Down & Dirty 3 Ante Up

Chapter One

“Here we go.” Lottie set the silver tea service on the table with a clink and beamed at her guests. “Oh, I forgot to ask if you’d prefer coffee, Jack.”

The alpha smiled and rubbed a hand through his tousled hair. “Coffee would be great, Lottie.”

Ginny eyed the tray with a delicately arched brow. “Booze is perfectly appropriate to serve after dinner too, you know.”

Lottie tried not to snort as she straightened and headed back for the kitchen. “Coffee and whiskey, coming up.”

She rattled the percolator on the stove, deliberately making more noise than necessary. The house was too quiet, had been since Hazel had moved out, and Lottie found herself trying to fill the silence. She called out into the parlor, “Have either of you seen Hazel and Oliver yet?”

The sound of Jack’s snort drifted into the kitchen. “I stopped by for about five minutes. Longest five minutes of my life.”

Ginny just laughed. “Turns out, my fiancé only likes overt displays of affection when they involve his hands and my ass.”

Lottie drifted back to the open doorway as the coffee began to brew. “She’s young and in love.”

“Mm-hmm. Oliver’s got the love part down, but he’s no spring chicken.” Ginny grinned. “If Hazel’s not careful, she’s going to kill him.”

“He seems in fine shape to me.” Lottie wove her hands together and watched as Ginny reached for Jack’s hand and twined their fingers together. She didn’t even seem to be aware she’d done it. “I’ll wait a week or so longer before I go calling, though. Just to be on the safe side.”

Her friend flashed her a pointed look. “And what about you? I noticed Thomas has been stopping by a lot lately, and he asks me about you all the time.”

“Ginny.” Jack sounded exasperated. “I told you to keep your nose out of it.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I just want to know when she’s going to put the poor man out of his misery, that’s all. It isn’t right.”

Lottie’s back stiffened, and her easy smile almost faltered. She knew from experience that neither of them would notice her small slip of control. “Thomas Crawford is a very nice man,” she said carefully.

“Nice.” Ginny blew out a breath. “Most people consider that a plus, Lottie.”

“It is, I’m sure.”

“So how come, when you say it, you make it sound like he has the plague?”

Lottie stifled a disgusted noise and turned back to the kitchen. The image of Thomas’s face, smiling and thoughtful, rose in her mind. She pushed it away as she checked the coffee. Thomas might have been carefully, persistently courting her, but he had yet to indicate anything beyond a polite interest. And she’d rather be alone than married to a man only politely interested in her.

Ginny had followed her and was standing in the doorway, so Lottie lied. “I’m not looking to marry right now, that’s all.” She’d never planned on coming to Greenbriar to open a business, much less a brothel, but there’d been a need and it had seemed smart to fill it… and make a bundle of money in the process. So what if that had left her no time to fulfill her original goal -- to find someone to love?

Ginny wore a dark look on her face. “You’re lying. You’d be happier than a frog in a puddle, and you know it.”

Lottie accidentally brushed her hand against the hot metal of the percolator and drew it back with a hiss. She watched as the reddened patch of skin slowly disappeared. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to marry the first man to ask me. Which Thomas hasn’t done, by the way.”

“He’s far from the first man to ask,” Ginny countered. “And he’d probably get around to asking if you seemed the slightest bit inclined to accept.”

“Virginia.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“You’re lonely.”

“I’m --” Lottie’s voice broke, and she cleared her throat. “I’m fine, Ginny, but thank you for your concern.” She pulled another china pot from a cabinet and filled it with the fragrant, steaming coffee. “You know where the whiskey decanter is. Help yourself, and let’s visit and talk about something else.”

The scuff of boots across the floor was the only warning before Jack appeared at Ginny’s shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to listen, Lottie, but you know I could hear everything. Can I just say one thing? And then we’ll both keep out of it.”

As if he could make that promise for stubborn-ass Ginny Howard. She kept her voice steady as she replied. “Of course, Jack. You’re always welcome to be frank with me, you know that.”

Jack smiled. “Thomas has to act nice and restrained, because the humans have to feel safe dealing with him. That’s his job as my second. But there’s a lot more to him than most people see, and he’s got it bad for you. You don’t have to give him a chance, but at least let him know he doesn’t have one.”

His words kindled a thread of hope in Lottie. She and Thomas got on well enough, and she’d enjoyed the scant amount of time she’d spent alone with him. The only thing that had been missing between them was the fire. The passion. “I’ll bear that in mind, Jack.”

“Good.” Jack’s hand curled around the back of Ginny’s shoulder in a possessive gesture. “And we’re going to stay out of it, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

Ginny’s mouth twisted into a dissatisfied pout, but she nodded. “You’re right, Lottie. Let’s talk about something else.”

Lottie used a quilted potholder to lift the coffee pot. “Thank you, Ginny. I’m dying to know if you’ve made any of your own wedding arrangements yet.”

The taller woman blushed, and Lottie knew Ginny had been adequately distracted from meddling in affairs between herself and Thomas. She stifled a sigh of relief and followed the couple back into the parlor. The less she had to think about what she’d do or say when Thomas did get around to proposing, the better.

* * *

It was too late for a social call, so the pounding on the front door could mean nothing good. Thomas’s suspicions were confirmed when a tense voice called out, “Open up, Crawford! We’ve got a grievance.”

When Jack had lived in this house, werewolves had approached with respect and humans not at all. No one felt the same awe for Thomas, though, that they afforded the alpha. Sighing, Thomas set aside his book and resolved himself to another evening spent soothing angry werewolves who thought that permission to run in the woods behind the house meant permission to intrude at all hours instead of waiting for him to be in his office in town.

Tonight’s angry visitors proved to be a trio of businessmen. It took him several moments to make the connection between them, but it clicked into place in his head as he rested his hand on the edge of the door. Between them, the three men owned two brothels in town. The only proprietor of liquor and ladies not present and accounted for was Charlotte Daniel.

This is going nowhere good.

The tallest man cleared his throat. “We’re having what you could call a business problem, Crawford, and we’d like for Jack to check it out.”

It didn’t take a genius to guess what their problem would be, but Thomas had a job to do -- one that involved listening to even the most absurd complaints. He pulled the door open and stepped back, gesturing for the men to step inside. “It’s late, but I have a few minutes if you’d like to talk.”

The second man thanked him and fidgeted with his hat. “It’s about Miss Lottie over at the Full Moon. She’s bribing all the best girls to come over and work for her. Plus, she’s brazen about them servicing humans.”

Translation: she’s making more money than we are. Thomas kept his expression serene even in the face of the irrational protective anger that rose inside him. “Do you have any evidence she’s bribing anyone?” he asked, tackling the easier question first.

“Just one girl. Said Miss Lottie had offered her something I hadn’t.” His eyes darkened. “I asked her how much, but she wouldn’t say.”

Probably security. Jack made sure all of the girls in town were safe -- the one man who’d tried to open a brothel where the women weren’t protected had ended up in pieces -- but safe didn’t always equal content.

Before Thomas could reply, the third man, who had remained silent so far, spoke up. “Nobody really gives a damn about the bribes. It’s low, but it ain’t against the law. The humans, that’s the real problem.”

Of course it was, because it involved female werewolves letting human men into their beds. Not a one of them got up in arms when male wolves found a sweet young human to romance. Hypocrites. “Far as I can recall, gentlemen, there aren’t any laws about humans and werewolves keeping their hands to themselves.”

“There ain’t no laws, but it ain’t right, either.”

The second man held up a hand to quiet his friend. “Look, Crawford. I got nothing against humans. Let ’em do whatever they want. But there’s rules about what can go on with the girls and what can’t, rules we all agreed on and follow. All the wolves know the penalties for acting a fool when they’re visiting upstairs. But Jack ain’t got no jurisdiction over the humans.”

Thomas fought back a snort at the idea of any human man surviving the sort of wrath Lottie brought down on anyone who misbehaved in her establishment. Instead he nodded. “True, there’s no technical jurisdiction. But I think you’re underestimating how much the mayor and the sheriff pay attention to Jack’s opinion on things.” Which was the nice, politically correct way of pointing out that Jack might as well run the damn town.

The tall man shook his head. “I told you all this was a waste of time.”

The reasonable one was starting to look a bit panicked around the eyes, so Thomas cleared his throat. “Not saying that. You brought a complaint, and Jack will look into it. What sort of resolution would satisfy you?”

They shifted uncomfortably, none of them willing to say it. Finally, the spokesman inclined his head. “It might be easier for us to keep our girls if we knew what Lottie was offering. And -- And if we could maybe all come to an agreement about wages…”

Irritation flashed through Thomas again, more insistent this time. “You might not want Jack involved in any agreement you make about wages. If the alpha lays down a law, you can be sure he’ll stay busy making sure everyone follows it.” Which I’m sure none of you plan to.

The man held up his hand. “We’ll work it out amongst ourselves, I suppose. But we still need to know there’s nothing untoward happening to the girls over there.”

Which was an insult in and of itself, and explained why they’d come to him instead of Jack. He went out of his way to seem affable and easygoing -- the kind of man you could insult to his face and live to tell about it. And if that weren’t the best way to protect my pack, I’d kick all of your asses here and now.

Knowing that his job required a certain demeanor didn’t make it easier to stay calm. He felt his power flare with his temper and could tell by the way they fidgeted that they had too. He cursed silently and forced his power back into its carefully locked box. “I’ll look into it, gentlemen.”

“Thank you, Crawford.” The other two men mumbled grudging thanks, as well, and they disappeared through the door and into the night.

Thomas considered indulging himself by slamming the door shut behind them, but he’d slipped enough by letting his temper off the leash. He was supposed to be the polite one. The civilized one. His approachability made it possible for Jack to rule with the sort of brutal strength it took to keep the wilder werewolves in line.

Few besides Jack had any inkling that the pack’s beta had that same strength in him. Thomas didn’t mind playing second fiddle to Jack’s tough and manly routine, but it got considerably less tolerable when people took it as license to insult him to his face. As if we’d let any of the women in Lottie’s place be mistreated, even if she allowed it.

But it wasn’t about that, and they all knew it. Lottie made money hand over fist with her smart business practices and her careful treatment of the people in her employ, and it drove the men crazy. They wanted that income, and they’d do anything to get it.

And their complaint tonight had been a trap. He remembered the muttered words of the angriest man: I told you all this was a waste of time. His interest in Charlotte was hardly a secret. If he didn’t make a lot of fuss in investigating their allegations, the people who hated Lottie would take it as proof that she got to do whatever she wanted because she had the beta tucked in her pocket. They’d assume the only way to get to her would be outside the law.

People making that same assumption about Virginia Howard had led to bloodshed and death a few short months ago. Jack had been forced to kill a member of the pack, and resentment still seethed under the surface. Add in the possessive distaste most male wolves had for the idea of humans touching their women, and Thomas was sitting on a powder keg that could explode at any minute.

