Foxy Lady: A Cougar Falls Story Read online

  A man would have to be blind not to appreciate her looks—golden hair streaked with honey, exotically slanted eyes that hinted at mystery, and full lips promising everything a man might want. Her body curved in all the right places, yet had a toned toughness that told Hunter she wouldn’t break, even under a bit of rough handling.

  The thought aroused him into taking a step forward. Desire engulfed him, and he literally ached, needing to touch her, to be inside that glorious body and discover just what it was about her that captivated him. Only one woman had ever come this close to making him lose control, and look at how that had turned out.

  Angered at reminders of the poor choices he’d once made, he locked down his traitorous body and forced himself to handle this—her.

  “All right, Sainte. Enough is enough,” he growled.

  She shrieked in surprise and sloshed in the tub, allowing him glimpses of slick flesh while she tried to gain her feet. Forcing himself to ignore the impulse to reach out and touch, he handed her a towel.

  She grabbed it from him and hastily wrapped it around herself. “What— Who—” She took a deep breath. “How the hell did you get in my apartment?”

  He frowned. “You need to update your security. Pretty sad that I managed your locks in less than a minute.”

  Slicking her hair back, she regarded him with caution and kept a firm hand on the top of her towel.

  He forced himself to look no lower than her chin. “We need to talk.”

  “No shit.” Instead of the fear he assumed he’d face, the woman had the nerve to step out of the tub right in front of him. No more than three inches remained between him and her delectable body draped with a thin towel. “You can’t just barge into private property whenever you feel like it, Greye. Now get the hell out of my bathroom. Get the hell out of my apartment!”

  “I don’t think you understand me, angel. I’m here to talk. All you need to do is listen.” He stepped closer and inhaled her scent—feminine, floral and damned arousing. Pressed so close, she had to notice his reaction. When her eyes widened, he gave her a grim smile and leaned closer, caught by her tremulous gaze. “I didn’t want to do it this way,” he said darkly. “But you keep playing your games.”

  “Games?” she parroted, her gaze glued to his mouth.

  Disturbingly pleased he wasn’t the only one affected, Hunter strove to focus on the topic at hand. “The coffee? The chocolate? The feel of your soft skin under my hands? Projecting your bullshit is only distracting me from the mission at hand.”

  She blinked up at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know.” He couldn’t help himself and latched onto the firm strength of her shoulders. His thumb brushed the side of her breast, and she gasped. “You’re a beautiful woman, and you know it. You don’t need to play games to get my attention. Just let me handle this job, and I’ll give you exactly what you’ve been asking for.”

  Her apparent anger stirred him past reason. Alexandra Sainte in nothing but a towel was bad enough, but in a passionate temper, her energy seethed and drew him like a moth to flame.

  “Why you arrogant—”

  The little witch thought to challenge him even now? The hell she did.

  He kissed past her denial, knowing she didn’t mean it. He could all but sense her arousal as it pulsed through him. Feminine need and anger warred until her rage surrendered to the attraction between them. Everything she felt, Hunter felt as well, until he regained control once more, taking charge of his emotions.

  Love can be a force of nature.

  Serengeti Lightning

  © 2010 Vivi Andrews

  Serengeti Shifters, Book 3

  Mara Leonard is through hitting the snooze button on her biological clock. The Three Rocks Pride schoolteacher is ready to get serious about starting a family, and she needs a serious man to make that happen.

  Regrettably, that means crossing less-than-serious Michael Minor off her list of potential mates. Michael is impulsive and passionate, but his spontaneity leaks into shapeshifting whenever his emotions run high—a tendency he should have outgrown long ago. As a sex buddy, he’s delicious. Daddy material? Disqualified.

  Michael is blindsided by Mara’s rejection. Nine years separate them, and his genetic malady means no one in the pride treats him as an adult. But if she thinks he’ll simply slink away to lick his wounds while she steps into the arms of another man, she has seriously underestimated him.

