An American Werewolf in Hoboken (6 page)

She cradled her head in her arms. Her long hair streamed around her shoulders, the dark satin strands a stark contrast to the white of the sheets. Her back rose and fell with short gasps for breath as her gaze met his over her shoulder, waiting, searching.

He tangled his hands in her black tresses, caressed her cheeks, let his fingers roam over her skin, stopping at the taper of her waist, lingering. Kissing a path along her spine, Max nipped at her flesh lightly, allowing him time to rein in his desire.

Slowly. He would make her his slowly. Her flesh pebbled as the cool breeze rustled the curtains and swept over her skin. JC lifted her hips without any encouragement, the lips of her sex glistening. He smelled the desire he’d created with his tongue. His shaft throbbed, hotter and harder than he could ever remember.

Grasping his cock, he slid it through the moisture between her thighs, teasing her clit with the head.

Her hand reached between them and rested on his, gripping his wrist. He rolled his hips, moving in and out of her wetness, slowly. She groaned when he moved closer to her passage. Max took a deep breath, steadying his need to slice through her. Bracing his hands on her ass, he pressed the head of his cock to her entrance.

JC reared up, arching her back and impaled herself on him with one swift movement of her hips. His hands tightened on her ass as he fell forward and sank into her tight warmth. She clenched his cock in response, welcoming him, pulling him inward.

Possessive hands grasped her hips, holding her still as he settled deep inside her, letting his cock swell with the sensation. Impatiently she writhed, bucking her hips, her body pleading with him to fill her. He stroked her long and deep; she in turn milked his throbbing cock as they melted into a rhythm.

The slick friction of her creamy depths roared through his veins in waves of heat. Clenching her hips tighter, he slammed into her, holding off his own release until he heard her scream with pleasure.

Her head came up off the bed as her orgasm ripped through her. Twisting the sheets in her hands, she held him tightly inside her. His breathing became shallow as a surge of white-hot electricity jolted his cock and roared through him. His orgasm soared then dipped, leaving him gasping to fill his lungs with air.

He draped his body over hers as they fell to the bed in a tangle of heaving, sweat- soaked bodies.

“Fluffy?”

A voice rudely intruded, jarring him.

“Fluffy! Wake up!” The words sliced through his brain like a knife. He moaned, refusing to open his eyes.

“Hey, buddy, open your eyes. I think you’re dreaming,” JC cooed in his ear, scratching his head to soothe him. She slipped off the bed and padded toward the bathroom while he sat up on his haunches and blinked.

Jesus Christ.

The prophecy was true. No matter the journey, no matter what it had entailed, every pack member he’d ever talked to about this crazy soul mate thing said you knew you were headed in the right direction when you dreamed of your first encounter with your prophesized mate.

Your first
sexual
encounter.

Yeah. It was time to take matters in hand before he had yet another embarrassing secret to keep.

Tomorrow, he’d call his pack mates and have them load up some of his stuff and drive it here to Hoboken. It was time to set up housekeeping—right next door to JC.

* * *

“I’ve got to get to work, Fluffy. Now listen up,” JC said as she put her coffee cup in the sink and turned to stroke his big head. “I want you to eat your breakfast like a good boy and stay off the furniture. One hair on my couch and you get to vacuum it. Oh, and if you pee in the house like you did last night, as chivalrous and awesome as it was—you die. Hear me?”

Fluffy sat quietly listening to her speak. His head tilted to the side as his tail thumped a staccato rhythm on the kitchen floor, but his gaze held hers.

She grinned at him, growing fonder by the minute. He wasn’t as ugly as he’d been yesterday. Today he was actually kind of cute—in an enormous, shedding-on-everything way. “I’m beginning to wonder if you actually understand me.”

He leaned his head into her, letting her drop a kiss on top of it and making her smile. Progress. They were making progress.

Checking to be sure his water bowl was full and he had all of his new doggy toys, she grabbed her purse and threw it over her shoulder. One last glance at his big, fuzzy face, and she reluctantly shut the door.

The thought that Fluffy would be there to greet her at the end of the day kept her motivated to move swiftly. She was feeling rather proud of herself for finally making the move to adopt a pet. After last night, it had to be a smarter choice than getting another boyfriend.

