on the ground and push out. Her skis continued to cross in front of her, the poles a miserable excuse for propulsion. By the fifth time she landed on her rump—Ben laughing so hard she could see the tears in his eyes, the jerk—ashe’d had it. Even the little two-year-old boy, also learning to ski, flew down the gradual incline with joyful shouts of glee.

  She should have stayed on the ski lodge deck with Scott and Joe; then she wouldn’t be cold and wet. Bemused by her lack of coordination, she conceded defeat, but she wasn’t unhappy by any means. Not when Ben kissed her—albeit with amusement swimming in his eyes, the beast—every time she went down. If she’d known he would do that, she might have taken the tumbles accidentally on purpose. She’d have to remember that for next time.

  The four of them grabbed an early dinner at Dolen’s, the place hopping with a bevy of take-out orders as people streamed past their table with casual greetings, but Willow sensed an underlying current of restlessness in the men, especially the ones at her table.

  They were back at the cabins by sunset, Scott and Joe excusing themselves to walk the grounds. Willow thought they headed out to give her and Ben privacy and now she shifted nervously from one foot to the other as Ben closed and locked the front door behind them.

  His gaze raked her figure, probably noticing her unease because he said, “Why don’t I start a fire while you change into something warm and dry?” A smile tickled the side of his mouth. “I wouldn’t want your cute little butt to freeze off.”

  Willow tore off to the bedroom, replacing her almost-dry clothes with the sweats she’d had on earlier. Her jeans and coat had, for the most part, kept the wet snow at bay, but the denim was still damp and the cold had started to seep into her skin.

  Gone no more than five minutes—okay, maybe ten, since she’d brushed her hair and teeth and slicked on some gloss—she returned to see Ben had indeed built a roaring fire. He’d also turned out the lights and laid a thick blanket and several pillows in front of it, which he lazily lounged against.

  He patted the space next to him. “How about a massage?”

  Willow warily settled next to him. “For you or me?”

  He reached out and trailed a fingertip down the center of her forehead and over the gentle slope of her nose. “While I love the idea of your hands on my body, you took quite a few tumbles today.”

  Willow blinked up at him. “I fell on my butt, Ben. You want to massage my butt?”

  Dark blond brows wiggled with sensual delight over eyes gone dark with intent. “Consider it Phase Six of Pleasing Willow.”

  Her own eyes narrowed in consideration. “Why do I get the feeling this is about pleasing you instead?”

  “Ah.” He put a hand to the middle of her chest and pushed her gently onto her back. “Because everything about you pleases me. Turn over.”

  After giving him a one-eyed stare, she did as he demanded. She was tense at first, but between the soothing heat of the fire and the sure strokes of his hands, she felt her eyes begin to flutter closed. Until his hands reached under the elastic of her waistband.

  “Hey.”

  “The pants are in my way.”

  Yeah. Right. But she let him do it, knowing her panties still kept her secret, that she was already primed for him. She moved to press her legs together after he’d stripped her of her sweatpants, but his
muscled thighs were already making a home between them.

  She shot him a silent question over her shoulder.

  “Better access.”

  Better access, her butt. Oh wait. She let out a little moan when he replaced his hands on her body. Definitely better access to her butt.

  He kneaded her flesh, tracing up and under her top to turn her back muscles into so much jelly. She didn’t even resist when he eased off her sweatshirt. The pop of her bra as he unhooked it only made her body tighten in anticipation.

  He was seducing her. And she was lapping up the erotic attention like a thirsty dog. It took all she had left not to arch up into his touch.

  She felt his lips at her ear, her cheek. “Kiss.” He demanded on a low growl, the command curling around her to make her center throb. “Kiss me.” She rose up on all fours, catching his passionate lips as he crouched over her. Her bra fell down her arms and she tossed it to the side. He braced one hand on the floor, the other busy at her breast, holding the swollen mound in a firm yet gentle grip, strumming his thumb over the pebbled nipple, his hold possessive, a rough brand that burned her skin. She hummed with pleasure and rocked her core against the thick bulge between her thighs. She felt his chest rumble against her back. It felt so good she did it again.