Which meant paying Lottie a visit tomorrow. And not the kind he’d hoped to, where he asked her on a walk and tried to ascertain if he was wasting his time with his careful courtship. The kind that would pretty much ensure she’d never think kindly of him again.

Sometimes I hate my job.

Chapter Two

Lottie heard the quiet squeak of the door hinges even over the music from the piano and the Friday afternoon chatter around the main hall. She looked up from the papers laid out on her corner table out of habit.

Her heart seized when Thomas Crawford stepped through the swinging doors. The obvious strength in his tall, solid frame stole her breath, and she chided herself for acting like a young girl with a crush. He’s just a man, and you’ve had your share of those, she told herself. Calm down.

Shorty, the quiet man who’d taken over tending bar part-time since Hazel’s departure, raised a hand in greeting. “’Afternoon, Thomas.”

“Shorty.” Thomas paused by the bar and smiled. “How’re things this afternoon?”

“Not bad. Gettin’ busy, though.” Shorty raised an empty glass. “Drink?”

Lottie tensed. He had to want a drink. If he wasn’t there to drink, then he was either there to see her… or to go upstairs, which was something he’d never done, not in the three years she’d been open for business.

Thomas flashed her a regretful look that answered that question even before he shook his head at the bartender. “Here on business. Maybe later.”

She relaxed as she began to gather the invoices from the table, but only a little. “Business” could mean almost anything, and his look hadn’t been particularly encouraging. “Why don’t you accompany me into my office, Mr. Crawford? Shorty, ring if you need anything, all right?”

Shorty nodded and went back to wiping the bar.

Lottie stood and tucked the sheaf of papers into the crook of her arm. Thomas knew the way to her office, but she gestured toward the narrow hallway at the back of the main room anyway. “How have you been?”

He fell into step next to her and smiled a little. “Whenever you call me Mr. Crawford it makes me feel old.”

She willed her heart not to pound as she pushed open the door and held it for him. “Well, I wouldn’t want that, Thomas.” She held her breath as he walked past, then bit her lip as she closed the door behind them. “Is it pack business that brings you here?”

“A little pack business, a little of the more… mundane sort.” He cleared his throat. “Can I sit down?”

“Make yourself at home,” she told him, gesturing to a plush chair. She stowed the paperwork and leaned her hip against the edge of her walnut desk. “What is it?”

“I want to say first, Charlotte… I’m only here because of the state of the pack. Because of what happened when the men tried to cause trouble for Virginia.”

Though the mention of the threat to Ginny made her want to growl and bare her teeth, Lottie only sighed and offered him a small smile. “Which one complained about me?” It had to be one of the other brothel owners. They’d always hated her. Lately, everyone’s business had been flagging except for hers. “Or did they finally wise up and come to you as a cohesive group?”

He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “You have to understand that I don’t for a minute believe any of the things they’ve said, but if I don’t follow up, it could cause trouble.”

She had to laugh at his nervous expression. “I know that, honey. It’s your job.” Honey? That’s very businesslike, Charlotte. Good job. “Is it about Sarabeth? Ira Braswell has been trying to find out for the last two weeks why she left his place and came to work for me.”

“They brought it up,” he admitted. “But their main complaint -- and the one they could cause the most mischief with -- is the fact that the humans are going upstairs.”

“Mmm.” She walked around her desk and sank into her leather office chair. After a moment, she folded her arms on the desk. “Not all of the women care to entertain human men. There are also those who don’t care one way or the other, and even a few who prefer them.” She arched an eyebrow. “Is that any different from the werewolves who come here to avail themselves of Melinda’s very human services?”

Thomas held up both hands. “You won’t get any arguments from me, Lottie. I’m not saying it’s right. I’m not even saying most of the men around here would know why it bothered them. But you know how the males get when women are scarce. The strong overpower the weak, and no werewolf is weaker than a human. It’s instinct.”

The scarcity of available women was exactly why she’d opened the Full Moon in the first place. She studied Thomas’s face while she tried to formulate a reply. “I appreciate the position you’re in, but I’m not going to refuse service to humans. I don’t really see that as any different than Gerald Watson refusing to seat me in his restaurant or Bonnie Kim telling me she won’t sell me a dress because I’m a wolf. And I’m not all right with that, not in the least. I’m sorry.”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away from her. “You may not have a choice, Charlotte. I can try my hardest to smooth this over, but there’s going to come a point where Jack has to make a hard choice. One or two complaints we can handle. But if it gets out of hand… just think about it. Please?”

Anger prickled over Lottie’s skin, and she gritted her teeth. “I’ll follow whatever decisions Jack makes, you can be sure of that.”

“Lottie --” Now he just sounded frustrated. “I think it’s stupid too. But I have to do my job, whether I agree with it or not.”

She rose and stalked around the desk. “I didn’t know your job included placating insecure, bigoted men.”

His gaze snapped to hers, and she felt the first taste of his power as he scowled. “Actually, my job includes placating everyone.”

“Then it’s a miracle you haven’t already snatched yourself bald, Thomas Crawford,” Lottie shot back fiercely, ignoring the lash of power that whipped through the room. She braced her hands on the arms of his chair and leaned down until her eyes were level with his. “Because no one can make everyone happy. Just doesn’t work.”

“Welcome to my life, Lottie.” And if the raw pain in his voice hadn’t been indication enough she’d struck a nerve, what he did next would have been. Because he kissed her.

He didn’t coax or tease. His tongue drove past her lips and slid over hers, and she choked on a moan as fire shot through her. Her hands curled around his arms as she tumbled into his lap. One strong hand cupped the back of her neck, and Jack’s words came back to her. He’s got it bad for you.

She hadn’t believed him. But now, with Thomas kissing her as though he’d never stop, she knew it was true. So Lottie tilted her head and kissed him back, pouring out every bit of her own frustrated desire.

Thomas groaned, and power rose between them so fast she was sure people out in the bar would feel it. His hands found her shoulders and he pushed her back with another hoarse moan. “Lottie -- God, Lottie, I’m sorry --”

It took her a moment to process his words, to realize he was apologizing, and she scrambled off his lap, horrified. “It’s all right.” The words came out sounding shaky, and Lottie smoothed her skirt so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “No harm done.”

“No, not for that.” He moved so fast she was on the desk with his hands planted on either side of her hips before she realized he’d picked her up. “For this. I’m sorry for this.” One hand slid up to curl around the back of her neck as he kissed her again.

Her hands skidded over the polished wood and then she reached for him, driving her fingers into his hair. An empty ache bloomed inside her, and she cried out at the thought of him filling it. Filling her. “Don’t be sorry,” she gasped against his lips. “Just don’t stop.”

He fumbled at the knot in her hair for a few seconds before finding the pins and pulling them free. The strands tumbled down and he wound them around his hand and inched her head back. “I have been trying to court you for a month,” he whispered against her chin. “You ignored me.”

If he’d kissed her like this, just once, ignoring him would have been impossible. “You acted like you didn’t feel this. I didn’t know.”

“You wanted me to grope you in inappropriate ways in front of the whole town?” His mouth found a sensitive spot on the underside of her jaw. “That would have been an unusual courtship method.”

Lottie shivered, and her nipples tightened almost to the point of pain. “No, I just meant --”

He cut off her words with another kiss, and she forgot what she was going to say anyway. Her lips parted under his again, and hunger overwhelmed her. Need drove away everything but Thomas, and she dropped her hands to tug at the buttons of his vest.

The hand in her hair slid down her back and along her hip, and he curled his fingers in her skirt as he broke their kiss again. “You should kick me out,” he murmured. He gathered her skirt inch by inch, sliding it up her legs. “If you don’t, I don’t think I’m going to stop.”

She didn’t answer, just kicked off her low-heeled shoes and pulled him closer as she started slipping free the buttons of his shirt. The thought of stopping was ridiculous, unimaginable. Unbearable.

Thomas groaned and dragged her hands away, then pulled his shirt over his head without bothering to finish unbuttoning it. “Tell me you want this, at least.”

Lottie couldn’t remember a time she hadn’t wanted him to touch her like this. “I want you,” she whispered, transfixed by the play of muscle under skin as he moved. “Thomas, please.”

He groaned again and smoothed a hand up her leg, under her dress. “Tell me,” he repeated as his thumb brushed her inner thigh. “It’s the only good thing I’ve heard in weeks.”

“I thought about this.” She leaned into him and spoke in between the soft kisses she pressed to his chest. “I waited for you to touch or kiss me, something. Anything.”

A growl worked its way out of his chest, which vibrated under her mouth. “I was trying to be polite.” His thumb swept higher, teasing along the edge of her underwear. “Respectful, even.”

“You did an admirable job,” she admitted, arching toward his hand. “But now you need to fuck me.”

“Is that so?” He lifted his head and stared down at her with rough, unmasked need -- a raw expression she’d never seen on his face before. “Do you know what you’re asking, Lottie? I’m a werewolf who hasn’t had a woman in three years. You should know --”

“Yes.” There wouldn’t be anything controlled or careful about it. He’d be hard and rough. Wild. Anticipation made her whimper, and unsated desire sharpened the ache between her thighs. She caught his face between her hands. “I know, Thomas, and I want that. I want you.”

His thumb pressed between her legs, rubbing wicked, taunting little circles against her clit through her underwear. Without taking his eyes from hers he shifted his head and caught the heel of her hand between his teeth with a low growl.

Lottie’s head snapped back as pleasure flooded her, as much from his ardor as the firm touch on her clit. She cut off a desperate, almost animal noise by biting into her bottom lip. Her hips jerked, and she fell back on the smooth wood of the desk.

A moment later Thomas was hovering over her, one hand planted next to her head while the other continued its wicked caress. “If you want me to fuck you on your desk, Charlotte, you are damn well going to come first. Maybe more than once.”

She tried to brace herself, to ground herself in reality even though the world was spinning away in a haze of heat and need, but all she managed to do was knock a marble paperweight to the floor. “Thomas --” His name dissolved into a low cry. “More.”

The fabric of her panties gave way with a tear. He watched her face as his hand returned, rubbing against slick, sensitive flesh this time before he pivoted his hand and thrust two fingers into her. “Like that?”

Everything was burning fast and hot inside her, and she was going to scream. Lottie couldn’t hold back her tortured moan so she gripped his back, nails digging into his flesh, and sank her teeth into his shoulder.

“Yes,” he rasped. His breath blew hot against her neck as he lowered his mouth and licked over her throbbing pulse. “That’s right. This is what I imagine doing to you when I’m not being respectable.”

His words snapped the thread of tension his touch had woven. She couldn’t scream, after all, because she couldn’t breathe, could only writhe under him and wish for the ecstasy to never end.

And just when she thought it would, he closed his teeth on her neck with a possessive growl and worked a third finger into her. The hard thrust of his fingers sent another orgasm tearing through her, and she bit him harder as she fought not to shriek in pleasure.