After a series of so-so relationships, she’d given up on finding “Mister Perfect.” She couldn’t even find “Mister Close Enough.” Jess was the final deciding factor in giving up completely and just letting whatever happened, happen.

Her heart was still intact after Jess, so why tempt fate? She could be perfectly happy going home to Fluffy every night. She had her friends and a decent job. She wasn’t rich, but she didn’t fight to make ends meet, either. JC smiled. Life was good in many small ways. It didn’t have to include a man, in her estimation—just a vibrator.

Popping open the door of her Prius, she threw her purse inside and set her cell in the holder on the dashboard. Her fingers scrolled her contacts until she found her friend Vivienne’s number.

Viv answered on the first ring. “Hath thou found the perfect furball of a match?” she asked, her voice instantly comforting JC.

She laughed, starting her car. “Thou hath, Ms. Hathaway. He’s adorable.”

“Ohhh, it’s a boy! I can’t wait to meet him! Describe him,” Viv demanded.

She snorted. How did you describe Fluffy? “Big.”

“Big? That’s it? I meant, what breed? Mixed?”

“The shelter said they don’t know. Though, one volunteer suggested German shepherd and maybe wolf.”

“Wolf?” she screeched into the phone. “I knew I should have gone with you.”

“It’s just speculation, Viv. Though I have to admit, he’s pretty enormous and he only slightly resembles a wolf, if you ask me,” she said, smiling when she thought about how huge Fluffy was. Big enough to fight off douches like Jess.

“Define big.”

“He outweighs your scrawny butt by at least twenty pounds.”

“He weighs more than
me
? Jesus, JC. I thought you were going to get a kitten?”

She pulled into traffic, nodding her head. “I know, I know. But I couldn’t help it. He was on death row. He was going to die if I didn’t adopt him. I couldn’t let him die, could
you
, Miss Stray Cat Collector?”

Viv’s roar was that of a lion, but her soul was as gentle as a lamb. She had six cats and counting, not including the feral cats she fed every morning and every night but still hadn’t managed to convince to become part of her brood. She owned most of the buildings on the block, including JC’s, and she believed that allowing her tenants to have pets drew renters with hearts and souls.

“Okay, okay. Fair. So what’s his name and how did he feel about Jess?”

She bristled, braking at a red light. Viv had hated Jess on sight, and she’d said as much. Jess didn’t like Viv either, but now she wondered if that wasn’t because she’d pegged his as an asshole from
Jump Street
, and he knew it. “His name is Fluffy, and why do you ask how he feels about Jess? We broke up, remember?”

“You didn’t
really
think I wouldn’t hear he was at your place last night, did you? You forget my neighbor is—”

“Mrs. Beerbohm,” they said together. The nosiest busybody on the planet. She lived on the bottom-floor apartment in the building across the street from JC’s. No one went unnoticed when Ethel Beerbohm was on neighborhood watch.

“Yep, both she and Mrs. Wiggles send their very best to you,” Viv said on a chuckle. Mrs. Wiggles was Mrs. Beerbohm’s prized pug. “So, you did tell him to take his lying ass back to the trash he cheated on you with, didn’t you? Because if you caved and fell for all that guido charm he oozes, I’ll kill you and eat your liver for dinner.”

“Could have sworn you were a heart-and-lungs kind of girl.”

“They don’t spread as well on crackers, and you know I have to watch what I pack on this ass. So, did you tell Jess to go back to Snookie?”

“I did, but he didn’t have his listening ears on. So Fluffy forced him to pay attention. I guess Fluffy sensed I was uncomfortable—he peed on Jess.”

Viv barked a laugh. “I say we keep Fluffy,” she purred. “Now tell me the truth. Are you okay? Or did Jess get to you with his apologies and bullshit?”

“Nope. I stood strong, friend, and told him to get out. But I learned something from Jess last night.”

“You learned something from him? Did he finally share his secret for how to make a spray-tan last longer than two weeks? I hated him, but he had a damn even fake tan.”

JC laughed. “No. But seeing him last night made me realize, I’ve been settling a lot in the name of having someone to watch TV with. Jess and I had zip in common, and his bedroom skills couldn’t even write a full paragraph in a ‘How To’ manual. So why did I continue to date him even when I realized he was completely wrong for me? Why didn’t I break it off long before he cheated? Why do I do that with every man I’ve ever dated, Viv? Because single can get lonely.” Even when you filled it up with friends, and family, and sexy Bates from
Downton Abbey
.