  Ben let out a soft curse and reached down to tug at her panties. The sound of tearing fabric shocked her. It also notched the dark lust coursing through her veins to the boiling point.

  He wedged his hand over her damp curls, teasing her clit with light strokes before easing a single finger inside her sex. His mouth at her shoulder, he nipped and licked at her salty skin as he worked her sex. Grinding the palm of his hand on the hard bundle of nerves hidden within her folds, he swirled his finger in an electrifying vortex of sensation.

  Her breath came in ragged moans. Then abruptly his heat was gone. Catching the scream of denial before it pushed past her lips, she peered over her shoulder, mollified slightly to find him ripping off his clothes. His erection jutted out, proud and deliciously male. Her girl parts quivered with anticipation, sending out another surge of lust that almost made her embarrassed at how much she wanted him. Almost.

  He put on a condom before moving over her once again, kissing her shoulder blades, her spine, petting her legs as he positioned her how he wanted her. “Perfect.”

  She expected him to enter her. Craved to be filled by his thick heat. What she felt was his mouth. “Oh. Ahhh.”

  Spreading her soaking folds, he began to taste her in slow, hot strokes, his tongue a steady, decadent touch. He teased her throbbing clit with soft flicks of his tongue, pushing her to the edge of sanity. Then he replaced his tongue with his fingers, still too gentle a touch to do more than want to bang her head on the floor in desperate need.

  “You’re so wet, baby. Gloriously wet. All for me.” She let out a squawk of surprise when she felt him delve inside with his tongue. Hard and thick, he dove in deep to lick at the tiny muscles that instinctively clenched around the soft intrusion, seeking the friction that would ease the terrible ache in her belly.

  Her hips rocked back, tremors shaking her body. “Ben.” It was a plea to stop. A plea for more.

  “You want me inside you? Hmmm? Filling your sweet pussy?” He punctuated his words with more lascivious licks of his tongue.

  His dirty talk would be the death of her. “Yes. Inside me. Now.” It was a demand, easy to say when she was nothing more than a firestorm of raging need.

  A very male chuckle. “That’s my girl.” He shifted behind her, one hand gripping her hip. Then she felt the tip of him penetrate her body, her sigh of relief as palpable as his touch. Her body stretched, easier this time, as he filled her in long, slow thrusts.

  “That’s it.” He praised her. “That’s so good.” His other hand curled over her other hip. “Hold on.”

  That was all the warning she got before he starting taking her, hard, hot. Skin slapped against skin as he pounded into her, a dominate taking that had no comparison. Willow could do nothing but grip the blanket in both hands and hold on for the wildest ride of her life.

  “Mine.” Ben snarled the word, his hand a stamp of ownership as he stroked her back from nap to butt and back again.

  Her hips bucked back to meet his thrusts. “There. Don’t stop.” His next thrust went so deep she felt it echo through her very being. Her arms trembled, her head falling forward as the tension in her belly tightened, tightened. With a sudden snap it sprang free, her lips parting on a scream as she came so hard every muscle in her body spasmed and shook. Even her toes curled at the strength of her release.

  As she sank to her torso, Ben crouched back over her, his mouth a fervent clamp on her shoulder as he plunged deep several more times before stiffening and shouting with his release.

  Still joined, they tumbled onto the blanket together, drunk and sated from pleasure.

  Chapter Twenty

  Willow peeled open one eye and stared into the red numbers of the clock on the nightstand. Three fifty-eight a.m. She’d been asleep less than an hour, thanks to Ben’s insatiable appetite.

  Her lips curved at the memory. After they’d napped in front of the fire they made love again. And again. They’d made their way to the bedroom when the fire died, where Ben proceeded to show her just how much he wanted her.

  When she’d had enough and didn’t think she could ever come again, she’d begged him to stop. He’d rained tender kisses all over her face, praising her, and she’d slipped into unconsciousness.