  The tricky part will be convincing his over-analytical lover that he’s more than a disposable sex toy. That real bravery means tearing up her damn checklist and following her heart. And doing it without letting their explosive sexual chemistry expose the Pride’s secrets to the outside world.

  Warning: This book features break-up sex, make-up sex, a lioness who’s a cougar and a hot young lion who’s grown up in all the right ways. Note: All electrical shocks are purely metaphorical.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Serengeti Lightning:

  He’d wanted tonight to be perfect. This date was his chance to prove he deserved her, to show they were more than just hot sex. He knew she didn’t think he was steady enough to be her mate, but he’d hoped to prove her wrong tonight.

  Instead, all he’d proven was that he hadn’t changed at all.

  His sister, Ava, would remind him it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it. The pride doctor said Michael was missing a neural inhibitor that drew the line between animal and man.

  The science was small comfort. He would never be worthy of the woman curled against his side. How long could he expect her to stay with someone who could never give her the stability she craved? One more month? Two? Then who would she run to?

  Michael forced the thought of the man who would take his place out of his head. Jealousy was savage—more likely than any other emotion to bring on a shift. He needed to get her back to the ranch, back onto pride lands, where a loss of control wouldn’t expose them all.

  He started to set her away from him, preparing to load her into the front seat, but her scent curled around him. Michael froze in place, his hands tight on her. He barely managed to keep his claws from snapping out.

  Intermingled with the sweet twist of jasmine was the sinuous spice of lust. He could taste her desire on the air. While he’d been contemplating his sabotage of their relationship, Mara had apparently been thinking more much luscious thoughts. Naughty girl.

  “Michael?” She spoke softly, a whisper on the warm spring breeze, but he felt that sigh of sound like a fist around his cock.

  She slipped between him and the SUV, rubbing her body against his front every inch of the way.

  Over the last few months, they’d learned one another’s wants and needs. At first, they’d both assumed they would eventually grow tired of each other, but familiarity had only intensified each experience. They’d learned to play to their personal vices. He knew exactly how to touch her to get her wet in a heartbeat. And she knew he went hard at just the idea of pinning her to things—walls, doors, slippery shower tiles. He couldn’t seem to get enough of crowding her against firm surfaces until she had no choice but to yield her softness to him.

  Michael leaned into her, looming over her and pressing her back against the door until he heard the telltale catch in her breath. She loved this too. Mara may be dominant, but she almost never wanted to be on top. She wanted the man who would push her until she gave in, trusting her pleasure to his strength. She wanted him.

  Now if only he could convince her their compatibility didn’t end at the bedroom door.

  Heavy-lidded eyes beckoned him. “Your wildness makes me feel wild,” she purred.

  Michael hesitated. Mara was never reckless. She reasoned things out and made the good decision, every time. So there was absolutely no explanation for her current behavior.

  He had calmed. He was ready to take her home. All she had to do was hop in the car and drive back to the safety of the ranch. So why was she inciting him?


  She urged him forward and he followed her lead. He bore her back against the metal wall of the SUV until the vehicle rocked slightly. She seemed to bask in the warmth of his body, drawing him tighter against her, if that was even possible. A small, sinful curve of a smile flashed out around her mouth.

  Was she thinking what he was thinking? If he took her here, against the Cherokee, would they tip it? He knew he shouldn’t want to try, but was captivated by the image teasing his thoughts. When she bit her lip, he wanted to bite it for her then suck that plump curve into his mouth.

  “We should go.” His voice was as rough as the gravel beneath their feet, but he kept his hands gentle as they stroked down her sides, over the flare of her hips, pausing above the hem of her skirt.

