Down & Dirty (Bundle) (10 page)

He panted for breath as he thrust again.
“That’s the idea, honey.”

She tossed her head and moved as much as she
could, rocking her hips back in a desperate grind. “I told you --
one of my fantasies.” Her voice broke when he drove into her again.
“Tell me one of yours.”

Maybe he should have found one of his
dirtiest fantasies. One of the wicked ones he dreamt about at
night, or the illicit thoughts he had when he jerked off in his bed
alone.

Instead he leaned over her again, pressing
his chest to her back as he settled into a grinding rock he knew
would push her over the edge. “Just like this, but I’m your
husband.”

He couldn’t tell at first whether her sharp,
indrawn breath was due to shock or pleasure. Then she tensed and
convulsed around him with a low wail. “Yes,” she rasped. “Yes, God,
I love you…”

Any hope of control dissolved at the words.
Pleasure rushed through him as he sank into her again and again,
fucking her through the first orgasm and into the second before he
gave himself permission to let go.

He bit the back of her shoulder as he came,
muffling the tortured groan as he found release in the hot depths
of her body. She was still writhing beneath him, whimpering and
rocking into his slowing thrusts, when he lifted his head and found
her ear with his lips. “I love you, Virginia Howard.”

She’d torn free of the ruined nightgown, and
she raised a shaking hand to his face. “Ginny Owens.” Her lips met
his in a tender kiss. “I like the sound of it.”

Exhausted, he collapsed to his side and
dragged her tight to his body. “As long as I can move in with you,
baby. My place isn’t exactly ranch material.”

She grinned against his shoulder and warned,
“I’ll have you doing chores before sunup.”

Better chores with the woman he loved than
one more lonely night in front of his fireplace. “I’ll hold you to
it.”

Ginny kissed him again as she wrapped her
arms around his neck. “I’m sorry you had to wait for me. I was…
scared of disappointing you.” She smiled ruefully. “Still am, I
suppose.”

“
Impossible.” And it was
true. Just her presence, her scent and the comforting press of her
power, mingling with his, soothed him so much it was hard to keep
his eyes open. “As long as you love me, it’s more than
enough.”

“
That,” she murmured
against his temple, “is a sure bet, honey.”

Lulled by the warmth of her body, he was
almost asleep when one last thought occurred to him. “Wait, I lied.
You do have one job from now on.”

“
Typical. What is
it?”

“
Starting tomorrow, all of
the hormonal young female wolves in the pack are having their
awkward sex talks with
you
.”

She laughed sleepily. “Deal.”

Calling the
Bluff

Hazel Young is a rare commodity in town: a
young, single female whose first mating is nearly upon her, and
she’s spent the last two years fending off suitors. After all,
there's nothing flattering about being wanted for the heat in her
blood instead of for herself...especially when she gave her heart
away to Oliver Russell years ago. But Oliver seems to feel nothing
for her but fond kindness, and the time has come to choose a mate
before the wolf makes the choice for her.

When Oliver happens across Hazel being
pressured by a local who wants to be her first, it awakens
protective instincts he thought he'd set aside with the death of
his wife five years ago. With Hazel in heat and no time to get her
to safety, they wind up in a fishing shack on Lonely River. They
have no choice but to ride out her mating fever together...even if
the last thing he expects is to be truly tempted by her
inexperienced attempts at seduction.

Chapter One

Hazel closed her eyes, propped her chin on
her hand and, for the fifth time that day, told herself it was time
to be a good girl and fuck Noah Hampton.

Even without looking she could feel his gaze
on her, a heavy weight fraught with anticipation. He’d brought
another courting gift to the Full Moon Saloon this afternoon, the
third in as many days. Hazel glanced down at cookbook resting on
the bar and admired its cheerful shiny cover. Finding books which
predated the War was a challenge, but she’d mentioned to him the
first time she met him that she loved books and he’d obviously
jumped through hoops to find a present she would value.

Few people out on the plains could afford
the luxuries of pre-War books and gadgets. Hazel had vague memories
of the cities back East, where rich people lived in the gigantic
skyscrapers that had once housed businesses with technology she
could only begin to imagine. People traded in odd relics of the
past, but the price had always been too steep for her mother’s
shallow pockets.

Noah Hampton was wealthy. He was strong and
handsome enough, and he was new to town, which at least made him
interesting. He knew when to talk and when to smile, and he’d made
it clear from the moment he’d set foot across the threshold of
Lottie’s saloon that he was more than willing to guide Hazel
through her first mating cycle.

Unlike most of the local boys, who’d spent
the last months trying to grab her ass or sneak a hand under her
skirt as a prelude to seduction, Noah had been comfortingly blunt
about the subject. He wanted to fuck her, to lock them both in a
room and satisfy every dirty urge she had or would have over the
several days it took for the mating fever to run its course, and
when it was over they could decide what to do from there.

He was perfect. He was fucking perfect.

Except for the fact that
she couldn’t summon the slightest interest in touching him.
Damn you, Oliver Russell.

“
If you stare at it long
enough, will it spontaneously combust?” Lottie’s polite, cultured
voice sounded particularly jovial, and she swept around the end of
the bar in a billow of skirts and pale blonde hair. “It’s a very
nice book, and it would be a shame.”

