Dingo Wild (The Dingo Pack Book 1) Page 13
She stopped herself from yanking open the door half a heartbeat after her fingers wrapped around the knob. What the hell was she doing?
Pulse pounding, mouth dry, pussy aching, she looked down at herself.
The towel had fallen from her body somewhere between her bedroom and the front door. Her breasts were swollen and heaving, her nipples hard and puckered. Her belly was doing some bizarre, hitching dance, as if it knew what was about to happen and couldn’t wait.
She sucked in a sharp breath, dismayed and, quite frankly, more than a touch worried, and let out a soft groan. The air smelled of her pleasure. She was so ripe, so ready to be fucked she could smell her own need.
And even with that horrifying realization, even at the sight of her naked body, at the feel of her juices on the tops of her inner thighs, she was still about to pull the door open. Because on the other side was her stranger, her psychotic kisser. She was sure of it. Completely sure. And she so wanted to be kissed by him again. Kissed and fucked and claimed.
Holy moly, woman, what is wrong with you?
She jerked her hand from the doorknob as if it was a snake. An angry snake. Took a step back from the door.
Stared at it.
Heard her blood roaring in her ears, like the hungry call of a creature from her dreams.
The doorbell rang again and she gasped.
“I can hear your want,” a man called from the other side of the door, his deep voice muffled by two inches of steel-cored wood. “Just as powerfully as I can smell it.”
Sera gasped again. She scurried back, stare locked on the closed door. He was here. Holy fuck, how could he be here?
Doesn’t matter. Open the door and let him in.
She shook her head. “Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin,” she whispered.
“I’m not a wolf,” he called from the other side.
Sera didn’t just yelp this time, she squealed. She stumbled back several more steps, mouth open, ready to tell whoever her stranger was to go the fuck away, when her heel came down on the towel so conveniently on the floor behind her. Soft Egyptian cotton slid over polished wood, and before she could save herself, the world slipped under her and she landed on her arse. With a thud. And another yelp.
“Fuck, that hurt!”
The door slammed open before the exclamation could finish bursting past her lips, the sound of splintering wood drowning out her cry a second before her mysterious stranger stormed into the house and scooped her from the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Her question squeaked from her. There wasn’t really any other way to describe the way the words came out of her mouth. She squeaked them, like a trapped mouse. Except no mouse had ever been held naked against a chest so broad and hard, by arms so strong and perfect. Oh God, were they strong. And perfect.
Reality hit her.
“Put me down!”
She thrashed in his arms, far too turned-on for her sanity. She writhed and bucked until, with another shout, she tumbled from his strong, perfect arms to her feet. God, she was all about making stupid noises today, wasn’t she?
She hit the floor with a solid thud, bounced on her feet, stumbled sideways and scooped up her towel as she went. For a surreal moment she saw herself in all her naked glory—damp hair lashing around her face like red strands of rope, boobs jiggling, arms and legs waving about. For another surreal moment she thought thank freaking God I waxed yesterday, and then she was backing up against floor-to-ceiling mirror, knotting her wet towel around her chest and glaring at the man currently standing in her house.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she spat out between ragged breaths.
Eyes the color of midnight studied her. He didn’t take a step. He just stood motionless, his tall, imposing, dominating body decked out in snug, faded Levis and a black polo, his gaze trained on her through an artfully messy tumble of glossy raven-black hair. “I—”
She didn’t let him finish. “How did you find me…are you a stalker? Are you stalking me?”
He shook his head, a pained expression flashing across features that were way too gorgeous not to be unnerving. “No,” he said, and Sera ground her teeth at the hungry way her body reacted to the deep timbre of his voice. “But I need to—”
“Fuck off,” she snapped, narrowing her eyes. “That’s what you need to do. Why the hell did you just break in my door if—”
“I heard you fall and hurt your—”
“That doesn’t mean you can—”
“Listen, you need—”
“Get lost, creep! And to think I just masturba—” She slapped her hand to her mouth. Oh Jesus, had she really almost said what she’d been about to say?
Her stranger—stop it! He’s not your anything!—cocked his head to the side and took a step toward her. “What did you just do?”
Sera smooshed herself closer to the mirror and cursed her idiocy—one, for backing her bare butt against a solid surface, limiting her escape options, and two, for opening her big, idiotic mouth. “Take another step,” she snarled, fighting to keep her anger, “and you’re in for a world of pain.” She should have been furious and petrified and panicked. Instead, the closer her stranger came, the more she wanted him, as if she were a cat to his funky-arsed catnip.
