An American Werewolf in Hoboken (13 page)

So how had she managed to pick
this
man, who didn’t appear to have any issues at all? Could her luck be changing?

No. There was that small niggle—that warning that something wasn’t right.

Viv would tell her she was looking for trouble. In fact, she
had
when they’d talked earlier today.
Stop picking things apart, J
, she’d said.
Just go with it. Enjoy the attention of a real man instead of those phonies you attract like flypaper.

Right. Enjoy so much she fell for him—and then the other shoe drops and he has anger management issues, or he’s a mama’s boy or an escaped con.

Though the Google search she’d done on him said he wasn’t fresh out of the slammer. Just an environmentalist.

A clatter from her bedroom had her leaving her doubts alone for the time being and slipping off the counter to go find out what Fluffy was into now.

* * *

Max shifted back into were-form, subsequently knocking over the picture of JC’s parents on her nightstand and dropping his phone.

He hunkered down, blowing chunks of hair under the bed that were shed during his shift. Just as she rounded the corner to her bedroom, he noted his clothes and phone were still visible. He kept spare clothes under her bed, tucked back behind a plastic tub she kept more shoes in, so he’d always have something to put on when he was racing from her place to his.

Making a break for it, he launched himself at his clothes, flopping down hard on the floor, and pushing the items under her bed with his hind legs.

His neck cracked, making him whimper. This 007 stuff was going to require a chiropractor if this kept up.

JC folded her arms across her chest with the frowny face, a pout firmly on her lips.

A scolding. He was in for one.

She stooped to pick up the frame he’d knocked down and squatted on the floor beside him. “You broke it, Fluff. Listen, buddy. I know you’re klunky and sometimes it’s hard to move around in such tight spaces, but you have to be careful.”

He nudged her thigh, putting as much remorse into his eyes as was capable in shift.

She grinned at him and scratched his ear. “I know you didn’t mean it. Forgiven,” she said, rising to head to her closet.

As she looked for an outfit, he watched her, reading her body language, interpreting the emotions she threw out in wave upon wave of vibrations.

Fear. She was afraid. Afraid and excited. Huh.

“You know, Fluff, I want you to meet Max, but I’m worried,” she said, holding up a red dress in front of her.

His ears twitched. Worried? Why was she worried?

“I know you’ll think this is ridiculous, but letting him meet you, letting him come to my apartment instead of always meeting at his place, is almost like letting him have the last piece of me—what’s mine. Aside from the fact that you’re not fond of men. Look at the way you behaved with the vet today.”

He grunted his confusion. First, the good doctor was ogling her. Not okay. Second, the last piece of her? This was the part where the
Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus
theory applied.

How could letting someone into your apartment compare to losing a piece of yourself?

She glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled, smoothing her hand down the skirt of the dress. “You look confused, Fluff, and I know why. Because you’re a man.”

Unless I’m pretending to be your dog.

Wait, what?

“Let me clear it up for you. Here’s what happens after the man comes to your apartment. Next up is giving him a key—after that, he invades your life, your world, and then he does something shitty to you and you have to end it if you hope to keep your dignity. So now, every time you’re in your apartment, he’s there, too. All the memories, and his stuff—and inevitably, he finds a reason to come back for his stuff. Him and his body so perfect, it looks like it’s been airbrushed.”

Jess. This led back to Jess. Asshole. He’d never treat her the way Jess did. But he kinda liked that she thought his body looked as if it had been airbrushed.

She slid her bathrobe off while he looked the other way. When he was Fluffy, he didn’t have a choice but to listen to her talk, but to see her naked when she hadn’t invited him to do so felt far too voyeuristic. Too shady.

He already had an unfair advantage just being privy to her thoughts about him.

“And don’t go thinking this is about Jess,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “I didn’t feel about him the way I feel about Max. This is about
all
the men I’ve dated. Every time I think everything’s going well, I find out I don’t know what going well
is
. Viv says I should just enjoy this. Enjoy how well Max treats me and stop analyzing everything to death. But when you have several failed relationships to your credit, if you don’t analyze what you’ve been doing wrong, don’t at least lay some blame at your own feet for repeating the same mistakes, you’re an idiot.”

