Her Lycan Lover by Susan Arden Page A

turf. Her staff. Sherry came up to her desk, standing next to Quinn, and peered down at the screen. “Impressive. I’ll see that he’s on track.”
    “On track. You’d better hurry. He has been booked every night for the past week, sometimes twice or three times.”
    “Whatever that cowboy brought from his hometown is in hot demand. And you’re versed in his numbers because?”
    Quinn cocked an eyebrow at her. She forced herself to stop running, and gave into her frenzied desire to lean into him. She met his tawny-colored eyes and the breath froze in her chest. His predator expression was all consuming, trapping her, and all she could do was stare back. She sensed something primitive going on between them.
    “I can read our daily profit and loss reports without tripping,” he said wryly, the corners of his lips curling. He set his cup down on her desk.
    “I didn’t mean—” she began.
    Quinn’s reflexes were lightning fast. In a flash, he was up on his feet and had positioned his hands on either side of her waist. “Damn, you try the patience of Job.”
    Pivoting her so that she rested against the edge of her desk, he stepped over her feet so that he straddled her legs. She pressed her hands on his chest, absorbing the steady beat of his heart.
    “It hasn’t been a week yet,” she whispered. He was coming for her and she wanted him to sweep her up, kiss her, own her and make her forget the reasons why she sequestered the decadent side of her nature.
    Worse, she wanted to feel his strong hands on her skin, wedging open her legs, and taking smug possession of her body the way he did everything in life. So powerful was the wild desire to have him thrusting into her body, she trembled seeing the future play out with her on top of the desk and him rocking his hips still wearing his jacket, shirt and tie. So close, so close, so close it was either lift her skirt or do the unthinkable . To open that door would spell trouble with a capital “T.”
    “It feels like an eternity.” Quinn’s fingers wrapped around her hips. “Sher, what is going on this morning between us? This isn’t sheer compulsion.”
    “I don’t know what to say.” She couldn’t put into words everything she’d felt. It might be her imagination. Lust. A bad case of sushi she’d eaten last night. That did not explain his interest… other than that he was a wolf.
    Maybe she exuded some scent. Wolves had incredible senses. Unbelievable strength in some species. His fingers dug into her hips, and lust pooled in her body, a warm glow, and hard as she tried to discount possible reasons it all boiled down to the look in Quinn’s eyes. Intense. He stole her next breath. No one had ever had this effect.
    “Then tell me to stop. Tell me this is ludicrous. Tell me I’m wrong.”
    “You are wrong. I’m wrong. But together this seems… right,” she murmured. “I mean you’re right.”
    They both were being fueled with a sensual energy too strong to resist. A wrecking ball did not have this much force. Quinn’s hands blazed hot and hotter across her skin. She opened her legs. She wanted him to touch to her, make her fantasy real, but that came with a cost. One she couldn’t afford.
    One choice and Sherry took it, her fingers worked the magical hand gestures while her tongue formed the ancient syllables without releasing a sound. “ Li-be-ra .” Her mind echoed the syllables, loud and louder.
    Quinn’s fingers were lifting her skirt, caressing the skin of her thigh, edging up the garter she wore. “Figures you’d be wearing sexy as hell—”
    In the very next instant the energy cementing the particles of her body together abated and she rapidly focused her mental acumen across the room. Only the molecules from her body were attuned to this vibration that hovered in a point tinier than the tip of pin. This type of focused conjuring took up all her concentration. Time, as most beings on Earth perceived, waffled and with ancient