He's gone

The meowing ringtone woke Megan, but comfortable in the bed, she didn’t bother to stir—although she did crack an eyelid to admire the flexing, tight buttocks of her lawyer/lover.

My lover.

Not quite the stupidest thing she’d done lately but, given her situation, not the brightest either.

At least her lapse in judgment resulted in a phenomenal night of sex. Apparently, Gavin’s skills weren’t just in the courtroom. The man knew how to play her body, leaving it pleasantly sore and, more surprising, hungry for more.

Indeed, just thinking about the pleasures of the previous eve had arousal stirring and her skin tingling. How rare to find a man who attracted her and on more than one level. Not only did his body attract; his mind wasn’t too bad either.

Another unexpected aspect about Gavin was her ability to sleep with him. Sleepovers weren’t her forte. Something about the vulnerability of sleep made her restless and unable to enjoy but the lightest of slumber, a habit she’d not managed to drop since she went out on her own. A lone woman never liked to be caught unaware.

For some reason, Megan relaxed her guard when around Gavin. For a three-piece-suit kind of guy, he managed to exude an aura that screamed, I can take care of myself and you!

He’d certainly taken care of her last night. She only had to stretch a little to feel the pleasant soreness of certain muscles.

The low murmur of his voice rose as he practically yelled, “What the hell are you talking about? Her place was trashed, yes, but to accuse her of torching it is nuts.”

He’s talking about me?

Straining to hear, she silently cursed as the sudden whoosh of water coming from a tap drowned his words.

That wouldn’t do. Slipping from the bed, she tiptoed to the bathroom door, not bothering to put on any clothes. She wanted to hear. Who was calling him at this ungodly early hour? And what were they talking about?

Pressing her ear against the door, she couldn’t quite make out his words but caught enough. “Fabian.” “Kill.” “Fire.”

The plot thickened, and she needed answers. But first she needed pants. Confrontation was always less effective when naked. Especially when someone kicked in a door and rushed in aiming a gun.

Good thing she’d honed her reflexes over the years. “Chubby” didn’t mean she couldn’t move.

Instinctively, she ducked, so the first shot fired went right overhead. Before the gunman could trigger a second, she lunged and hit him in the knees, tackling him. Down he went, landing with a hard thump on his back. A moment later, her bare thighs pinned his arms, her forearm was pressed against his throat, and he stared at her with wide eyes.

Occupied with the intruder under her, Megan only vaguely noted the bathroom door smashing open as Gavin rushed out. Poor guy. He probably didn’t expect to find his supposedly sweet and innocent client—and bedmate—restraining a hired killer.

A low growl rumbled from behind her. A very ungentlemanly growl. One would say even inhuman.

What the hell.

Despite the threat beneath her, Megan couldn’t help but crane to peer behind her.

Her eyes widened. Her breath was caught. Her rigid pose relaxed, and the gunman took advantage of her lapse to fling her away from him.

She hit the wall with an oomph, but the shock of impact was nothing compared to the mental one as she beheld a veritable wolfman looming over the blubbering gunman, who aimed his gun with shaking hands and pulled the trigger.

Red blossomed as the bullet hit the massive beast, but the wound, which went right through his shoulder and leaked blood, didn’t stop him. The wolfman emitted a snarl of rage while a paw tipped in claws swiped at the hired killer.

But the wolfman didn’t strike to kill. Rather, he grabbed the man by his jacket and lifted him, shaking the large fellow much like a dog with a stuffed toy. Then the wolfman tossed him, clear across the room.

The hired killer hit the wall, hard, then the floor. With a single bound, the beast reached him and picked him up again.

It was at this point that Megan came to a few realizations. One, that wolfman was Gavin. No mistaking those gorgeous blue eyes of his, and besides, given there was no human lawyer in the bathroom, or anywhere else for that matter, simple logic prevailed. Two, this was not a place for her to stay.

While Gavin played with his new squeaky toy, Megan snagged some clothes off the floor, his keys off the desk, and dashed for the door.

Stark naked, she streaked up the hall, which, to her surprise, remained quiet. Even better luck, the elevator was still at their level. As the doors slid shut, she saw through the shrinking crack wolf-Gavin emerge in the hall in all his furry splendor and glance in both directions.

His gaze caught hers at the last moment.

Through a jaw not meant for human words, the wolfman managed a gruff, “Come back.”

As if. “Like hell,” she muttered, not without a smirk.

And then the doors slid shut but not before she heard him howl.

A shiver went through her.

No wonder he called her little rabbit. The man truly was a wolf. And she’d just done the one thing prey should never do.

Run.