He stroked her as she came down, the gentle touch of his fingers a stark contrast to the hot, dangerous look in his eyes. “How do you like it, Lottie? Like this?” His hands hooked under her body and lifted her easily, pressing her to his broad chest. “Do you like to be on top?” Her feet hit the ground for just a moment before he turned her and pressed his hard cock against her ass. “Or do you like the animal inside us?”

Her hands slipped on the desk as she rocked back. “Like this, like -- God, hurry. I need to feel you inside me.” Her neck stung where he’d bitten her, and she knew he’d bear bruises from her teeth. “I need to be yours.”

“Mine.” His hands dragged her dress out of the way and she heard him fumbling with his pants. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” She could barely force out the whisper, even though it was the truth. The truth was stark, terrifying. It could break her heart. “I need to be yours.”

“Good.” He squeezed her hip and held her steady as he thrust into her with one long, powerful stroke. His tortured groan filled the room as he leaned over and pressed his chest to her back. “You’re mine.”

It wasn’t how she’d imagined sex with Thomas Crawford. Even in her fantasies, he was usually slow, careful. He didn’t drive his cock into her hard enough to lift her off the floor. He didn’t claim her, not like this.

It was perfection.

It felt so good already, and he hadn’t even started moving. Papers crumpled under her hands, and Lottie tossed her head back. “I’ll never be quiet enough,” she warned.

He slapped his hand down on the desk next to her and growled in her ear. “Then bite me.”

Lottie knew she might have to, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to drive him crazy. Her tongue traced a delicate path up the inside of his arm, and she growled back at him. “What about you?”

Thomas pulled back and laughed low in his throat as he surged forward again. “My whole life is not yelling when I want to. But even that might not be enough to keep me quiet with the way you feel…”

A shiver ran through her, and she ground back against him. “How do I feel?”

“Hot and tight and perfect.” His mouth brushed along her jaw. “So damn perfect.”

Lottie turned her face to his and kissed him gently. “Perfect,” she echoed. The only things holding her back -- his reserve and her own misjudgments -- had vanished, so she let go, abandoning herself to him. “Thomas.”

He rocked into her again. “Lottie.”

She hissed in a breath and shuddered. “What?”

Wet heat closed around her earlobe a moment before she felt the scrape of his teeth. He chuckled, and air tickled her cheek. “Maybe I just want you to keep saying my name.”

“Thomas,” she whispered again, wiggling her hips as she raised one foot to stroke his calf. “Thomas.”

He growled and bit her ear as his hand tightened on her hip. “Don’t wiggle so damn much. I’m barely holding on as it is.”

“Why do you think I’m doing it?” Frustration lent her voice a sharp edge, and she bucked in his grasp. “You’re making me rethink the question of whether I want to be on top.”

“Lottie --” His breath caught and he let it out on a hoarse curse. “Three years, woman. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Lottie brushed her lips over his cheek. One of his hands still rested on the desk beside her, and she twined her fingers with his. “I trust you.”

Thomas closed his eyes and tried to summon up some of his infamous self-control. But he’d come here expecting Lottie to hate him, and somehow he’d ended up sheathed in her body and barreling toward the sort of rough, desperate sex that would leave a poor first impression. And that was the last thing he wanted to do. Somehow it had to be good enough that she’d ask him to touch her again. A hundred more times. A thousand more --

Her body gripped his cock as he slid back, telling himself he’d go slow. He meant it too, until she whimpered again and the need to claim her overrode all sense. With one hand still braced next to her head, he slipped the other under her body and held her steady as he gave in to the pressing need and thrust into her.

Lottie shuddered under him and moaned, a throaty, pleased sound that scattered what was left of his control. “Harder,” she begged. “Please.”

So he thrust again, harder, burying himself in the warmth of her body with a satisfied groan. She felt so good, more perfect than he’d imagined. And not even his fantasies had provided him with the truth, the way she moved back against him when he pulled away, as if she couldn’t bear for him to leave her.

“So good.” Her head hit his shoulder, and her whimpers turned into sharp, pleading gasps. “Don’t stop, Thomas -- You can’t ever stop --”

“I won’t.” He couldn’t; he’d lost control of his actions. She was tight and wet and so fucking hot, and he couldn’t slow his pace. He slammed forward so hard she gasped, and pleasure took on a sharp edge as he felt release moving closer. “God, come for me, Lottie, come for me.”

“I --” Her voice cracked, swept away in a breathless scream as she came. Her body convulsed around his, drawing him deeper, holding him even as he buried his face in her neck to muffle his shout of release as pleasure crashed over him. He drove into her one last time and bit the side of her neck as three years of built up tension exploded.

She cried out again and wove her fingers into his hair, holding his head. She panted and trembled, murmured to him in soft whispers that soothed him as surely as her words before had excited him.

The sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway and Hazel’s voice calling Lottie’s name was somewhat less soothing.

Thomas swore and jerked away, barely managing to get Lottie off of the desk before the door crashed open. Lottie’s skirts slid down around her legs and mostly blocked his open pants from Hazel’s gaze, but nothing could hide the evidence of what had just happened.

The young woman took in the scattered desk before her gaze jumped to Lottie’s disheveled hair. Hazel’s nostrils flared slightly and her eyes widened. “Oh my God!”

To her credit, Lottie sounded almost calm when she spoke. “Hazel, excuse us, please. Wait for me at the bar.”

Hazel gaped. “You were -- you two -- Oh Jesus.” She backed out hastily and slammed the door behind her.

Lottie sighed shakily and smoothed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should have locked the door.” She peered up at him with amused green eyes. “I didn’t know our conversation would take such an… intriguing turn.”

Thomas thought he might be blushing for the first time in about a decade. He fumbled with his pants and tried not to laugh. “I suppose now we’ve scared about five years off Hazel’s life.”

“She’s young. She can spare them.” Lottie retrieved his shirt and vest from the floor. “Serves her right for barging in. Though I suppose I was loud.” Her cheeks colored.

“She never was a fan of knocking.” He pulled his shirt back over his head and spent a few moments on the buttons as he fought the memory of Lottie’s voice, loud and breathless as she wrapped her lips around his name… That is not going to help.

She made a small noise of agreement and slipped into her shoes. “We need --” Lottie broke off on a sigh and faced him. “Spend the weekend with me.”

Thomas froze. “What?”

She looked shocked by her own words, but determined. “Think of it as a sort of… trial run. Crash test compatibility. And I can -- can give you an answer to that question you haven’t asked me yet.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. “You mean the question of whether you’d consider marrying me?”

“Yes, that question.” Her eyes darkened, and she smiled. “Unless… it’s not something you meant to ask. In which case, I think I’ll crawl under my desk and hide for a few years.”

Thomas lifted his hands and framed Lottie’s face. “I would have asked a long time ago if you’d seemed interested.”

Her smile widened, then faded. “This is terrible timing. I understand if you can’t, you know. Because of your investigation.”

He hadn’t even thought of it, which showed how scrambled his brain was. He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Hazel’s voice followed. “Are you coming out or are you going at it a second time?”

Lottie glanced at the door with a short sigh. “Tonight. Come by for dinner, and we can talk about it then.” She tugged him down for a quick kiss. “No one can fault you for dinner.”

“Dinner,” Thomas agreed softly, even as Hazel knocked again. He rolled his eyes and raised his voice. “Can you give us a few minutes, Hazel?”

“Sure,” came the upset reply. “I probably won’t throw up again in the next five minutes, but if I do you’re cleaning it up.”

Lottie handed him his vest and hurried to the door. “Hazel, what’s going on? Are you sick?”

“Possibly. Or my new husband is incredibly virile.”

And that was Thomas’s cue to leave. He shrugged into his vest. “Why don’t I get out of your way, Charlotte. If you need to postpone our plans, just send someone by Jack’s office with a note. I’ll be there all afternoon.”

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure,” she said distractedly, already wrapping an arm around Hazel’s shoulders. “Six o’clock?”

“On the dot,” he promised. “But if you need anything before then…” He caught her gaze and nodded at Hazel. “Don’t hesitate to come and get me.”

Lottie smiled. “We’ll be all right, Thomas. Nothing wrong with Hazel, I bet. Not in the least.” Her eyes darkened. “I’ll see you this evening.”

He wanted to say something else, to find some excuse to linger in her presence, but with Hazel huddled in her arms and fairly radiating nervous misery, there was nothing to do but nod and retreat.

Lottie bit her lip as Thomas all but ran off. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. They’d have plenty of time to talk. “How long have you been getting sick, Hazel?”

“I’m not sure. A week maybe?” Hazel looked exhausted and, with Thomas gone, her brave facade wilted. “We’re only just married, and I don’t even know if he wants children this soon. I -- I was taking care of things so it wouldn’t happen until we were sure…”

“Sit.” Lottie guided her to a chair and managed not to blush when she glanced at her disheveled desk. Once she had Hazel safely in a chair, she turned to the table by the window and poured a glass of water. “Have you talked to Oliver about your suspicions yet?”

Hazel twisted her hands together and shook her head. “I don’t want to say anything unless -- unless I know. He gets so upset if he thinks anything might be wrong with me, and when he gets overprotective I throw things at him, and then --” For once, Hazel actually looked self-conscious. “That sort of sex probably isn’t good if I’m pregnant now.”

“Babies are remarkably resilient, honey, even in the womb. It’s probably fine.”

“How do I know?” Hazel accepted the glass of water, but reached out with her free hand and grasped Lottie’s. “I don’t know how to find out. Do I -- do I just wait?”

“You probably don’t have to.” There hadn’t been much in the way of reliable pregnancy tests, not since the plague that had rendered everyone technophobic and thrust society back two centuries. “There are changes, even this early, that can be recognized if you know what to look for. Doctor Baker can do that.”

“Will you go with me?”

“Oh, honey.” Lottie brushed Hazel’s hair back from her face. “Of course I will. We’ll call on him right now, how about that?”

“That would be --” Hazel broke off, her expression growing ill again. “Oh, God, doesn’t it stop? I think I’m going to be sick again.”

A quick step took Lottie back to her desk. She grabbed the small metal wastebasket and held it, one hand still stroking Hazel’s hair. They’d visit the doctor, and she’d make sure Hazel felt comfortable speaking to her husband about their situation.

Then, she’d spend the rest of her weekend hiding from the world, entirely focused on Thomas.

Chapter Three

Lottie had just finished her bath and was going to check on dinner before dressing when the heavy brass knocker hit the front door. Thomas. She wasn’t really decent, not in just a robe, but she supposed they’d passed decency when he’d taken her on her desk that afternoon.

Memories of his body inside hers heated her cheeks, and she cursed silently as she opened the door.

Thomas was a gentleman but, she was pleased to note, not so much of one that his gaze didn’t dip before he dragged it back up to her face. “I’m sorry. I’m early.”

“It’s all right. Come in.” She fought the urge to reach for him as she stepped aside. “How was your afternoon?”

“Long and boring.” He hesitated just inside the door and leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek in a soft kiss that was gone too fast. “How is Hazel?”