  They should go. He should back away. He could yank up that little skirt, wrap those long legs around his hips and fuck her senseless just as soon as they were back on pride land. A fucking parking lot, no matter how late it was, no matter how deep the shadows, was no place for this kind of game. He gripped her hips, fully intending to step away, but Mara—never, ever reckless Mara—forced his hand.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushed up onto her toes and captured his mouth in a ravenous, open-mouthed kiss. She begged him with her mouth, drawing him into her madness with each longing pull of her lips and strong sweep of her tongue. Or was it his madness she was surrendering to? Right now, he didn’t know or care. Her willing heat fried his last working brain cells and he fell into instinct and need.

  Michael took command of the kiss. He sucked that luscious lip and gently scraped his teeth across it. His hands fisted in her skirt, jerking the stretchy fabric up, and Mara sighed into his mouth. God, he loved the noises she made, the little murmurs and sighs, not quite caught in her throat. She was musical in her passion, an instrument his fingers loved to pluck and strum.

  The skin of her thighs was satin beneath his fingers. He wrapped his hands around the backs of her thighs. His fingertips brushed against her heat and he hissed out a curse.

  She wasn’t wearing panties. And she was dripping already. His slightest touch called forth another rush of moisture. Her need hit his nostrils, fogging his already blurry thoughts.

  With one swift pull, he lifted her. Her legs wrapped snuggly around his hips. He notched his denim-covered erection against her pussy, but he didn’t push like he wanted to, concerned about the rough fabric against her sensitive flesh. He shouldn’t have worried. Mara ground herself on him, tearing her lips away from his to gasp out his name.

  “Easy,” he murmured into the hair at her temple, barely recognizing his own voice. He slid his hand between them and slicked a finger through her folds. The touch was designed to be more soothing than arousing. He wanted to wind her up a little tighter before he let her take off.

  Being needed isn't half as desirable as being wanted.

  Undertow

  © 2010 Moira Rogers

  Building Sanctuary, Book 2

  Victor left behind a life of crime to focus on a new vision—helping his alpha build an island sanctuary for werewolves. Harsh experiences prepared him for the hardships involved, except when it comes to dealing with the young female refugees of the brutal Boston pack—especially Simone, who rouses his inner wolf like no other. A woman he must resist, or risk becoming just the latest man to make demands on her.

  Born to wealth and privilege, Simone lost everything when she fell for the seductive whispers of the textile heir who turned her. Once adrift, now she is fired by a new sense of purpose—the chance to broker peace between werewolves and European wizards. Yet even as Europe beckons, her instincts—the same ones that led to trouble before—keep drawing her back to Victor.

  During a sailing trip to the mainland for supplies, Victor finds it impossible to hold himself aloof from the warm, engaging Simone. And when a winter storm traps them together during a full moon, she breaks through his walls so easily and completely, the question is no longer how he’ll stay away, but how he’ll let her go.

  Warning: This novella contains werewolves engaged in such improbable (but legal) activities as lobster fishing and sailing during nor'easters. The breaking and entering and instinct-driven sex on every surface in someone else’s summer cottage is a little more criminal.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Undertow:

  Shifting back to his human form too soon would leave him feral and edgy, but staying a wolf too long would exhaust her. After a few hours, Victor began to herd her back in the direction of the cabin, willing to deal with his own discomfort to spare hers.

  She caught on, but stopped short with a yip, and he had to nudge her on before she moved again. She paused again as soon as they cleared the trees by the cabin, watching him carefully.

  He huffed and nipped at her flank, and she danced away and bounded to the door. He’d propped it open before shifting, so she had only to push it wide and run inside.

  Magic rippled through the air as he ran in, and he found her already kneeling by the banked fire, her pale skin glinting in the dim light. “We’ll have to stir this up.”

  Victor nudged the door shut and let her see to the fire. She had the advantage now. Freed from the call of the moon, she wouldn’t fall victim to it again unless fear or pain brought the wolf to the surface.

  He had a harder battle to fight. The moon hung heavy overhead and dug claws deep into his soul. The wolf struggled, demanding another chance to run and revel, to be free and wild.

  Long minutes passed before he knelt trembling on the floor, sides heaving with rough pants.

