45
Amber
I dream I’m being chased by a wolf. A huge, silver-eyed beast who morphs into a giant, ripped man. Who then catches me, pins me under his muscled body, and…
I wake up in the throes of orgasm.
Let the record reflect: Full moons makes werewolves get freaky. Or am I the one who’s getting freaky?
The bathroom mirror reflects my flushed cheeks. Apparently I love freaky.
Sighing, I drag a brush through my hair. Multiple visions, a horrible night out and then I meet a werewolf. Just another week in the life of Crazy Amber.
After two hours of frantically wiping down every surface in my apartment, I feel a bit better. Maybe I can just keep on keeping on, act normal. Garrett told me not to tell anyone, so I may as well pretend nothing happened. Right?
I mean, they’re three huge, scary guys who happen to turn into wolves. Big deal. I turn into a monster once a month, too, when I’m on my period. Maybe I have more in common with Garrett than I thought.
Dressed for yoga, I grab my mat and head out the door, pausing to check if I packed my keys. My back and bottom tingle as if my body remembers Garrett pressing against me. He caught me when I almost fell, and walked me to my apartment, and taught me to a pick a lock. Keeping me safe. Taking care of me.
Do I pretend that never happened? What about the kiss and the spanking and his talented fingers between my legs?
I suck in a breath as my lady bits come to life with happy memories. Ducking my head to hide my blush, I practically run down the hall. No werewolves accost me on the way to my car. I’m almost disappointed.
Maybe I am back to Normal Amber’s life. When I see Garrett, I’ll just be cool.
Settling into my car, I’m about to back out of my spot when I see him. Massive shoulders stretching an army-green shirt, Garrett crosses his bulging arms over his chest. His head tilts to the side as he watches me.
I wave, ignoring the flip-flop of my heart. And then I hit the gas-only to have the car lurch forward. I forgot to put it in reverse. The front wheels of my Volvo hit the concrete block and roll over it, crunching the front of my car into the wall.
A second later, metal screams as my door rips off its hinges.
“Baby, are you okay?” Garrett leans over me, unclicking my seatbelt and pulling me from the car before folding me in his arms.
“Hey, neighbor.” My voice comes out shaky. So much for being cool.
“What the hell?”
“You startled me. I, um-” Garrett’s scent surrounds me, and calm settles my jangled nerves. My hands are splayed on his hard-muscled chest.
“Amber?”
Focus! Amber the Lawyer is never at a loss for words. “Are you, um, growling?”
“My wolf,” Garrett says through a clenched jaw. “He’s worried about you.”‘
“Oh. Hi, wolf.” I speak to Garrett’s belly button. His shirt has ridden up, showing muscles the size of cobblestones.
More rumbles as Garrett laughs. The pleasant sound relaxes me. I’m standing in my hottie neighbor’s arms, talking to his wolf. Nope, not crazy at all.
Garrett tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear, brushes a thumb over the hill of my cheek, leans in, and kisses me.
At the touch of his lips, little shocks of lightning flash through me. I sigh and press forward, ready to rub myself against him. My hand slips under his shirt, caressing the smooth, sculpted muscle. Garrett angles his head, grips the back of my neck, and deepens the kiss. His tongue in my mouth stirs up parts of me down below.
The kiss goes on and on and when we finally break away, I can barely breathe. He holds me close with his firm hand on my neck and rests his forehead against mine.Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.
I’m literally like the heroine of a Jane Austen romance, my chest heaving, about to swoon. “Um. Wow. Do all werewolves kiss like that?” I ask inanely. Really? Where is the sane Amber who always can verbally spar with the best of them in a courtroom?
Silver flashes through his eyes. “You won’t be kissing any werewolves but me.”
“Well no, of course not. I didn’t mean to kiss you, either. You’re the one who keeps doing it. I keep letting you.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.” He releases the back of my neck, and I feel the loss. “I was worried there for a second.”
“I see that.” My door creaks as it hangs on one hinge. My front wheels are stuck between the concrete barrier and the wall. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“I’m surprised you don’t have Triple A on speed dial, princess.”
“I do, actually. But how do I explain those?” I point the deep imprints in the metal Garrett put there with his bare hands.
“I’ll take care of it. Most of my pack are mechanics. They can get this straight.”
“How are we going to get it back over the concrete barrier?”
Garrett’s busy shooting off a text. By the time he’s done, two big guys burst from the stairwell door. Again, I automatically step back.
“You remember Jared and Trey?”
“Hi, Counselor.” Jared, the one with the shaved head and tattoo sleeves, nods.
The heavily pierced one actually grins at me before he points to my car. “This the problem?”
“Yep.” Garrett pockets his cell phone. “Tank’s coming with a tow truck. But I don’t want to leave it until then.”
The two punks walk to either side of my car.
“How’s the weather?” Full Metal Face, also known as Trey, asks.
Garrett stands at the rear, sweeping a glance around the parking lot. “Old lady, three o’clock.”
The three of them lean against my car, looking casual as a woman crosses the parking lot, gets in her car, and drives off.
“All clear,” Garrett murmurs.
The men all bend over and get a grip on my car before lifting it as if weighs nothing. My jaw drops. Let the record reflect: Werewolves have superhuman strength. They carry it back into place, and set it gently down.
“Thanks, guys.” Garrett nods, and the two punks wink at me and disappear before I find my voice.
“I guess that works.”
“Tank will be here to tow it in a bit.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome, princess.”
So much for a normal Saturday. “I guess I’m going to miss yoga.”
“I can help you with that.”
“How? You going to teach me to hotwire a car?”
A grin, shake of his head. “I’ll do you one better.” He strides around a corner. The roar of motorcycle pipes herald his return.
“Oh no.” I shake my head as he glides up on a huge black Harley. “No way I’m getting on that thing.”
“Come on, Counselor.” He tosses me a helmet. “Live a little.”