“Pregnant,” Lottie admitted. “Excited, confused, scared. We spent a few hours at Doctor Baker’s office. She had a million questions. I think she’s in shock.”

Thomas shrugged out of his coat. “Does Oliver know yet?”

“She’s telling him tonight.” Lottie took his coat and draped it over her arm, but temptation got the better of her. She slid her other hand around the back of his neck and tugged him down until his lips met hers.

He groaned and caught her around the waist, dragging her up his body and into a deeper kiss that ended before she’d gotten a chance to enjoy it. Thomas panted roughly against her cheek, but didn’t let her down. “Maybe I shouldn’t touch you right now, because I am bound and determined to get you into a bed next time.”

“Dinner’s warming, but it’ll keep.” Her fingers brushed his cheek, and her body heated. “We could go upstairs.”

The sound of his pounding heart echoed in her ears as he pressed a hot kiss to the base of her throat. “Playing civilized is a hard habit to break, Lottie. And you deserve more than being turned over the nearest piece of furniture every damn time I touch you.”

She arched her head back further, inviting more kisses. “Even if it’s what I want?”

“Do you?” His teeth closed lightly over her pulse. “I may have a hard time keeping my hands off you, but the sorts of things I want to do with you mean more than a fast fuck on a desk.”

The import of his words sent a shiver through her. “I know. I just… like knowing you want me.” The way I want you.

Thomas laughed. “Charlotte, I should think you wouldn’t wonder at the moment.” One strong hand settled low on her back and rocked her against him. “I don’t think I’m being particularly subtle.”

The heat of his cock grinding against her through her robe was overwhelming. “Take me upstairs, Thomas.” Lottie’s hands shook as she clutched his shoulders. “It doesn’t have to be fast. We could go slow.”

“We can try, anyway.” He hefted her a little higher and urged her legs around his hips. “Never been upstairs before, darling. Point me in the right direction?”

“Second door on the left is my bedroom,” she whispered, already engrossed in exploring the soft skin under his collar.

She could barely recall a time when she hadn’t watched Thomas and wondered what he was like under the calm front he always presented. If he’d approach everything in the same unruffled manner, or if there was something more burning inside him. She’d gotten a taste of that passion that afternoon in her office, and she wanted more. She wanted him.

And he seemed determined to grant her wish. His fingers rubbed small, gentle circles against her back as he carried her to the bedroom. “Tell me,” he whispered as he lowered her to the bed. “There are so many things I want to do. The man wants to take his time, to make love to you. The wolf…”

His struggle reflected the one inside her, woman versus wolf. “We have time, Thomas. It might feel desperate at first, but we have time to get past that.” She pulled at the knotted belt of her robe. “Don’t worry so much.”

The corner of his mouth twisted up in a sad little smile. “Worrying is my job, Lottie.”

Her chest ached, and she dropped the belt to stroke his face. “Not here, all right? Not with me.”

“Not with you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into her touch with a low sound. “God, Lottie. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” She guided his hands to her hips and kissed him. “You said the same thing earlier, and you didn’t hurt me in the least. We were made for this, honey. Both of us.”

His thumbs swept out and teased at skin left bare by the part in her robe. “Maybe hurt’s the wrong word. Maybe I don’t want to offend you. I may not be Jack Owens, but I’m a strong wolf with needs that aren’t always polite.”

“And that’s exactly what I am, Thomas.” Desperate to put him at ease, Lottie slipped her arms around his neck and drew him closer. “Some of the things I want would make you blush, I’d wager.”

His lips hovered over her lips. Hesitated. Drifted down to her ear, and the words he whispered made her shudder and clench her fingers in his shirt. “Right this second I’m resisting the urge to demand you curl your lips around my cock.”

Need made her hands shake, but she pushed at his shoulders until he rolled away, onto the bed. She rose slowly and tugged at his shoes. Once his feet were bare, she climbed over his thighs and reached for his shirt. “Tell me more.”

“More?” He lifted his arms and let her drag his wrinkled shirt over his head. “How could I be thinking about anything else? You have these lips, gorgeous and soft and full. I’d dream about them on my skin. On my cock. Your lips and your tongue and your mouth.”

Her fingers trembled on his belt, and his words sent aroused shivers racing up her spine. “Sometimes, I’d catch myself staring at you, rubbing my tongue against the roof of my mouth because I could almost taste you,” she murmured. “You don’t know how many times I almost threw myself at you.”

“Plenty of men threw themselves at you,” he pointed out, the words a low rasp. “You didn’t seem to like the blunt, aggressive approach. I thought I should woo you with my best manners.”

“I didn’t want them.” She held his gaze as she slid the robe off her shoulders and let it fall. “I wanted you.”

His gaze dropped from her face, drifting down her body in a slow, deliberate fashion. His lips parted, and a soft growl escaped as he reached up and brushed his fingers over the curve of one breast. “Jesus Christ, Lottie. Fantasies don’t do you justice.”

She could feel the blush creeping under her skin, so she lowered her eyes and tugged open his pants. “I was going to say the same thing about you.”

Her hands brushed the rigid length of his cock, and memories from that afternoon rendered her clumsy. She’d barely pulled his underwear down and freed his cock when she gave in to desire and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

“Fuck.” The harsh word sounded so much coarser coming from a man who rarely swore around her. His eyes narrowed and his fingers jumped to her arm and slid higher to curl in her loose hair. “Your mouth, Lottie. I need your mouth.”

She’d planned to move slowly, to show him that she wanted more than fast and frantic too. But what she wanted most of all was to give him what he needed, so she bent and skimmed kisses over his belly and hip. When she reached his cock, she watched his face as she eased him past her lips and into the wet depths of her mouth.

His hips lifted off the bed and he swore again. He brought his other hand up to cup the back of her head, and watched as she took him deeper. “You look almost as hot as you feel.”

His reactions were all the encouragement she needed. She slowed down, stroking her tongue over him. When he hissed in a breath and trembled, she moved her hand and slid her lips as far down his shaft as she could.

A growl ripped free of him, and the power constrained inside of him broke free. It hit Lottie with almost physical force, and she whimpered as the urge to roll over and bare her throat -- to submit -- nearly overwhelmed her.

She released him and panted against his hip. “What do you want, Thomas?”

The fingers in her hair coaxed her to the side before Thomas rolled to his knees. “A word. A word you can say that will stop everything.”

She couldn’t imagine ever wanting him to stop anything. But if he needed a word… “Cheeseburger.”

Thomas froze. “Cheeseburger. I --” His lips twitched. “Do you have something against cheeseburgers?”

“No.” Her laugh sounded shy even to her own ears. “But it’s the first thing I thought of that had nothing to do with us being naked.”

“Fair enough.” He reached down and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “Since you seem so determined to see me shed my nice polite manners, I want you to get on your hands and knees. And I want your lips back on my cock.”

It took Lottie a moment to move. Still trembling, she crawled toward him and planted her hands on either side of his knees. It would have been easier to guide his cock to her mouth with one hand, but she kept both flat on the bed as she closed her lips around him again.

His hands returned to her head, but in spite of the dominance implied by their relative positions, his fingers were gentle as they curled in her hair. “That’s right,” he whispered, nudging his hips forward the tiniest bit. “You feel so damn good.”

All she could do was hum around him. She’d spent so long wanting to touch him this way, and despairing of ever having the chance. All she wanted was to focus on him, make him groan her name.

Make him come.

She edged one hand closer to his leg and rubbed her thumb against the outside of his knee.

He made a satisfied noise deep in his chest and curled his fingers tighter in her hair. “I’m going to do this to you. Maybe I’ll tie your hands to the headboard so you can’t move. I’ll take forever, just licking you. Touching you. Seeing how many times I can make you come.”

Her eyes met his, and the hot look on his face combined with his words sent a violent shudder of need through her. What he talked about was the stuff of dreams, the kind of thing she’d think about while teasing herself with her own fingers.

When he smiled this time, it was anything but shy or teasing. She saw heat in his gaze, and something a little dangerous. “So you like that, do you? The idea of being trapped while I tease you? I’ve heard rumors of the toys you bought from back East. Do you have one tucked away in your bedside table?”

She shook her head as much as she could with the head of his cock close to the back of her throat. She’d never brought any of the antique toys home, but she’d go to the brothel and bring every single one of them home if he wanted.

He chuckled as if he’d read the thought on her face. He tugged lightly at her hair, urging her head back. “I’ll improvise. Go find me something soft. Something I can use to tie your wrists.”

Her legs would barely carry her to the bureau across the bedroom, and she had to brace herself when she got there. There were silk scarves in the top drawer, but she bent at the waist and reached for the bottom drawer. Inside lay a coiled length of velvet cord, the belt to one of her fussier dressing gowns.

Behind her she heard a soft growl. “That’s not playing fair, is it?”

She didn’t straighten, just looked back at him as she gathered the black velvet in one hand. “Is teasing you against the rules? I should have asked.”

He pointed to the head of the bed. “Come back here and find out.”

The steps which took her back to the bed were steadier, more eager. The cord hit the quilt beside Thomas, and she stretched out on the bed, her hands above her head.

One dark eyebrow swept up. “Uh-uh, Lottie. If you’re going to tease me with your ass, I want to look at it. Turn over.”

Her heart pounding with anticipation and lust, Lottie obeyed. “On my stomach or my knees?”

“Knees, I think.” The bed shifted, and she heard his feet hit the floor. “As long as you can stay upright, that is.”

She fidgeted impatiently, her pussy already wet and sensitive. “That probably won’t be long once you stop looking and start touching.”

Strong fingers brushed against the small of her back and traced up her spine. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

Lottie’s back arched, an instinctive motion that spoke of submission and desire. Her hands tightened around the wrought iron of the headboard, and a low noise of need escaped her. “Please, Thomas.”

The soft cord tickled her side as he drew it up her body. “I think I’ll just tie your hands together, not to the bed.” He wrapped the velvet around her wrists. “You keep ahold of that headboard as long as you can, sweetheart.”

“All right.” Her knuckles turned white, and shuddered as she fantasized about being at his mercy, his strong hands on her body. Then it hit her -- the time for imagining Thomas touching her was over. He was here.

She almost sagged to the bed then. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long I can’t quite believe it’s happening.”

He tied off the knot and she felt the brush of his lips over the back of her shoulder. “You’re not the only one. The things I want to do to you, that I’ve imagined doing to you…” The slightest hint of teeth scraped against her skin before his mouth shifted to the top of her spine. “You have no idea, Lottie. No damn idea.”

“I might.” Her skin felt tight, and she shuddered again. “I could tell you, if you wanted. My fantasies. What I dreamt about.”

“Tell me.” More kisses, following the arch of her back, before he paused and reached under her to cup her breasts. “Tell me everything.”

“I imagined you’d be careful. Gentle.” Her nipples hardened under his hands, and she moved into his touch. “Sitting on the bed, so slow, just… rocking together. I pictured that while I made myself come.”

