Page 36 of Shifter's Dream

Troy leaned in close, kissing her hard, finding both of her hands, entwining his fingers with hers and pulling her close, conforming her to his body. The urgency in his movements and the too-sexy growls and snarls he made occasionally, told her he was as lost in the sensuality of the touch of skin on skin as she was. More so. She wanted oh so much more of his skin touching hers.

Troy must have read her mind. He spun her around, letting go of one of her hands, and using the other to direct her how he wanted her. “Holy…” she breathed, when both his hands spanned her hips again, then one of them kneaded up higher, going all the way to the nape of her neck, under her shirt, pressing her down. She arched into the sensation, until her bra popped open like it had been sliced.

That was it, she’d had enough of all the slicing. Reed flailed a little on her desk, getting her hands underneath her, remembering where she was and what she was supposed to be doing and more importantly, what she shouldneverdo, like have relations with a client. She was going to lose her license, all because she was a stupid horny bitch. Her hand hit her monitor and it upended, spilling on the floor with a crash.

A crash that echoed.

Reed froze. Troy didn’t, his big, stupid hands were still trying to mash her back against his front.

“Stop,” she hissed and he froze, too.

Reed pulled away from him, setting her clothes to rights, “Sit down, act natural,” she told him, leaping over her monitor to get to her pantyhose. She grabbed them up and reached for her pink panties on the filing cabinet.

The door opened. It was Aspen, with the big boss behind her, the doctor who had hired her.

Her hand was like an arrow to her panties.

The doctor followed the arrow to her panties, then her hair, her desk, the monitor on the floor, and finally, Troy fidgeting in his chair.

He whispered something to Aspen and her face went dark.

Reed knew exactly what that meant.

She was so fired.

22 – Fucked

Troy shot up from the chair the second the two people left the doorway. His female looked like she was going to pass out. She had her hands to her head, and her eyes heavenward.

“Oh, I am so fucked,” she said, almost whispered, but not to him.

“I’ll help,” Troy said. He stepped over the monitor on the floor, intending to comfort her but she held out her finger.

“You. No! Stop right there.”

Troy froze, watching her.

“You’ve helped plenty,” she said, inching around him, her scent spilling sarcasm and fear. She grabbed for her panties and shoved them in her purse, then ran out the door after her boss.

Troy stared after her for a long time before he moved, his emotions in turmoil, blocking what his wolf was saying to him completely. Finally, it didn’t matter anymore. He scented she was leaving the building, and hehadto follow.

Troy plowed out of the office, almost running over the receptionist, following his female’s scent, to the right, down a corridor, out a door, and into a parking lot. There she was, next to her car. Troy sprinted to reach her, having no idea what she would do or what he would say.

He slammed into the side of her car, fishing for her attention. He got it. She turned a frigid frown on him.

She spoke first, her tone icy, winter come early that year. “Good, I’m glad you came out here, it will spare me the trouble of having to hunt you down to tell you this.” She stared hard at him, then waved her hand between the two of them. “This… thing? This whatever you think is going on between the two of us? It’s over. Don’t look for me, don’t find me, and if you see me on the sidewalk, pretend you don’t know me. That’s what I’ll be doing. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

She got in her car, slammed the door, and drove off, leaving Troy standing in the empty parking spot, staring after her for a long time.

***

A patrol car rolled up next to Troy.

“Burbank,” thewolfeninside said to him, staring at him like he was a new kind of bug. “What in the hell are you doing? We got a call from the doctor’s office that a creepy guy was standing in their parking lot for the last couple hours.” He looked Troy up and down. “Muscular build. Blue shirt. Dark pants. Work boots. Hair too fucking long. That’s you, to a T.”

The officer grabbed up his radio. “I’m on scene, central, there’s nothing going on here. Someone mistaking Officer 478 for a troublemaker. I can’t imagine why. I’m clear.”

“10-4,” came the grinning reply, and a few officers clicked their mics.

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