  “You didn’t have to come back in,” she murmured. “You could stay out. I’ll be fine.”

  “So will I.” Eventually. “I wanted to come with you.”

  The flames jumped and crackled as the fresh logs caught, and Simone stood slowly. “Can I help?”

  She was naked. Beautiful. His to take. Even with pain lingering in his body, his cock stiffened. “That depends. Do you still want me?”

  She tilted her head, and a coppery curl fell over her cheek. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want you.”

  The answer was everything he needed. He rocked to his feet and crossed the space between them, stopping a foot away to admire the wicked curves of her body. Full breasts, flared hips, soft, pale skin… “You’re so beautiful.”

  She closed some of the distance, her fingertips skimming his arms as her gaze drifted down his body. “So are you.”

  He had to make it worth the wait. He had to make up for every moment of pain he’d caused her, erase it all and leave pleasure in its place. The bed was close enough to the fire to benefit from its warmth, so he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the rumpled blankets.

  When he laid her on the bed, Simone bit her lip and held out her arms. “Seems silly to be nervous, but I am.”

  Victor had no idea if Simone had taken a lover after Edwin, and had no intention of bringing the bastard up now. Instead he slid onto the bed, into her arms, and kissed her softly. “Nothing to be nervous about, darling.”

  “It’s easy for you.” She wrapped her hands around him and pulled him closer. “Every time you kiss me, I turn to mush.”

  “Just because I’m getting harder instead of softer doesn’t mean you’re not turning me to mush.”

  Some of the nervousness faded from her smile, and she teased one hand down his side. “An interesting point. One I’ll have to bear in mind.”

  He would kiss her first, he decided. Kiss her until she’d forgotten what nerves were, then trace every inch of her with his tongue. She deserved a slow seduction. Worship. He’d claim her by pleasing her.

  Her mouth opened under his, soft and needy, and she made quiet noises of pleasure. Before long, her body arched to his, hot and seeking.

  The feel of her soft skin under his fingers drove him half-mad. He spread his fingers wide on her abdomen, sweeping his thumb up and down until she nipped at his chin, then gave in and swept his hand up to cup
her breast.

  Her gasp echoed in the quiet of the room as her nipple hardened under his palm. “Yes.”

  “You like this?” He teased his thumb over her nipple and delighted in the play of pleasure across her face. “Would you like my tongue? My teeth?”

  Her breath caught, and she slipped her own hand to her other breast and echoed his movements. “Both.”

  So he gave her both, teasing licks giving way to soft nips as his fingers traced her hip and her waist and the soft curve of her belly—anywhere but the beckoning heat between her thighs.

  As Simone’s pleasure grew, so did her confidence. She smiled wickedly and rubbed her thigh against his erection. “Can I touch you?”

  He couldn’t deny her anything with that light filling her eyes. “Any damn place you want.”

  Her hand skimmed his stomach and his hip. “Here?”

  If she wrapped her fingers around his dick, he’d explode. It might be worth it. “Anywhere.”

  “Anywhere,” she echoed softly, the back of her hand grazing his hard flesh. “It’s been a long time, Victor.”

  An answer to the question he hadn’t asked, and all the more reason to take things slowly. She’d tamed the feral edge of the wolf with her first hesitant smile, and it made it easy to roll onto his back. He tugged at her hand, pulling it up against his chest. “All the time in the world to get it right.”

  She sat up, kneeling over his thigh. “You won’t hurt me.”

  The fact that it was almost a question made him want to hurt someone, but he refused to bring anger to bed with them, no matter its object. “Not in a thousand years.”

  Simone released a soft breath, one he doubted she knew she’d been holding, and bent over him until her lips met his bare shoulder.

  It felt good—it felt fucking fantastic, but lying passively was its own sort of torture. He let himself thread his fingers loosely through her hair but didn’t try to guide her. Instead he channeled the need trembling inside him into words. “I’m going to spend hours touching you. So many places I want to kiss.”