His touches stilled. “Then how did you end up tied to the bed, Lottie?”

She muffled a whimper against the sensitive skin of her inner arm. “Because sometimes I let myself wonder what it could be like if you lost control. If you just took me. And it turned me on even more, Thomas, thinking you could feel that for me.”

“I do.” He shifted his fingers and caught both nipples, pinching them hard. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from moaning. “But I’m not going to lose control, Lottie. Not yet. Because in my fantasies you’re the one begging and whimpering.”

She’d do anything, as long as he didn’t stop. “Tell me about them. What did I do?”

His mouth opened again, this time on the back of her shoulder, and he bit her. The gesture was unrestrained, almost rough, but the words that followed were anything but. “You let me love you until we both collapsed.”

If he hadn’t had his hands around her, she would have dropped to the bed. “I let you? It doesn’t sound like I participated much.”

“Sure you did.” He spoke the words against the back of her neck as he lifted a hand to swipe her hair out of the way. “You moaned, and writhed, and came so many times I lost count, and by the time I sheathed my cock in your body, I was so hard from watching you that I thought it might kill me.”

There wasn’t time to stifle her whimper this time, and she rocked under his mouth. “Thomas, please. Please. Touch me, or let me touch you.”

Thomas planted both of his hands on her shoulders and stroked along her sides as he sat back. For several moments she felt nothing but the slightest brush of fingertips on her hips. Then even that disappeared.

He waited. He waited until she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, then smiled with a feral pleasure that set her heart to racing and watched her face as he slid his fingers between her legs and finally touched her.

Lottie bit her lip again, and her hands slid down the headboard as pleasure exploded in her. The teasing and talking had left her aching. “It’s too much.”

“It should be.” He traced a lazy circle around her clit and watched her face as if he’d never seen anything more beautiful in the world. “When you’ve wanted something for this long, it should be too much.”

“It was too much before you touched me,” she choked, shivering. “Now it’s just… just torture.”

“So tell me.” His hand shifted to rest on her hip, and the blunt head of his cock teased against her. “Tell me to fuck you, Charlotte. To take you.”

She needed it. She needed him. “Take me.” Her voice faltered at first and then gained strength, fueled by need. “Fuck me, Thomas. Please. Fuck me.”

It wasn’t gentle. His hands curled around her waist and he thrust into her, the angle sharp and unyielding. His loud groan filled the room as his hips settled against her ass. “Fuck, Lottie.”

She wanted to scream, but all she could do was suck in one ragged, desperate breath and moan his name. He’d been inside her only hours earlier, but she’d somehow forgotten the sheer, sweet shock of having his cock stretch her. “God. Oh…”

“Yes.” He ground against her, circling his hips with a patience belied by the way his hands spasmed on her hips. “You are so perfect. So fucking good…”

Lottie’s elbows dug into the bed as she pushed back, wanting more. “There’s nothing I don’t want. Everything, honey. Everything you can give me.”

One hand crept up her back to twine in her hair. “Even this?” he demanded, his voice gone suddenly hoarse. “Even if I let go of everything?”

“I want you to take me, Thomas.” A shudder ran through her at the mere thought, and she hovered on the edge of control, ready to tip over. “Please. I need it.”

A growl tore free of him and power rushed through the room, almost distracting her from his next thrust. Almost.

He took her with hard, claiming thrusts, each one a statement of need. Pleasure mounted quickly, a rising wave of desire that multiplied with every plunge, every groan. She felt his need in the depth of his possession, and everything she’d been holding back exploded in a hot rush that bowed her back and made her scream.

Thomas’s hand crashed to the bed next to hers as he covered her back with his chest. The other hand curved around her body to find her clit. His movements were jerky, almost uncoordinated, just like the short hard thrusts that pushed her higher. “Don’t stop.” He snarled the words against the back of her shoulder, and a moment later she felt the sharp sting of his teeth.

Lottie could only dig her fingers into the quilt and whimper helplessly as she came again. She’d never felt anything like the maddening combination of arousal and release that gripped her. She needed him again, still, even as a third orgasm took her.

His body stiffened above her as a tortured groan escaped him. He thrust into her once more and froze, and her name escaped him in a hoarse, rasping whisper.

They rocked for a few moments, but Lottie’s legs wouldn’t hold her. She collapsed to the bed, struggling for the breath to speak as aftershocks rippled through her. Eventually she gave up and rested her cheek on her arm, relishing the hard press of Thomas’s body on hers.

He moaned softly and lifted his body before rolling off of her. A moment later his hands closed around her hips and dragged her with him, leaving her draped across his chest. “Hands,” he murmured as his fingers traced up her arms. “Have to untie your hands.”

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his shoulder as he unraveled the knots binding her wrists. “The fire in the stove probably died. Dinner will be cold.”

“I’ll survive a few hours without food.” The cord fell away, and she heard the rustling of her quilts before a warm blanket settled over her back. “Rest. We should rest.”

“Thomas.” There were too many things to say, and sleep was already pulling her under. She curled one hand under his shoulder and stroked his chest with the other. “I’m very glad you’re here.”

“Me too, Lottie.” His hands settled on her back, strong and warm. “Me too.”

* * *

The griddle hissed as Lottie poured out the batter for another round of pancakes. “I want to warm some preserves. Can you choose a jar from the cupboard, please?”

“Of course.” The kitchen was warm enough that Thomas felt comfortable in just his trousers, and even more thankfully warm enough that Lottie hadn’t seen fit to dress in anything more substantial than a short, thin cotton robe.

The small cabinet beside the pantry held rows of glass jars, each one carefully labeled and sealed. He ran his fingers along the shelf until he came to one marked “cherry” and smiled as he pulled it from the shelf. “I remember when Hazel was fifteen and you tried to teach her how to make preserves the first time. I’m not sure what that resulting mess was, but she was so damn proud of herself I ate it anyway.” And it had been worth it to see the look on Hazel’s young face, to see her pleasure in having Lottie give her the attention her mother never had.

“Come, now,” Lottie chided with a broad grin. “I liked you too much not to make sure they were palatable first.”

“You weren’t so careful with her first experiments in baking as I recall. The girl very nearly put me off pie for good.” Seeing the same warmth in her eyes that he felt for Hazel tugged at something inside him, something interested in more than just a night in Lottie’s bed. “We raised her all right between the two of us, though, no thanks to Ginny.”

Lottie crossed the room and took the jar from his hand with another small smile. “Yes. She turned out all right, in spite of Ginny’s corrupting influence.”

Thomas reached out to catch her hand and tugged her closer. “It’s been a little bit like torture, you know. Raising Hazel with you like she was our damn child, even though I’d never gotten to have you.”

The humor faded from her clear green eyes, replaced by satisfaction and desire. “You’ve had me now.”

“Not the kind of having I was talking about, Lottie.”

“Oh.” Her head fell back, and her unbound hair slipped off her shoulders and bared her throat. “And do you still want me?” The light, teasing tone of her voice was underscored by nervousness, and her hand trembled in his.

Marks in the shape of his teeth had risen while they slept. Thomas lifted his hand and brushed his thumb lightly over one small bruise. “That’s a foolish question.”

Lottie wrapped her arms around his neck and rose on her toes to kiss his chin. “Marry me, then.”

He’d never done anything impulsive in his life. The proof of that fact was standing in front of him, staring up at him with huge, gorgeous eyes. If he’d had an impulsive bone in his body he would have found a way to claim her years ago. He could have been living with her, raising Hazel with her. Raising our children with her…

If there had ever been an argument in favor of impulsive behavior, Charlotte was it. So he caught her lips in a blazing kiss before pulling back to smile. “Yes. Absolutely. Tomorrow, if I could.”

“Mm-hmm.” An amused smile curved her lips. “And why can’t you?”

He didn’t want to introduce reality into their perfect moment, but there was no other way to answer the question. “I have to ask Jack to take over dealing with the other business owners in town. Their complaints may be foolish, but it’ll cause chaos if I agree to look into it and marry you the next day.”

“Of course.” Lottie began trailing kisses along his jaw. “Fairness is important. Objectivity, too.”

Thomas closed his eyes and gave in to a rush of pleasure at her soft touches. “Not thinking I’m terribly objective at the moment.”

“Jack can be objective.” She smiled against his jaw and licked his earlobe. “You can be mad with desire for me.”

He’d taken her twice in less than twenty-four hours. A third time shouldn’t be so appealing, but his cock still stirred as her breath fell against his ear. “You’re not going to be able to sit down for a day or walk straight for a week if we keep this up.”

“I’m resilient, honey.” She slipped one leg between his and ground against his thigh with a soft moan. “And we have a lot of lost nights to make up for.”

Thomas stopped fighting. His hand traced the curve of her body as he moved it down her side, then around to clutch her ass. “Are you looking to sample a variety of furniture, then? We’ve tried your bed and your desk so far.”

She slipped her fingertips into the waist of his trousers and backed up until his knuckles brushed the smooth wood of the kitchen table behind her. “We’ll have to go room by room, I think. It’s the only orderly system.” Her robe gaped open, revealing the smooth curve of her breast.

“A table is an awful lot like a desk, though.” He tightened his fingers on her hips and spun her around until she faced the counter. “Standing up might be an interesting diversion though. Maybe leaning over the counter…”

The look she cast him over her shoulder was equal parts arousal and humor. “I was also leaning over my desk.”

“Good point.” He turned her again, this time hefting her up and dropping her on the counter. “Better?”

She laughed and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Much.”

There was a lot to be said for the position, like the fact that it gave him ample opportunity to trace his fingers teasingly up her arms while grinding his hips against hers. “What about the food? I think there are pancakes in danger of burning not very far from us.”

Lottie glanced at the stove and arched her hips to meet his. “We’ll use this batch as coasters and make more. Or just sleep the rest of the night and wait for --” Her words cut off suddenly, and she straightened with a look of alarm. “Do you smell smoke?”

He jerked his gaze back to the stove, afraid for a moment that the pancakes were already burning. One glance was enough to prove it wasn’t the case. He stepped back and turned toward the door. “Is it coming from outside?”

“It smells like…” Lottie pushed at his shoulders and jumped off the counter, her eyes wide and alarmed. “It smells like a house fire, Thomas.”

Thomas was already going for his boots. “If you’re coming with me, drag your food off the stove so your house doesn’t burn down.”

She hurried to do so and then rushed into the hallway to snatch up her coat and shoes. “It could be nothing. It’s probably nothing.”

He wanted to believe her, but it didn’t feel like nothing. Something inside him knew the truth even as he pulled his jacket on over his bare chest. “Maybe not. But it’s my job to make sure.”

Lottie yanked the front door open. “I know, honey. And I’m here to --” The words choked off as she looked out the door and down the street. “It’s near -- near the saloon. Oh God.”

Every instinct he had screamed to shove Lottie back in her house and leave her there. If it was her business on fire, it wasn’t an accident. It was a threat, an attempt to hurt her, and he needed to know she was safe.