“Not when you have cats. With cats, you’re never lonely. You are, however, always out of cat litter.”

JC chuckled. “Well, now I have Fluffy. So I think, for the time being anyway, I’m going to take a break from dating. I’m tired of the wash-rinse-repeat cycle. I’m tired of the chase. It’s grown pretty old. I find a guy I like, he bullshits his way into my life, making me think he wants a serious relationship, only to find out he tossed Snookie. I’m tired of the lies they tell to get you into bed. I almost think I’d rather a man just straight-up say he wants to sleep with me and discard me. At least it would be honest.”

Viv’s warm laughter filled her small car. “That’s just not you, J. Never has been. Never will be. Me, on the other hand…”

“Either way, it’s time to reevaluate what makes for a good boyfriend.”

“Hear, hear! I’m all for a different section of the meat market. So, drinks later this week? Maybe dinner at my place? I’ll make Bolognese if you bring the wine and the dog. I want to meet the new man in your life.”

She grinned. No one cooked like Viv. “Done deal. Gotta run, I have back-to-back clients today. Talk to you later.” She clicked the phone off and made the rest of the drive in silence, thinking about her life as it stood now.

A life that made her smile. She was in a good place at this very moment.

No man required.

Chapter Five

A huge moving van was parked in her designated spot when JC pulled up in front of her apartment building. Tired from a long day filled with demanding clients who all wanted hair that made them look as if they’d stepped right out of a Pantene commercial, her anger spiked.

Son of a bitch. Parking spots were assigned, and she was ready to fight for hers when she double-parked, popped open the door and flew out of her car.

But then, the most amazing pair of buns she’d ever seen bent over in front of her, pulling her up short. Buns encased in a faded pair of blue jeans with a hole at the waistband and one smack dab in the middle of his very muscled left ass cheek. A hole big enough to see his underwear.

They were red.

Boxers or briefs?

Good gravy.

Those delicious buns were attached to a man pulling boxes from the back of the truck. JC stomped toward it and knocked on the metal interior.

“Um, excuse me, but you’re in my parking space.”

Hot Butt Dude dropped the box, muscles in his forearms flexing, the fine sprinkling of dark hair on them leading to hands with long, tapered fingers. He turned around slowly and JC’s first glimpse of him almost stopped her heart.

All that man. So much man. More man than she’d seen in a long time.
Real
man. Not a slick, fake-tanned man. Not the corporate, suit-wearing kind of man.

Man-man.

JC bit the inside of her cheek while she tried to remember how words worked. Her anger over losing her parking space had evaporated, replaced by a tight knot in her throat.

He was utterly breathtaking in a rough, very unpolished way. The angular planes of his face were hard; olive skin stretched taut over his edgy features. High cheekbones gave way to deep grooves on either side of his luscious lips and his brown eyes, flecked with amber and lined with a fringe of lashes, were bright.

The sun, just beginning to fade, flashed one more smile of brilliance on his shiny black hair, hair that fell just past his ears and over his left eye until he tucked it back.

His scrumptious lips curved into a warm grin when he stuck out his wide hand, making the thin white T-shirt he wore pull tightly against thick biceps.

As the chilly fall breeze whistled, it blew his light cologne under her nose, like spicy, freshly tumbled laundry. Awareness fizzled up and down her spine, bringing with it the reminder that she was gawking at him.

“I’m Max Adams. You must be my new neighbor if this is your parking spot.”

Max. He didn’t look like a Max. The name Max felt too tame, too little…too easygoing for a man of his size. He should be a Thor or a Vlad, something that implied immense and rugged.

She took his offered hand, relishing the way it enveloped hers. A warm tingle of pleasure threaded through her fingers and shot up her arm.

JC pulled her hand away and squared her shoulders, shaking off her initial awe. He was just a man. She pried her tongue off the roof of her mouth and smiled.
He’s your new neighbor. Be neighborly.
“Nice to meet you, Max Adams. I’m JC Jensen, and yes, this is my parking spot.”