It felt so incredibly good as she rubbed herself against him, stimulating her clit through their clothing. Breathing was getting harder by the second, but she didn’t care. She ground her sex against his erection, drawing a groan from him.
He tugged the material of her dress over her breast, exposing it to his view. “Beautiful,” he breathed before he covered the tip with his mouth and sucked. Hard. Her pussy clenched. She felt empty. Needy.
She stroked his broad shoulders, the thick column of his neck and his chest. His skin was darker than hers, tanned a golden brown. His shirt frustrated her and she reached for the buttons. She was in a frenzy of need to have him.
A crash from the kitchen was as good as a bucket of cold water being thrown over her. What the hell was she doing?
She jerked away from Isaiah and stared at him, her chest heaving as she sucked in much needed air. He looked feral, an aroused male deprived of the female he wanted. His pupils were dilated, his nostrils flared with each breath. His lips were pursed together and his hands were fisted at his sides.
His erection pulsed against the front of his jeans and a sheen of sweat covered his skin. And he was staring at her chest.
Meredith looked down and gasped. Her breast was still exposed. She jerked the material back into place and took a step back, wobbling on her high heels. He reached out to steady her, but she took another step away. No telling what might happen if she let him touch her again.
“You need to leave.” Before she did something stupid like throw herself at him. She couldn’t believe she’d acted so wantonly with someone who was practically a stranger.
He nodded, but made no move to leave.
“They won’t wait much longer.” She indicated the kitchen door and he nodded his understanding.
“This isn’t finished.” His low, gritty voice, thick with passion, caressed her skin. She tried to ignore the way her breasts swelled and rubbed against the fabric of her dress.
She shook her head. “This is done. You need to leave and not come back.” On that, she was firm. Her family came before anyone, before anything else. It didn’t matter that she felt such a magnetic pull to this male. She knew nothing about him. He had no idea that four members of her pack were half-breeds, and she wasn’t willing to risk their safety just because she wanted to tear up the sheets with him.
Isaiah straightened his shirt and studied her. A slow smile turned up the corners of his lips. Her mouth went dry. He was handsome in a rugged way, but when he smiled he was irresistible. He reached out to touch her, but she tilted her head out of reach.
He chuckled. It was a rusty sound and seemed to surprise even him. “It’s not over, Meredith. It’s just getting started.”
A promise or a threat, she couldn’t be sure, but she suspected it was a bit of both. He turned and sauntered toward the door and let himself out. When the door shut behind him, the tension in the room escaped, much like the air leaving a balloon.
She put her hand to her lips, still able to feel his against them. Her skin felt extra sensitive and her body ached.
The door behind her pushed open. Meredith straightened and combed her fingers through her hair. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she turned to face her family.
All the males were scowling and Neema looked frightened.
They were all waiting for her to speak. Although her body cried out for Isaiah, the safety of her family came first. “We may have a problem.”
Steve Macmillan shoved open the door of an all-night diner and stepped inside, letting the door slam shut behind him. The waitress behind the counter glanced his way and then went back to filling the napkin dispensers she had lined up on the counter like good little soldiers.
One corner of his mouth crooked upward. He liked the thought of having as many soldiers at his disposal as she had napkin dispensers, but one made do with what one had.
What he had, for the foreseeable future, were the four men sitting at a corner table. Jones raised his head and nodded as Steve started toward them. “Coffee,” he barked at the waitress as he passed the counter.
She sighed, dropped the metal dispenser down on the counter and shuffled over to grab her coffee pot and a fresh cup. By the time Steve seated himself at the table, she was there beside him. Placing the cup in front of him, she filled it and then topped up the rest of the men’s half-empty mugs.
He put her age at about forty even though she looked older. Years of working a job like this had taken a toll on her body. Her hair was blonde with slightly graying roots. She’d probably been pretty once, but now she was no more than a pale shell of the young woman she’d been. She was about twenty pounds overweight and wore no wedding ring.
But she was quick and quiet and shuffled back behind the counter. He liked that in a woman. In the dark, he wouldn’t care if she had a few too many wrinkles. She had a great rack and a plump ass. All features he liked.
Maybe he’d meet her after work and let her take him home for a quick fuck.
“Boss.” Jones’s voice pulled him away from his meanderings. He ignored his hardened dick and got down to the work at hand.
Steve let his eyes wander around the small group. He knew Warren and Collins, and had worked with both men before. They were dependable, but better than that, they were loyal. They followed orders without question and would die in the name of the cause.
Which was good, because he had no intention of dying. His job was to find the bitch who’d killed his father. He’d been living and working out west when he’d gotten the news. His father, who’d been running the east coast hunters for the past five years, had been murdered by the female werebitch he’d kept as a pet. Steve hadn’t seen the female in years, but he’d find her and kill her if it was the last thing he did. So he’d come back east to take over his father’s position and look for his prey.
Steve had been raised to enter the family business—bounty hunting. And not just any kind of bounty hunting. No, his family were legendary werewolf hunters.
Most of the human population had no idea that paranormal creatures wandered among them. Steve had no pity for them. Cattle, all of them. Living according to the laws of some government that had long outlived its usefulness. No, he and his comrades believed in the freedom to live as they wanted, and that meant killing werewolves.
He’d grown up in the wilds of Washington State where his father had been stationed at the time. His father had taught him to hunt and fish. How to survive and how to hunt and kill werewolves. He’d also taught him to value his friends, but to watch his back.
He didn’t know the fourth man at their table at all. “Who are you?”
“Quinn.” The big, light-haired man leaned back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. Cocky sonofabitch. Steve respected that.
“Quinn came highly recommended from the Southeast faction,” Jones added.
Bounty hunters were an independent lot, but they maintained loose communications. All the better to capture their prey. He’d check on Quinn himself. He didn’t trust anyone, especially not a fucking new guy.
“Why am I here?” He wanted this meeting over. He was in the mood to get laid and he planned to let the waitress fill his needs, generous soul that he was. He looked over at her, already feeling her large tits cradling his cock as he fucked her mouth. It was a great way to get off, keep a woman quiet and not have to worry about wearing a rubber.
“I caught a glimpse of a guy watching Riley’s Garage. He moved like one of them.”
His gaze jerked back to Warren. No need to ask who he meant by one of them. “Who?”