Just like she needed to know her people were safe. He cursed softly and then held out his hand to her. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Four

The Full Moon Saloon was burning.

Though Thomas held her hand, Lottie stumbled down the street toward the building. The rising flames illuminated the night, and she easily recognized the soot-stained faces of the women outside. She found herself counting them as she ran, taking a mental inventory of who was accounted for.

And who wasn’t.

Thomas stopped only once, to snag a scared looking young werewolf who was watching the building burn with wide, shocked eyes. Thomas gave the boy a sharp shake and power flowed out from him, strong but steady. “Calvin, go fetch Jack and Ginny. Now.”

The boy took off at a run.

Lottie caught sight of a tall brunette in the street. “Nancy!” She grasped the woman’s shoulders and met her eyes. “Nancy, did everyone get out?”

“I don’t --” Nancy’s words cut off in a cough, her thin shoulders shaking under the force of it. Thomas steadied her, and after a moment she straightened again and gasped out one name. “Sarabeth.”

Lottie looked around frantically, her heart pounding. “Cora, come help Nancy. Hurry. I have to go inside.”

“Lottie.” Thomas waited until Cora had taken Nancy, then caught her shoulders. “Let me go in. Someone needs to make sure everyone’s okay, and they trust you.”

“Cora and Shorty can take care of it.” Something gave in the structure of the saloon, and a shower of sparks flew up amidst gasps and shouts. Terror streaked through her, and she took a deep, bracing breath. “Thomas, I can’t stay out here. Not if someone is still in there. I won’t!”

He bit off a snarl and started toward the building, his fingers tight around her arm. “Fine, but I swear by all that’s holy, Charlotte, if you get hurt I will yell at you for a month straight.”

She bristled. “I don’t have time for your supposedly not alpha-male bullshit. And if you get hurt, the same thing applies, so don’t.”

The steady pulse of his magic turned sharp and angry for a split second as he made a rude noise. “If I were Jack or Oliver you’d be locked in a closet in your own house still, so you’d best recognize that I am trying.”

“So am I.” Smoke billowed through the open door, and Lottie coughed as she stumbled behind the bar and thrust some towels into the rinse pan. Her eyes burned, and she could barely see. She tossed a towel at Thomas and headed for the stairs.

Whatever retort he might have given was lost in the roaring noise from the fire, but his hand curled around her arm before her foot hit the bottom step. “I’ll go upstairs. Check down here.”

There wasn’t time to argue, even if she thought she might win. “Her room is the last on the right. Hurry.”

He ran off in the direction of the stairs, and Lottie coughed as she made her way to the kitchen. The smoke burned her nose, even through the towel, but she couldn’t turn back. She checked the storeroom next, and then her office.

Empty.

Even her sigh of relief came out sounding hoarse as she rushed to the front room to meet Thomas. He was at the top of the stairs, already heading down, alone. Lottie shouted to be heard. “Where’s Sarab --”

A crash and another shower of sparks cut off her question as the stairs collapsed under him.

The world stood still, and Lottie moved before she realized it. Her heart in her throat, she rushed to the pile of smoldering wood and shoved through it, searching for Thomas.

A board shifted, and she heard his pained groan as his hand appeared, knocking some of the wood aside.

She knew she was burning her hands on the hot wood, but she couldn’t feel it. Finally, she managed to uncover Thomas enough to grip his arms and pull. He slid free of the debris with another groan, and Lottie’s lungs burned. “Thomas? Can you talk?”

“Leg’s hurt,” he rasped, his voice weak. “Maybe broken.”

“It’ll be all right,” she soothed. “Just hold on.” A beam collapsed over by the bar, and Lottie tried not to flinch. They had to get out, but moving Thomas’s solid bulk across the floor wouldn’t have been an easy task under the best of circumstances.

They’d made it halfway to the door when a voice called her name, and a pair of strong, slender hands joined hers. “Hurry, Lottie.”

Ginny. Together, they made it through the door and out into the night air. Lottie wanted to stop and just breathe, but being outside wasn’t enough. The building could collapse at any moment.

Her friend’s words confirmed her suspicions. “The roof’s about to go.”

“Ginny!” Jack appeared in front of them, looking disheveled. “Let me help. Lottie, go and double check your girls for me. Make sure Sarabeth’s the only one missing.”

She hesitated, torn between her duty to the women in her employ and her concern for Thomas. “It’s his leg…”

“I’ll take him straight to Doc Baker,” Jack promised, already reaching out to slide Thomas’s arm over his shoulder. “Meet us there after you get a headcount.”

Her hands clenched into fists, but she gasped and relaxed them as pain shot up her arms. “All right. Ginny, can you help me?”

“’Course I can, sweetie.” The tall redhead had already pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket, and she reached for Lottie’s hand. “Let me see that.”

“I-I have to count.”

Ginny tugged her toward the crowd. “Count while I wrap your hands, then you’re getting your ass down to Doc’s too.”

Lottie complied, a little dazed. She recognized it as adrenaline subsiding and shock setting in. She wanted to sleep, or maybe cry. She wanted to follow Thomas, to make sure he was okay.

Instead, she concentrated on making sure everyone but Sarabeth was accounted for, while her business burned behind her.

* * *

Thomas closed his eyes and concentrated every bit of power inside him on his aching body, as if he could force bruised flesh to heal through willpower alone. The pain had faded a bit with whatever concoction the doctor had forced down his throat, but the need to climb to his feet -- lame or not -- and find Lottie was stronger than ever.

He ground his teeth together as the doctor poked at his leg. “Is it broken?”

Doc Baker scratched at his beard. “If so, it’s just a mild fracture. If you rest and eat plenty, it’ll be good as new in a couple of days.”

Jack snorted. “And if he runs around like an idiot wearing himself to a thread day in day out?”

The doctor shrugged one shoulder. “Then he’ll be limping for a while. Month, maybe two. Maybe forever.”

The alpha nodded. “Crutches for you, Thomas, if you move at all, or I’ll kick your ass.”

Thomas glared at Doc Baker. “You’re a damned traitor, you know.”

“You’re a grouchy patient, Crawford.”

“Speaking of grouchy…” It was Ginny’s voice. She walked in with Lottie propped on her shoulder. “This one fits the bill.”

“Thomas.” Lottie’s face was streaked and dirty, her voice hoarse from the smoke, but she looked relieved to see him.

Thomas brushed the doctor away and held out both arms. “Come here, Charlotte.”

Ginny glowered at him. “Hold on to your horses. Lottie’s hurt.”

Doc Baker was all business again. “What’s the problem?”

“I burned my hands a little, that’s all.” She held them out for his inspection.

The elderly man huffed. “Well, sit over here by Thomas before he strains something, and I’ll get them cleaned up.”

The nervous energy inside him eased somewhat when Lottie lowered herself to the bench next to him. Thomas curled his arm around her waist and hugged her against his side gently. “You saved my ass.”

She turned her face to his neck. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He kissed the top of her head, then twisted enough to watch the doctor as he examined Lottie’s hands. “How bad?”

“Just need to be disinfected,” the doctor murmured, intent on his task. “They’ll heal quick.”

Thomas cupped the back of Lottie’s head and kept her face tucked against his neck as he looked to Ginny and Jack. “You know Sarabeth’s missing? Ira Braswell’s my first suspect. He’s pissed as hell she left him.”

Jack nodded shortly. “That’s where I’m headed, once the fire’s out. I need to get back out there…” Jack’s voice trailed off, and he glanced at Ginny. “You’ll keep everything under control?”

She nodded. “Everyone else looks okay, but we’re still going to file them through here to make sure. Doc could use the practice.”

Doc Baker snorted. “I was an old hand at this when you were in diapers, Virginia Howard.”

Jack made a rude noise before glancing at Thomas. “I’m taking care of Sarabeth and the fire. You get to stay right here in this damn room and take care of Lottie and all her girls. And you don’t need to go tromping around on that leg to do it, so if I catch you running around, I’m going to finish breaking it for you.”

The threat was just a little too angry sounding to be frightening. Thomas knew from long association that Jack was scariest when he didn’t sound angry at all. So he nodded once and tried to look suitably disgruntled, as if he hadn’t been planning to take care of Lottie all along. “I’ll be here, Jack.”

“Good. Lottie, don’t worry yourself. Ginny and I are going to take care of this.”

Lottie shook, and it took Thomas a moment to recognize her anger. “Do you really think Braswell would do something like this just to snatch Sarabeth? Everyone could have been killed.”

Braswell was an ass, but not this much of one. Nor was he stupid enough to court the kind of retribution that Jack would be likely to bring even if Lottie left any pieces of him. “If he did, it got out of hand. I don’t know what happened for sure, but I bet no one thought it would be this.”

Doc Baker finished rewrapping her hands. “Now that they’re clean, they’ll heal fast. You’re fine, honey.”

“Thank you.” Lottie glanced at Ginny. “Who needs to come in first?”

“Nancy’s the worst,” she admitted. “Just about everyone breathed in some smoke. Shorty burned himself some trying to put out the fire, but he already cleaned himself up.”

“He’s bucking for my job,” Doc Baker grumbled.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “As if you don’t need the help. Ginny, take care of the rest of the town. Lottie and I can manage here. I promise I won’t move farther than the bench out front.”

“Yell if you need me, either of you. And if you don’t take it easy, Thomas, I’ll help Jack break your leg.” She ducked out the door.

Lottie sighed. “At least they mean well, even when they’re talking about breaking limbs.”

Thomas curled his arm around Lottie’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head again, mostly to reassure himself she was in one piece. “Jack’s been in a better mood since he moved in with Ginny, but the two of them together are a bit formidable.”

“You mean bossy.” Lottie rose and kissed him gently. “The sooner I take care of everyone, the sooner we can rest.” She lingered, her cheek against his and her mouth close to his ear. “I’m sorry you were hurt, honey.”

She meant to leave him inside, which didn’t suit him at all. He bit her ear as a warning before pulling back. “Doc, you got a crutch for me? I’m going outside to help Lottie see to her girls.”

“I’ll help you,” she said immediately. “Put your arm over my shoulders and lean on me.”

Not the manliest way to move, but being close to her was worth it. Thomas looped his arm around her shoulders and rose to his feet. His leg ached when he put weight on it, but not so much that he worried. A day or two and you’ll be better.

And then he was going to find whoever had started the fire and rip them limb from limb, even if it meant defying Jack to do it.

Chapter Five

Lottie woke with Thomas’s warm weight pressed against her back. She stretched, testing her muscles for soreness, but the last day of rest and sleep had eliminated nearly all her aches and twinges left over from the fire.

Even her hands were mostly healed. She flexed them and smiled when she felt no pain at all. “Are you awake?”

His arm curled around her body and tugged her closer. “Was just thinking I should get out of bed and drag myself onto a horse so I can go back to my place and check on everyone.”