  But now she was awake, and thirsty.

  Cautiously she edged to the side of the bed and slid free from the covers, not wanting to wake Ben. Thick carpet kept her feet from freezing once they hit the floor, but it didn’t do much for the rest of her naked body. Her clothes were in the other roomshe would not be embarrassed—so she unearthed her second set of sweats from the hamper, glancing at the bed as she dressed.

  Ben wasn’t in it.

  Brow creased, she straightened and finished tugging on the clothes. The cabin was quiet. Not a creak or groan or even the sound of steps to be heard. Chest tight with disappointment, she walked to the window and lifted the shade. Bright moonlight displayed Ben’s truck, now covered with a light dusting of new snow. He hadn’t left!

  Then were is he? She made her way into the kitchen utilizing the scenic route, checking all the other rooms for Ben. Nada.

  Not bothering with overhead lights as the scattered nightlights, one in every room, illuminated her pathway well enough, she stepped to the kitchen and got out a glass from an upper cabinet. It was as she turned to open the fridge she heard something other her worried thoughts.

  A voice. Then a soft male chuckle.

  Thinking Ben must be outside speaking with either Scott or Joe, or both, Willow made her way to the window overlooking the porch. Instead of lifting the shade she used a finger to edge the side of the honeycombed fabric away from the wall and peeked through the little gap.

  At first she didn’t see anything unusual. A portion of the outside table and two of the four chairs were visible as were the steps and the whole left side of the back yard. A long shadow moved closer, followed by two smaller shadows, and then Ben came into view.

  He stood at the bottom of the stairs, in profile, and she let out a small sigh. The man was breathtaking from every angle. His thick hair was beginning to curl and stood in tufts, making her smile. She knew she had a hand—two, actually—in that. In his untucked flannel button-up and jeans he stood tall, hands in his front pockets, his eyes crinkling with amusement, his sensuous lips moving as he spoke with someone.

  Someone, or two someones, as she could make out the dual shadows, just not the individuals themselves, and they seemed too small to be her muscled body-boys.

  She bit her lip, indecisive. Her piqued curiosity demanded she simply open the kitchen door and walk outside, but she didn’t know if that would be considered intruding or not.

  Besides, it was really cold-looki
ng out there.

  Ben turned to go up the steps and, startled, Willow let go of the shade, stepping abruptly back and hoping like hell he hadn’t seen her spying on him. She moved to the fridge again, waiting to open it when he opened the door, her eyes wide and innocent.

  No, I wasn’t spying, Mr. Anderson.

  Ears twitching, she waited for his tread to cross the wood porch. Nothing. He should easily be at the door by now.

  She edged to the door and put her ear to it, just in time to barely make out his low comment. “—only for a bit. I don’t want to leave Willow for long.”

  Her head cocked. If he was going to go with his visitors somewhere, why come back up the porch?

  Still listening, still no tread. Mystified, Willow made her way back to the window, once again pulling the shade aside with the tip of her finger. Her mouth dropped.

  Ben was naked!

  What. The. Hell?

  Even as she stood there gaping at him, a shower of light encased his body. Her eyes snapped shut and when she opened them again, she immediately closed them. She shook her head and looked back out at the spot that Ben had stood not two seconds ago.

  Where a tan wolf now stood.

  The same tan wolf Willow saw her first two nights here. The same two nights Ben was stationed outside to watch over the cabin until his relief showed.

  The same tan wolf pictured in Ben’s apartment.

  Willow sagged against the wall as the wolf—Ben?—loped down the stairs, taking off into the forest, followed by two other wolves, their much darker fur gleaming under the moon.

  Part of her brain immediately said Scott and Joe while another part went into meltdown.

  “There is no way I just saw what I saw, or think what I think. Nope. Not at all.” She turned to the kitchen, looked around for help. “Too unreal. Too fantastical. Too, too....”

  Groping around like a blind woman, she found the back of a kitchen chair and sank onto the cushioned seat before she slid in a boneless heap onto the cold linoleum floor.