Hazel didn’t look up. “Is he still staring
at me?”

“
He is.” Lottie cleared her
throat. “I can tell him to go, or coax him upstairs for a visit
with one of the ladies.”

“
No.” She brushed her
fingers along the smooth cover and sighed. “Because the only person
he needs to be fucking is me, and I’d rather not do it here.” The
minute the words were out she regretted them. For the madam of the
town’s most profitable whorehouse, Lottie had some fairly strict
ideas about appropriate language.

“
Hazel Young.” One eyebrow
arched delicately as Lottie fixed her with a patient look. “There’s
no need to be crude about it. Your situation is entirely
normal
and
natural.”

“
Is it?” If her situation
was normal, she wouldn’t have ended up with so many people meddling
in her life. Everyone else spoke of their first mating as if it had
been a casual thing. Unimportant, unremarkable. No one had
mentioned craving one man so desperately even her wolf would have
nothing to do with anyone else.

“
Mmm.” Lottie leaned over
the bar, and her drawl became more noticeable as she spoke. “A word
of warning, though. Any man
that
smooth?” She nodded toward Noah. “Is rarely a good
idea.”

Which was the entire point. “At least a man
that smooth might know what he’s doing. Unlike the boys you keep
throwing at me.”

“‘
Nice’ doesn’t always
equal ‘inexperienced.’” Lottie’s gaze skipped past Hazel to the
door, and she swore under her breath and straightened.

Hazel didn’t need Lottie’s sudden descent
into foul language to know who had stepped into the saloon. It
should have been impossible to pick out one scent amidst the jumble
of smells that always permeated the saloon, but it wasn’t just any
scent. Her skin tingled and arousal crept through her, persistent
and demanding as she gave in and lifted her gaze to the door.

Oliver Russell stopped just
inside the room, his hat cradled in his hands. Hazel let her gaze
linger for a moment on the strong line of his jaw and his rugged
features, on his powerful shoulders and hard chest and the large
hands that she could almost
feel
on her skin…

His gaze swept the room and landed on her,
hesitating for just a moment. Then he walked to the bar and nodded
his head. “Miss Lottie. Miss Hazel.”

“
Good afternoon, Oliver.
What can I do for you?”

Again, that slight hesitation which might
have been Hazel’s imagination, only this time it was coupled with
something that looked like dismay. “Whiskey, please.”

Hazel was breathing too
fast, and the men in the saloon were starting to take notice. She
clamped down on the rising heat inside her until it almost
hurt
, then turned to find
the whiskey. Even with her back to Oliver, she could feel his
presence, and her hands trembled as she poured a shot and tried not
to listen to his voice as Lottie talked to him.

When she turned around with his glass,
Lottie took it from her. “Why don’t you go take a break,
sweetie?”

Hazel glanced at Oliver,
who looked nervous and self-conscious, and the truth of his visit
came to her in a rush. The tiny, feeble hope that maybe --
maybe --
he’d come to see
her faded.

Oliver was here for the reason he was always
here -- to visit the saloon’s only human girl, a sweet woman who
accommodated Oliver’s sexual needs. Maybe it would have been easier
if Hazel had been able to hate Melinda, but she was kind and
thoughtful, and even her wolf saw the human woman as no
competition.

Pain gave her sexual arousal a vicious edge,
and she met Oliver’s gaze without flinching. “Should I go fetch
Melinda for you? I’m sure she’s available.”

He returned her stare evenly. “I’d
appreciate it if you could tell her I’m here, and that I’ll be up
in a bit, if that suits her.”

So casual. So
cold
. She’d demanded his
blunt acknowledgement and he’d given it to her. Tears stung her
eyes as she shoved past Lottie, but she didn’t go to the curving
staircase leading to the second floor and the well-appointed rooms
where the ladies of the bar entertained.

Instead she went to the corner. To Noah.

He greeted her with a smile and a bow. “Miss
Hazel. Can you join me for a drink?”

Everyone was watching. Hazel pushed him back
into the chair and followed him. She settled on his lap and curled
an arm around his neck before leaning close to his ear. “I don’t
think I can wait any longer, Noah. I’m choosing you.”

His smile turned into a cocky, self-assured
grin. “And you won’t regret a minute of it, Hazel,” he whispered
and bit her earlobe. “Not a single minute.”

It wasn’t what the wolf
wanted, but the wolf had made her life miserable for the past three
months. She’d deal with Oliver Russell later, when the mating
instinct was gone and she could think clearly.
Because that’s all it is. The mating instinct.

As lies went, it was an
impressive one, but she chose to believe it. She
had
to.

Oliver picked up his third whiskey and
stared at it. He hadn’t meant to put that crushed look in Hazel’s
eyes, but she’d left him no choice. He couldn’t give her what she
wanted of him, but she’d left him no room, either. No way to go
about his own business without hurting her.

Now, a simpler woman waited for him
upstairs. Melinda, who was sweet and undemanding. Melinda, who he
rarely thought about until his libido grew tired of his own hand
and demanded the satisfaction of sinking into something warmer.
More comforting.