“Without breakfast?” She turned in his arms and rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I can cook this morning.”

Thomas curled his fingers around her hand and lifted it up so he could examine it. “Feels better?”

“Mmm.” She closed her fingers around his. “What about your leg?”

He kissed the heel of her palm before answering. “Sore. Probably shouldn’t put more weight on it than I have to, but I’ll manage.”

He shouldn’t be out at all. “I can go instead. You need more time to recuperate.”

“Lottie.” His expression turned serious. “I can sit a horse.”

She growled and turned her face into her pillow. “I know. I don’t have to like it, though.”

“And I like you running around with your hands still barely healed?” His fingers curled in her hair and he tilted her head back just enough that she had to look at him. “You may be used to having your way, Lottie, and damn if I don’t want to give it to you most of the time. But I’m not an invalid.”

“Mm-hmm.” Lottie sat up, smoothed her hair over one shoulder and began to braid it. “Will you be riding out to talk to Jack too?”

Thomas made an annoyed noise as he tucked his hands behind his head. “Jack shares your opinion of my capabilities. Told me to ride back to my place and wait there for him and Oliver.”

“Does he have a lead on where Braswell might have gone?” Trailing the man had been impossible immediately after the fire. Even the pack’s best trackers had been able to smell nothing but soot and charred wood.

“I think he might. Though I was supposed to ask you if you knew why the man might have risked this much over Sarabeth. If she ever told you anything, I mean…”

She thought back, but nothing sprang to mind. “All I know is how he acted whenever he approached me about wanting her back. It never seemed like a business transaction for him. It was always too personal, like she was more to him.” Or he’d wanted her to be.

Thomas’s eyes darkened. “And I’m guessing she didn’t agree, or she wouldn’t have gone to you.”

All Sarabeth had wanted was for him to leave her alone. When he hadn’t, she’d come to the Full Moon Saloon. “No, she didn’t agree.”

“We’ll get her back, Lottie.” He held out a hand to her. “Come here.”

“I’m okay.” Still, she slipped her hand into his. “I’m worried about her, that’s all. If it’s like you said, and Ira just let things get out of hand the other night… He might be feeling desperate by now.”

“I know.” Thomas drew her down into his arms. “Jack knows, too. And he’s not going to let anything happen to her. We’re not going to let anything happen to her.”

She nestled into his arms with a sad sigh. “I should have known Braswell was concerned with more than lost revenue. I should have known he was obsessed.”

Thomas’s fingers stroked gently over her hair. “Did she tell you that?”

“No.” Sarabeth had been reserved about most of her personal life before she’d come to Lottie’s. “She didn’t like to talk about him.”

“Then you couldn’t have known. We’re responsible for the people in our care, Lottie, but we’re not all-powerful. And we’re not infallible. We need to know there’s a problem before we can fix it.”

She turned her face to his hand. It was just like him to make sure she didn’t feel as if what had happened was her fault. “Spoken like someone who wants to make me feel better.”

“Spoken like someone who has too many problems to fix,” he corrected softly. “Lottie --”

His voice cut off as he turned his head toward the front of the house, and a moment later she heard it, too. Hoofbeats pounding toward them at a gallop.

Thomas was out of the bed in a moment. He didn’t even limp as he strode to the window, then swore softly. “Sarabeth. Alone. On one of Braswell’s horses.”

Lottie lunged for her robe. “Does she look all right?”

“Scared.” Thomas reached for his pants and winced as he shoved his injured leg into them. “But unhurt.”

By the time they got downstairs, Sarabeth had stumbled up on the porch. Lottie wrapped her arms around her and urged her through the door. “Are you all right, honey? What happened?”

Sarabeth shook in her arms, stumbling until Lottie got her into a chair. Dirt streaked her cheeks and her eyes were too-wide, either from shock or fear. “I-I got away.”

Angry power flared inside her, but Lottie shoved it down. “Got away from who, sweetie?”

“Mr. Braswell.” She trembled, and Thomas appeared at Lottie’s side and reached out a cautious hand to rest on her shoulder. Sarabeth flinched a little, but Thomas soothed her with a gentle noise and a soft wave of warm, reassuring magic.

When she stopped shivering, Thomas knelt in front of her. “Are you hurt?”

After a moment Sarabeth shook her head. Lottie shot Thomas a look. “Can you fetch some brandy, honey?”

Thomas rose to his feet and brushed his fingers across the back of Lottie’s shoulder as he passed her, heading for the kitchen.

When he’d gone, Lottie smoothed Sarabeth’s disheveled hair from her forehead. “Where is Mr. Braswell now, sweetie? Jack checked his house…”

Sarabeth closed her eyes. “I hit him. With a piece of firewood. But I don’t know where we were because I was so upset and I couldn’t get control of the horse at first. We ran so far… half an hour at least. But it could have been in circles.”

“It’s fine.” Lottie pulled her close. “There’s a trail, and Jack and the others will find him.”

“He was mad, Lottie.” Sarabeth hid her face against Lottie’s shoulder, the trembling returning. “He said we’d be married and start a new life, but that’s insane. I told him I didn’t want to. That I didn’t need him to save me.”

Lottie cursed herself again for underestimating the man’s obsession. “No, you don’t. Braswell’s just gone off the deep end, that’s all.”

Thomas returned with a generous glass of brandy in one hand. “Do you think you two will be up to riding over to the house with me? Ginny and Jack should be there already with the rest of the ladies. The doctor was going to visit this morning, too.”

“We can hitch up my buggy.” Lottie murmured her thanks and pressed the glass into Sarabeth’s hand. “Will you ride out with Jack?”

“Maybe.” He glanced at her, then Sarabeth, making it clear he had more he didn’t want to say in front of the obviously shaken young woman. “For now we’ve got to get everyone together and looked after. Why don’t I finish getting dressed and hitch up your buggy?”

“It’ll give Sarabeth time to finish her drink.” And Lottie would have more time to calm the enraged instincts inside her.

Thomas nodded and brushed his fingers over her hair. “Yell if you need me.”

She leaned into his touch for just a moment. “You do the same.”

When he was gone, Sarabeth lowered the glass to her lap and looked up at Lottie with eyes that slowly filled with tears. “The fire. Is anyone… are all the other girls okay?”

Lottie’s heart twisted. “Everyone’s just fine. Probably even enjoying the vacation.”

“And the saloon?”

She tried not to let her grief show. “I’ve already started making plans to rebuild it. With bigger bathrooms this time, I think.”

A tiny smile curved Sarabeth’s lips. “Bigger bathrooms would be wonderful.”

Lottie grinned. “I thought so.”

Sarabeth closed her eyes and leaned into Lottie’s embrace again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Uh-uh, honey. There’s only one person to blame for what’s happened, and that’s Braswell.”

“I should have told you,” she repeated. “Or Jack. Jack’s going to be mad I didn’t lodge a complaint.”

He might, if he wasn’t too busy just being relieved she was okay. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Sarabeth.”

A soft whisper of bare feet on hardwood was the only indication that Thomas had returned. He dropped a comforting hand to the back of Sarabeth’s head and made a soothing noise. “You’re safe. Let Lottie take care of you. I’ll deal with Jack.”

The girl nodded, and Thomas met Lottie’s gaze over Sarabeth’s head. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Be careful. But the words were silly, and Lottie bit them back. Instead, she offered Thomas a gentle smile and helped Sarabeth to her feet. “Are you hungry? Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

* * *

Thomas caught Braswell’s scent the minute he stepped outside, but he credited it to the nervous mare that shied away from him when he reached for her bridle. He was too upset to hide his power from the horse, but he did take a moment to try to settle himself so she wouldn’t panic and tear his arm off trying to get away.

That was when he realized the scent wasn’t coming from the horse alone. And Braswell was a good tracker in his day…

In the choice between his life and keeping the horse nearby, there was no question. He released the bridle and the mare bolted. Thomas closed his eyes and used the power inside him to find the intruder on his property. To find the enemy.

It didn’t take long. He felt the man circling the house, obvious intent on sneaking up behind Thomas. Braswell had underestimated him, had taken his placid, easygoing exterior at face value.

Most people did.

Thomas gathered his magic inside him and let it out in one careful, directed burst, slamming Ira Braswell full in the teeth in a sharp reminder that beta didn’t mean weak. He heard a muffled grunt and a scuffle of feet, and when he turned he found his opponent doubled over, obviously fighting the wolf’s need to show deference in the face of such furious power.

Good. Thomas let his cold rage fill his voice as he spoke. “Hello, Ira.”

The man finally stood, a smile baring his teeth. “Crawford.”

Thomas’s leg ached, a reminder that he wasn’t in any shape to be getting into fights. The wolf inside him disagreed. Lottie was inside, and a woman who Lottie needed to protect, and the man standing in front of him was the enemy.

He straightened and refused to show weakness. “You’re in a mess of trouble. I think you know that, don’t you?”

Braswell’s hand twitched, almost like he wanted to reach for the pistol at his side. “All I want is what’s mine.”

The growl escaped Thomas before he could stop it. “Nothing here is yours.”

The man’s trembling worsened, but he didn’t back down. “Sarabeth is my mate, and I want her back.”

“This is the Lonely River Pack,” Thomas replied, keeping his voice hard. “No woman is mated in our territory unless she chooses to be.”

“You don’t understand. I’ll give her anything she wants. I already have.”

Unrequited obsession. It happened, but not often. With the competition for women so fierce, most wolves chose a mate and ended any question of who she belonged to. The humans in town seemed mildly appalled by the freedom the werewolf women had when it came to making their own choices in life, but Jack didn’t care.

Neither did Thomas. If the humans chose to rebuild their population by trapping their women in cages, that was their choice. The wolves had no such need.

And Ira Braswell wouldn’t be allowed to break the pack’s rules. “She wants a choice. She made a choice. And not only did you ignore it, you put lives in danger. You’re not going to have her, Ira. Not ever.”

This time, Braswell put a hand to his gun. “You’re not the alpha, Crawford.”

Thomas watched that hand, knowing he’d have to be fast enough to get out of the way of a bullet. “I speak on his behalf. And Sarabeth is under my protection now.”

“No.” Braswell spat out the word. “My mate, my protection. I’m taking her back, Crawford, and don’t try to stop me. Just look after your own mate.”

“That’s what I’m doing. You’ve got one chance, Braswell. Drop the gun and face Jack, or I’m going to rip it out of your hand and drag what’s left of you to face him.”

Braswell drew the gun with an angry roar, and a shot rang out. He screamed and dropped the gun to clutch his wounded shoulder, then hit his knees on the grass.

Lottie stood at the edge of the porch, a rifle still braced against her shoulder. “Don’t make me shoot you again, Ira.”

But all he did was roar again and reach for the fallen pistol with his off hand. Thomas got there first. One sharp kick had his injured leg screaming in protest, but he landed his foot square in Braswell’s chest and knocked the man back over.

