Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1] by Lorie O'Clare Page A

were done.
    Not that he cared a bit.
    But he did know her body was fragile, and he had no desire to hurt her. Slowing the momentum, he buried himself one last time, enjoying how her body convulsed when she came. Her head came forward, her eyes a beautiful shade of emerald, her cheeks flushed a deep red, and her mouth forming an adorable circle.
    She exploded over his cock, her muscles convulsing around him, milking him. He released deep inside her, holding her ass firmly in place while a growl that turned into a howl escaped him.
    Heather fell forward, collapsing in his arms, and he moved to cradle her there, enjoying the moment while his cock remained firmly locked inside her.
    “I think you just killed me,” she whispered, and then attempted a laugh.
    “I think you’re more alive now than maybe you ever have been,” he whispered back, content to hold her there for as long as possible.

Chapter Eight
     
    Heather had never been more miserable at work. It had been dawn when Marc finally dropped her off at her apartment.
    “I’ll call you later today,” he’d told her, and then had pulled her to him for a deep, intoxicating kiss.
    And that had been the last she’d seen him. The rest of the weekend, try as she would to work on her article, Marc distracted her thoughts. He consumed her dreams too. Monday morning showed up way too quickly.
    She was jittery from all the coffee she’d downed just trying to make it to lunch. And now with storms pending, it looked like she was being sent out on assignment. At least she wouldn’t be stuck at her desk trying to stay awake throughout the day.
    “I thought you might be interested in this one,” Stephen Boswell told her, stepping into the coffee room where Heather stood eagerly waiting for a fresh pot to percolate.
    His brown suit hung on him crookedly. Stephen had never been one to focus on his own appearance. He was a damn good editor though. “Some of the werewolves are meeting down at City Hall. Something about petitioning for their own school. I guess they think they’re too good for us, huh?”
    Heather glanced at the fax he held out to her. Just the mention of werewolves sent her insides into lustful turmoil. No matter that she was tired as hell, more sore than she’d ever been in her life, not to mention grumpy from no sleep—the mention of anything having remotely to do with Marc had her insides throbbing.
    Dear Lord. She must be a glutton for punishment wanting more of that wild man again so soon.
    “I’ll head down there.” Maybe information on werewolves that had nothing to do with Marc might help with her article. She needed to keep her thoughts unbiased. “Thanks.”
    She turned and walked out of the room, forgetting about her coffee. Already she wondered if she might see Marc down at the courthouse. After all, something like this might require the law to step in.
    “Hey.” Stephen tapped her arm with his stubby fingers. “You look like shit.”
    “Thanks.” She waved over her shoulder, not wanting to discuss her dark circles under her eyes. At least he couldn’t see the sore muscles that ached throughout her body. “Rough weekend.”
    She still couldn’t believe she’d had the nerve to pull that old dirt bike out from the side of the cabin Friday night. It had been years, since she was a teenager, since she’d ridden. Her ass and inner thighs had been tingling for hours after getting off of that thing.
    Heather had given up all of her tomboy antics when she’d headed off to college. If she wanted to make it as a big-shot reporter, no one could know about her small-town life, or her humble upbringing. She’d left all that behind for the city lights and the glamour, and look where it had her at the moment, too damned tired to even laugh about it.
    Things were even more out of hand when Heather and her photographer, Joey, arrived at City Hall. Large drops of rain splattered on Heather’s silk blouse, which had been the first thing she’d