Cat, mouse…what other kind of animal do you purport to be this afternoon, Sera? Goat? Monkey? Lizard?
Her stranger’s eyes seemed to shimmer with a burnished heat. “I like the sound of that last one.”
Sera’s mouth fell open. He didn’t just read her mind. No way. “Okay, seriously, take one more step and I’m kicking your balls in!”
A small, crooked grin curled one side of his mouth. “One more step and I’ll have you flattened to that mirror with my mouth on yours.”
A wave of traitorous heat rolled through her, tight and delicious and…wrong. This was so wrong. A strange man was in her house, had broken into her house and seen her naked—God, held her naked. He’d kissed her, stalked her back here and now she was horny? Again? This couldn’t be any more wrong.
So why does it feel right, Sera? Right on every damn level?
She narrowed her eyes. And then said the most ridiculous thing she’d ever uttered in her life. “Try it.”
His nostrils flared. “Okay.”
He moved. With wholly unnatural speed.
One second he was several feet away, the next he was pushed against her, his hands pinning her wrists beside her head, one thick, hard thigh rubbing between her legs. Rubbing over her clit. Stimulating it. Teasing it.
“H-how…” she began, her voice barely a croaking whisper. “How did you…”
“Because I’m a dragon,” he stated on a low murmur, gazing into her eyes, “and you’re my Fire Mate.”
And then his mouth did indeed claim hers. Thoroughly.
~
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About Lexxie
Award-winning romance author Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six, and hasn't stopped since. She's not a deviant, but she does have a deviant's imagination, and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get erotic romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear, or tremble with desire…sometimes all at once.
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Stimulated, a Contemporary Romance series
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3. Switching It On
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4. Plugging It In
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Dangerous Desire, an Erotic Contemporary Romance series
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2. The Good Girl In My Bed
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2. Outback Cowboy
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3. Outback Master
4. Outback Lovers
Heart of Fame, a Contemporary Romance series
4.5. Compliance
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5.5. A Single Knight
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9. Balls Up
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10. Lust’s Rhythm
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The Boundaries, a Science Fiction Romance series
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Fire Mates, a Paranormal Romantic Suspense series
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Chapter 1
As a rule, Alice Wilkie didn’t participate in fix-ups. Just because she was on the other side of thirty and once again unattached did not mean she was looking for a serious relationship. She’d been there, thank you, and come out of it feeling raw and battle weary. She had an extensive DVD library and no one to hog the remote. Right now, she didn’t need a man.
Unfortunately, the more Alice made this declaration to her well-meaning neighbor Yolanda Kaminski, the less the elderly lady seemed to believe her. Mrs. K was always trying to set Alice up with the “nice young men” she met through her network of friends—all retired ladies keen to offload their single or divorced sons onto any woman who’d take them.
Alice looked at the man sitting beside her at the bar of Maxine’s, a popular place in Broadbeach. He saw her glance and wiggled his eyebrows at her. Alice forced a smile that hurt her cheeks. Ron Akron. Why had she relented to Yolanda’s prodding? She’d let a little old lady set her up with one of her friend’s sons, a used-car salesman no less, one with a pronounced paunch and an even more pronounced bald spot. One who should have come wearing a warning sign: boring, self-inflated pain in the ass ahead. Proceed with caution. Subject may get grabby when intoxicated.
She’d thought it couldn’t do any harm just to meet with the guy. Even though she wasn’t in the mood for anything serious, a bit of casual male companionship wouldn’t go amiss, not to mention the occasional bout of life-affirming sex. She knew none of that was going to happen if she refused to be open-minded about meeting new men.
The idea of having life-affirming sex with Ron made her cringe, so Alice wasn’t so sure being open-minded had a lot going for it.
“Yeah, so I said to the guy, ‘I can’t do a deal for any less than forty-five thousand’. This is a Peugeot we’re talking about. Beautiful midnight blue, only two years old. Driven by a boring old coot who never pushed it past sixty—you know what I mean?” Ron laughed, making the scent of scotch waft over Alice’s face in an unpleasant wave. “Did he take me for some kind of chump? My ass, Steelers were going to do him a deal for thirty-nine ninety-nine.”
“Steelers?”
“The imported car dealer down the road. I told you that already, Alison.”