Thomas swooped down to pick up the discarded pistol and aimed it at his enemy’s head. “I wasn’t going to let him shoot me, Lottie.”

“Could have fooled me, honey.” The words were casual, but they held an edge of anger, or maybe fear. “Looked like you were going to let him get awful close.”

Braswell groaned softly. Thomas rolled him over with one foot and glanced at Lottie. “I should take him to Jack. It’s what he’d want me to do.” But it wasn’t what he wanted to do. Not when the man bleeding in the dirt at his feet had taken so much away from the woman he cared about.

She made a soft noise of protest, as if she could sense his thoughts. “Thomas…”

“I know.” He closed his eyes and told the wolf to be silent, that Lottie was safe and his job ended there. The pack depended on Thomas and his ability to be the civilized one. The unthreatening one. Not so civilized when it’s your woman in danger.

He dragged in a deep breath and looked at Lottie again. “Rope. We need rope.”

“Chains,” she murmured, raising the rifle again. “In the stable, by the door.”

Leaving Braswell alive was one thing. Leaving him alive and out in the courtyard with Lottie… “Could you get them?”

She snorted and muttered something about sexist attitudes, but she unshouldered the rifle and headed for the stable. When she returned, she held several lengths of heavy chain and two padlocks. “This should do it.”

He leveled a look on her that acknowledged her annoyance but didn’t give ground. “Go take care of your responsibilities, darling. Let me take care of mine.”

Chapter Six

She wasn’t a delicate flower, and Thomas Crawford was going to find that out.

Lottie kicked off her shoes and fell back on the bed, closing her eyes against the fading sunlight slanting through the curtains. They’d spent the day taking care of business, together and separately, and only the possibility that Thomas might consider her weak kept Lottie from feeling the satisfaction of hard work done.

She heard him downstairs, coming in from stabling the horses. His footsteps sounded tired on the stairs, but soon enough he was standing in the doorway, watching her quietly.

She sat up and stared at him. “I may be your responsibility, Thomas, but you’re mine too.”

“I know.” He didn’t move from the door. “Never said I wasn’t.”

“I don’t need protection.” Her hands clenched on the quilt. “I need a partner.”

Thomas frowned. “Is this because I didn’t want to leave you alone with Braswell?”

“You felt okay with me leaving you alone with him.”

He hesitated. Opened his mouth, then closed it again. After a moment he nodded. “Fair enough. I was being an overprotective ass.”

His admission surprised her, and she blinked at him. “That’s it? Just… like that?”

Thomas grinned and shoved away from the door, stalking toward her with a grace only slightly impeded by his minute limp. “You disappointed? I suppose it’s not too late to go find a man like Jack. Or hell, Oliver. I heard he just about locked Hazel in a closet to keep her out of the fighting, and I doubt he’s planning on apologizing.”

The thought was enough to make her laugh. “I don’t want a man like Jack, and I sure as hell don’t want one like Oliver. But I think… I might like a man like you.”

“Don’t know what the girl sees in Oliver myself. Would’ve thought you’d have raised her with more sense, what with your obviously exquisite taste.” His shirt hit the floor and his hands fell to his belt. “I thought since your girls have taken up residence in the home I recently inherited from our alpha, you might see your way to offering me a place to stay.”

Lottie pretended to consider that as she began to unbutton her blouse. “I do have a spare room since Hazel moved out,” she teased.

“Better than the couch.” The buckle slipped open. “Unless you’re on the couch with me.”

She didn’t bother to hide her excitement, because he’d hear her quickened pulse anyway. “There’s more room in my bed, I suppose.”

Thomas stepped closer and covered her hands with his. “Was hoping maybe we could discuss an arrangement that made one of these beds into our bed.”

Lottie dropped a quick kiss to each of his hands. “You mean like how I asked you to marry me?”

“Mm-hmm.” He moved her hands and resumed unbuttoning her shirt himself. “You didn’t give me much of a chance to woo you gently, did you?”

“You did woo me gently. For months, if Ginny and Jack are to be believed.”

“Not very effectively, if you didn’t notice.”

She made a soft noise to soothe him. “I was waiting for you to ravish me. Which you are entirely welcome to do now.”

“Haven’t I ravished you enough for one week?” He undid the last button and eased her shirt open. Large hands drifted up to cup her breasts. “Can’t I make love to my future wife?”

He touched her carefully, and her breathing roughened. “Sure can… as long as you’re talking about me.”

His thumbs eased over her nipples, plying them gently. Teasing. “Don’t know who else I’d be talking about.”

“Good.” Lottie wound her arms around Thomas’s neck. She stood on her toes to feather her lips over his as the heat in her belly grew. “Then make love to me. Everything you wanted to do when you weren’t fucking me.”

Thomas chuckled and bit her lower lip softly. “We’re wolves in love, darling. There’s always going to be love in the fucking, but there’s always going to be fucking in the sweet love, too. That’s the way we are.”

She bit him back, harder and with a growl. “I’d be happy with either or both, honey, as long as you’re touching me.”

“That’s not going to stop anytime soon.” He slid his hands up to her shoulders and under the shirt, coaxing it down her arms. “You sure your hands are all healed up now?”

“Mmm.” She held them up to show him again. “But your leg could use more time. Want to lie down?”

When her shirt hit the floor he reached for his pants again, the look in his eyes hot. “Maybe. You want to be the bossy one tonight, sweetheart?”

“Maybe.” Lottie unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall. Her panties were pre-War and French, made of flimsy, filmy silk, and she moved more slowly than she had to, just to enjoy the way he watched her. “Lie down, honey.”

Moments later he was stretched out naked on her bed, fully aroused and staring at her like he couldn’t get enough of her. “You’re so gorgeous.”

His words and the intensity of his gaze made her shiver, and her breathing hitched as she tried to imagine a lifetime of having him look at her just like that. “I love you, Thomas. And the reason I’ve run from you for so long is that I was scared. Scared your reserve meant I was the only one who felt that way.”

“I have to be reserved out there.” He held out his hand and caught hers, tugging her gently toward him. “The pack needs me to be… safe. Quiet. But when we’re alone…”

He closed his eyes and she felt his power, a quiet surge that grew until it filled the room, full of hot passion and protective need. It shivered through her, and she couldn’t hold back an answering moan as wet heat gathered between her thighs and made her ready for him. “I was wrong,” she whispered as she climbed on the bed beside him. “I know that now.”

“Show me.” He traced a finger up her arm and over her breast, teasing at her nipple. “Ride me, Lottie. I want to watch you come.”

She eased over him and didn’t stop until the head of his cock was poised at her entrance. “Like this?”

He proved himself incapable of lying passively when he pinched her nipple and arched up, sinking the first few inches of his cock into her. “Oh yes.”

Lottie sucked in a rough breath and rocked down until he was completely inside her. It took her a moment to speak and, even when she did, her voice was a husky whisper. “It feels right to have you inside me.”

Thomas wrapped a hand around her hip and urged her to move with a soft tug. “Because that’s where I belong.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “It shouldn’t have taken me so long to realize that.”

Strong fingers wove into her hair and held her steady for a long, deep kiss. His tongue thrust between her lips, matching the rhythm of his hips as he rocked up into her, slow and steady.

Instead of burning hot and fast, pleasure built slowly, intensified by the way he held her, as if he’d never laid hands on anything so precious in his life. Lottie shifted her hips and gasped when the change in position sent streaks of fire spiraling through her.

“That’s it,” he murmured against her lips. Both hands tightened, forcing her to keep that angle as he moved just a little faster, a little deeper. “Feel it, Lottie.”

“Always.” She caught his lips in another desperate kiss, determined not to rush, to draw out the climb to orgasm. To show him what nights would be like in the bed they shared.

But he didn’t seem willing to let her wait. The hand in her hair moved, first to her breast where he tugged at her nipple until she bit his lip and moaned. Then lower, caressing her belly before dipping to tease between her legs.

His thumb stroked her, tiny little touches that grew firmer as she began to shake over him. She barely had time to throw back her head and gasp his name before she came, blood roaring in her ears and pleasure pulsing through her body, making her clench around his cock.

He groaned but he didn’t stop. “Again, sweetheart. You’re so damn beautiful like this…”

She shook her head and tried to speak. “I need -- need you to take me.”

A hoarse chuckle rumbled out of his chest. “Oh, honey, that’s what I’m doing. Your body is mine now.” His thumb pressed hard against her clit as he thrust up into her. “And I want you to come.”

Denying him was impossible. Lottie shrieked, and the metallic scent of blood filled her nose as her nails sank into Thomas’s chest. She heard him growl, heard her name leave his lips, and his hips drove up against her hard enough that her knees left the bed.

Her limbs wouldn’t hold her, and she collapsed against his chest. When she could finally speak again, she cursed. “I scratched you to hell and back.”

“Mmm.” His lips brushed against the top of her head. “I earned it. But I’m not taking it back. You’re mine.”

“Yours.” Happiness suffused her, and she couldn’t stop smiling. “Long engagement? I’ll be pretty busy for a while, rebuilding the saloon.”

“I’ll help you,” he promised. “Jack’s been dumping too much work on me while he hides out on Ginny’s ranch. He can just take a little bit of it back.”

She rested her cheek on his chest and bit her lip to hide her nervousness. “If you’d like, we could go ahead and get married, you know.”

He tugged at her hair and tilted her head back so she had to meet his eyes. Then he smiled. “Tomorrow?”

Her smile widened into a grin. “Think we can pull it off?”

“Together? I think we can pull anything off.”

Lottie had never felt this kind of joy mingled with such contentment. “Better test that theory,” she observed sagely, wiggling over him.

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” He moved fast, rolling her under his body. “Thought you were trying to drive me out of what’s left of my wits.”

“Never,” she breathed. “I like you with your wits. I like everything about you.”

Warmth feathered over her cheek as he leaned down to kiss her. His lips traced her jaw, brushed over hers, then dropped a tiny, teasing kiss to the tip of her nose. “I love everything about you.”

“Even though I’m stubborn and opinionated?”

“Because you’re stubborn and opinionated.”

“Don’t forget outspoken.”

He groaned and bit her lower lip. “Hard to forget when I’m trying to sweet talk you and you won’t shut up.”

Lottie reached up to frame his face with her hands, her heart threatening to pound out of her chest. “As long as you know what you’re getting into, honey.”

“I do, sweetheart.” Love shone in his eyes, and trust. And happiness. “What about you? You’re getting both halves of me, Charlotte. Quiet and restrained is who I have to be in the pack.”

She loved that about him, too, that he cared enough about the pack to take on the responsibility of being Jack’s second-in-command. An alpha was feared, respected, even revered, but acting as beta was often a thankless job.

And what she’d told him was true; she couldn’t have been happy with a man so used to having his unquestioned way that he never stopped to ask what she felt was best. “I love both halves of you,” she whispered softly. “I want both halves of you.”

“Then they’re yours,” he replied just as quietly. “For as long as you want me.”

Only one word came to mind. “Forever.”