Viv was a good friend. He hoped she’d be there when JC needed her the most. Because she would need her.

“No doubt Max is amazing. But no one is
that
amazing. No one. He’s got an Achilles heel, a skeleton in his closet—something. I just don’t know what it is yet. But I almost don’t want to. Because I really like him, Fluff. I’m this close to…”

She trailed off, as if finishing the sentence out loud would offer up a disastrous result to the universe.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

I’m this close, too, JC.

So close.

Chapter Eleven

Max opened his apartment door, smiling and smelling of man and spicy cologne. His burgundy knit shirt hugged his muscled chest and his snug jeans pulled taut over every ripple of his thighs, making her mouth water.

“Aw, boo-hiss. You wore clothes,” he teased, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

JC held up the bottle of white wine and grinned. “But I have wine.”

“You don’t think wine’s going to make up for you wearing clothes, do you? It’ll never work. Don’t try to butter me up.”

“Well, in an effort not to shock our neighbors, I figured I’d better at least wear something. But who’s to say what’s under my dress—or what’s
not
under my dress?” she asked, batting her eyelashes comically.

She’d decided to take Viv’s advice and just enjoy. Max was an amazingly smart, virile, sexy-as-hell man. Things that should be enjoyed.

He growled at her and yanked her inside, taking the wine and setting it on the table beside the door before pushing her up against the wall, dropping kisses on her jaw. “You would tempt me before we’ve even had tuna noodle casserole? Saucy.”

JC melted into him, loving the feel of his body pressed to hers, the way they blended together—mesmerized by the power he had to make her knees weak with just one kiss. She trailed a finger over his cheek and chuckled at the patch of hair he’d missed when shaving. “Did the tuna noodle casserole take up too much of your grooming time? You missed a spot when you shaved, Adams.”

Max grabbed her finger, bringing it to his lips to kiss the tip, his eyes playful. “I’m exhausted. I cooked all day for you.”

“Tuna noodle casserole takes all day to prepare?”

He slipped her finger between his lips and nibbled, sending a zing of pleasure through her. “All day
. All. Day
. And I mopped the floor, too, and did a load of laundry.”

Pulling him closer by gripping the front of his shirt, JC wrapped a leg around his hip, exhilarated to find Max was hard as a rock. “What if I said I’ll do the dishes to make it up to you?”

He let his hand slide up her thigh and gripped her ass in his palm, pulling her tighter to his length. He hissed his pleasure when he realized she had no panties on. “I’d say you need a bigger bargaining chip. Much bigger.”

JC mock-sighed, letting her shoulders sag. “Fine. I’ll pour the wine. Do we have a deal?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and stretching higher.

“Did I mention I cooked
all day
?” he asked, brushing the length of her neck with his mouth, making her shiver.

Her nipples tightened, scraping against her dress with delightful friction. “You did. It was exhausting, as I recall. I don’t know how you’ll ever summon the energy to eat your spoils. Maybe you should lie down? Nap? I don’t want you to tax yourself and miss out on this casserole you slaved over.”

“Or maybe you could offer me a better deal? I’m open to negotiation.”

She giggled as his fingers teased the top of her thigh. “What’s better than me doing the dishes? I draw the line at washing your car, pal.”

“Damn. It really needs washing.”

Her head fell back on her shoulders when Max walked his fingers across her abdomen. “You don’t want me to have dishpan hands, do you?”

Max lifted her dress up around her waist, the cool air of the room teasing her skin. “Speaking of hands,” he said between delectable kisses. “Know where I’d like your hands?”

JC shuddered against him when
his
hand slid between her thighs and his fingers spread her wide. “Over my mouth?” she teased, gasping when his thumb stroked her clit.

Max wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pressed her hand to the wide bulge in his jeans. “Or here,” he muttered against her lips before capturing them in a searing kiss.

She pressed into him with a sharp gasp, loving the feel of his mouth on hers, the strength his body exuded, the power of the bold strokes he made between her legs.

They fit. When they were like this, they fit, and it was in these moments she knew it was useless to deny the chemistry between them.