Alice figured he must have mentioned it during one of the many diatribes in which she’d drifted off to compose a mental shopping list. Milk, bread, peanut butter. A big inflatable mallet to hit Yolanda over the head with.
Alice pushed out a sigh. Okay, cancel the mallet. Yolanda was sixty-eight and way too sweet to inflict even pretend violence upon. “It’s Alice,” she halfheartedly corrected him.
“Right, right.” Ron nodded, his attention no longer on her. He swiveled on his barstool and caught the bartender’s eye. Then he swirled the ice in his nearly empty glass and held up two fingers.
He hadn’t even asked her if she wanted another chardonnay but apparently she was getting one. Alice knew she had already wasted enough time with this guy and certainly that Ron could do without another double scotch on the rocks. Yet she bit down on her impatience to leave, wanting to make sure she had enough justification for Yolanda as to why Betty’s lovely son wasn’t her type.
Alice suppressed a sigh. She supposed there could be worse ways to spend her Friday night than drinking wine in the pleasant ambience of one of trendiest wine bars on the Gold Coast. The girl in the corner playing acoustic versions of modern hits wasn’t half-bad. Might as well let Ron buy her another drink before she headed home to her lonely apartment.
Besides, she could always throw the fresh drink in Ron’s face if things got any grimmer. “Forty-five thousand dollars seems a lot to pay for a car,” she remarked as their order arrived.
Apparently her comment came under the definition of sacrilegious in Ron’s little universe. “For a mint-condition Peugeot 307 sport model, double overhead cam, variable valve camshaft and gloss paint? That baby goes from zero to one hundred in ten seconds. Any guy who is gonna skimp on the vehicle that is gonna be his ride has lost his balls. You know what I mean?”
Alice had no earthly idea. “So you’re saying a man’s ride is somehow indicative of his manliness?”
Pleased with her understanding of the situation, Ron winked at her. “Exactly. I mean, I’m sure you check out a guy’s ride before you,” his smile widened into smarmy territory as he reached across from his barstool and put his hand on Alice’s knee, “ride. If you know what I mean.”
Alice glanced down at his hand. He had surprisingly nimble fingers for such a beefy guy. Even as she stared, they slithered uninvited beneath the hem of her all-purpose little black dress, inching dangerously close to the lacy tops of her thigh-high stockings. She’d donned the sexy lingerie two hours ago with the utmost optimism. She should have known better.
“My apartment has a g
reat view of the beach. Feel like taking a drive?”
Oh good grief. This had gone far enough. Alice set her wine on the bar before she gave in to the temptation to toss it in Ron’s face after all. He might deserve it but she’d never done anything that radical in her life. Maybe she simply wasn’t the drink-tossing type. “Itching to show me your double overhead cam, Ron?”
“Oh yeah. Definitely.” His fingers advanced, traveling far beyond appropriate. He gave her an oily grin. “So you’re into it?”
“Forget it, mate. Cars don’t impress her.”
The voice came from behind her and at the sound of it Alice turned and came face-to-face with a trendy purple-and-black-striped business shirt and purple silk tie. A black suit jacket hung casually unbuttoned from an impressively wide pair of shoulders.
The outfit belonged on a billboard advertising high-end menswear. She looked up and saw eyes as blue and clear as swimming pools looking down at her. The face belonged on a billboard too, what with the strong jaw, straight nose and soft lips. And he smelled good. The subtle hint of some classy aftershave clung to his clothes, tickling Alice’s olfactory senses and making her forget all about the cloying scent Ron had splashed on.
It took Alice a few seconds to find her voice. “Excuse me—do I know you?”
Mr. Handsome placed a hand to his chest as though fending off a fatal blow. “How soon she forgets.” He moved forward, inching into the space between her and Ron. The wine bar was crowded with the after-work drinks crowd, forcing the guy to stand pretty close—so close Alice felt the body heat radiating from him. His eyes flickered in Ron’s direction before refocusing immediately on Alice’s face with a gaze like twin blue lasers. “What’s this? You’re dating again already?”
“Yeah, she is,” Ron piped up, giving Alice’s knee a possessive squeeze. “She’s dating me.”
“You’ve found another victim so soon?” Blue Eyes tilted his lips at her. “I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose. You never did like to waste time.”
Alice swiveled on her barstool so she was fully facing the stranger who seemed to think they knew each other. The action had the dual effect of wresting her knee from Ron’s unwanted grip. “I think there’s been some mistake.”