An American Werewolf in Hoboken by Dakota Cassidy

positioning himself between her legs. He kicked off his boots before dropping to his haunches to remove her sneakers.
    When he rose again, he unzipped his jeans with slow ease, pushing them over his lean hips. JC held her breath.
    Max wasn’t about dashed expectations—he was as beautiful half-naked as he was fully dressed. The skin he revealed just beneath his T-shirt was smooth and bronzed, as though he spent a lot of time outdoors, and topped off with a line of crisp hair ending at the crest of his boxer briefs. The very red briefs she’d wondered about earlier today.
    Her fingers twitched, aching to trace the sharp outline of his hipbones, but she almost couldn’t move.
    When Max dragged his jeans and briefs down to his feet, his cock, hard and thick, sprang forward, making her hands clench into tight fists, so strong was the desire to reach between them and clasp it.
    Her brain tried to register everything that was happening, but her body was screaming at her to just let go.
    She’d never wanted to let go quite the way she wanted to now.
    Now.
    Max hiked her legs over his hips, placing his hands on either side of her body. His eyes devoured her as he leaned down, trailing his silken tongue over the outline of her mouth.
    She whimpered when another wave of wild lust raced through her, landing squarely between her thighs—he left her achy and urgent and he hadn’t taken a stitch of her clothing off yet. The raging burn he created in her made JC forget everything else but him.
    Yet, there was something they needed. She just couldn’t remember what. And whatever it was, it was important—
    “Condoms,” she managed against his mouth, never wanting his lips to leave hers again.
    Max hauled her up without a word and carried her to a stack of boxes in the corner labeled “bathroom,” his eyes scanning each until he located the one he wanted.
    Using one hand, he tore at the cardboard with such force, JC flinched in response as the contents spilled on the floor.
    His eyes shot her a look of apology before he captured her lips in another kiss while he rooted around, making her forget everything but the roar of her pulse in her ears.
    When he pulled his mouth from hers this time, it was an agony, a deep pain from a lost place within, and she found herself fighting another whimper. Max held up a foil packet, his eyes gleaming in triumph while he walked them back to the table and set her on it.
    JC was nearly frantic to feel her skin against his, but Max didn’t remove her jeans. Instead, he pressed his wide hand to her chest and pushed her to the surface of the table until she lie flat on her back.
    Hovering over her, he cupped her breasts—breasts that arched upward for his touch. When he shoved her shirt and bra out of the way to stroke them, thumb her nipples, she gasped. Still Max watched her, intense and penetrating, just before he pressed his scorching mouth to her breast and enveloped a nipple, tugging at it, bringing it to a sharp peak.
    JC’s body reacted violently, her back bowing as she gripped the sides of the table, molten fire raging between her thighs. Max nipped at the tight bud, pulling it away from her body as he rolled his tongue over it.
    She clenched her eyes and fought a scream, half-filled with frustration, half with indefinable pleasure.
    A breath escaped her lips when Max reached between them and cupped her, dragging his thumb over her cleft. She wanted him to take her clothes off, drive into her hard and fast. Her heart raced as she squirmed beneath him, straining to the touch of his lips and hands.
    On the move, he let his tongue find her exposed belly, kissing it before he worked his mouth over her lower abdomen and down between her legs. Max nipped at her through her jeans while every nerve in her body exploded, on fire with a relentless, driving heat.
    “ Now ,” he demanded, gruff and low, before he skimmed his way back up along her body, fixing his eyes on hers.
    JC didn’t have to