The only thing she could do was respond to him, savor him, let the slow build of her lust carry her away.

“Now you have a deal,” she whispered into his mouth, trying to wrap her legs around him.

Max scooped her up and walked them to his bedroom, depositing her on his big bed, grabbing a condom from the nightstand and throwing it beside her. The sheets were cool on her back, countering her heated skin. Her nipples beaded tight when Max dragged her dress over her head, leaving nothing but her bra and heels on.

JC started to remove her heels but he grabbed her calf, leaning her leg against his chest, running his chin along the smooth surface. “Leave them on,” he ordered before trailing kisses along her flesh until he was kneeling in front of her, at the apex of her thighs.

Grabbing at his shoulders, she pulled his shirt over his head and was treated to a closer look at his finely sculpted chest. Gorgeous ripples of ropey muscle led to narrowed hips and long legs he was currently using to shove his way out of his jeans.

He stole the air from her lungs when their eyes met. Everything about Max changed when they made love. He wasn’t the funny, easygoing guy she had dinner with, or laughed with about something funny on Facebook.

No. Max was all shades of serious intent. His eyes always went dark and cloudy, his skin stretching taut as his muscles tensed and flexed. His movements had purpose—even the gentle strokes of his tongue over every intimate part of her body weren’t to be taken lightly.

But his intensity didn’t frighten her, it exhilarated her; that euphoria hung around long after they lay together sated.

And there he was, between her thighs, his warm breath teasing her, his lips moving closer then pulling away until she wanted to scream—order him to drive his tongue into her swollen heat.

Max’s hair brushed against her flesh as he dipped his head to run his tongue over the crease where her thigh connected to her lower abdomen. His hot breath drove her to arch upward, legs spreading willingly as she held her breath, anticipating the rasp of his tongue, the deep drive of his fingers when he thrust them into her.

Large fingers skimmed her swollen flesh with a light touch, tracing it, hovering over it, along with his lips. JC’s hands went to her sides, tensing, bracing herself for the slide of his wet tongue.

His exploration was agonizingly slow, whisper-light kisses of heat followed by feathery licks. When he spread her flesh with two fingers and drove a hand under her ass, anchoring her in place, JC fought the impulse to beg him to put his mouth on her now.

Max’s tongue snaked out, taking a quick swipe of her clit, making her hips buck, reaching for more. And with a groan, Max complied, taking a long pass over the seam of her flesh.

She tore at the blanket, clutching it to stop from grabbing Max’s head and jamming it closer, demanding he satisfy her. Still he teased, tugging at the swollen bud, sending sharp jolts of electricity over her flushed skin. His finger slipped inside her and she clenched around it in desperation. JC rocked, rolling her hips as Max licked her, increasing his thrusts of tongue and finger.

The throb between her legs caught fire, building that endless burn into a gnawing plea for release. Her legs came up and wrapped around Max’s shoulders as her muscles clenched and her body began to tense.

With her eyes shut tight, JC strained against Max’s mouth as the first tendril of electricity wound its way upward, tearing through her with a sweet sharpness she couldn’t get enough of. The wave of sheer pleasure gripped her, held on, let go, pushed until she went over the edge with a scream that erupted from her throat and tore at the silence of the room.

Max groaned against her, decreasing the pressure of his mouth as her lower body drifted back to the bed, relaxing. He stroked her skin, soothing her, easing with gentle hands until JC caught her breath.

His head came into view as he slid up on the bed, covering her body with his. JC clung to his shoulders, digging her fingers into his flesh, burying her nose in his neck. His cock, hot and heavy, lie between them, a temptation she couldn’t resist. Reaching for him, she cradled his hard shaft in her hands, stroked the rigid length until he let out a low moan.

Now Max was the one to arch up, his neck stretched back, the bulge of muscle and veins rigid and pulsing. JC pumped him with slow strokes and Max’s hips pressed toward her hand. She tugged him upward until he straddled her body, leaning back, jabbing into the warm tunnel of her hands. Wetting her lips, she led him to her mouth. As her tongue tentatively tasted him, Max gripped her head, ran his hand over her jaw.