Free Werewolves in Love 2: Yours, Mine and Howls by Kinsey Holley Page A

away. But you heard the conversation clearly, even though you weren’t looking at them. You weren’t looking at them, were you?”
    “No. I didn’t want them to think I was listening, so…”
    “But you were listening.”
    “Yeah, but not on purpose. I mean—”
    “So you inadvertently heard two wolves having a confidential conversation clear across a restaurant.” He sat forward now, leaning on his desk and watching her closely. His expression was blandly polite, his posture tense. He smelled agitated. She reminded herself not to meet his eyes.
    “Yes.”
    “Yes what?”
    “Yes, I heard two wolves having a private conversation clear across a restaurant, and no, I wasn’t looking at them, and no, they didn’t realize I could hear them.” She blew out a long breath, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
    “That’s some damned good hearing you’ve got, Ally.”
    She didn’t open her eyes. “Yeah. It’s not that fun, actually. I hear a lot of stuff I’d rather not.”
    “Like maybe two wolves discussing your tits and ass?”
    Her eyes flew open. She tried to keep her expression as neutral as his. He wanted her to say something, so she said nothing.
    “Good night vision you’ve got too.”
    “Really?”
    “Obviously.” He flashed a beautiful, predatory smile, teeth bright white in his dark black beard. “Humans can’t maneuver in the woods at night, not without some kind of light. Yet you followed Dylan’s howls straight to Aaron. You got there almost as fast as I did. And you could tell from looking at Aaron, in the dark, that he wasn’t dead.”
    She stood up and hugged her arms across her body, jiggling a leg nervously. “Look. You’re stressed out. I feel like I’ve been awake for three days. We barely know each other and we’ve already had a screaming fight. I wanted to tell you because I thought it might be important, and I did, so I’m going to bed now. Good night.”
    She turned, walked to the door, and bumped into his forearm. He stood right behind her, one hand on the French doors to prevent her opening them.
    “I can move faster than you. That’s a relief.”
    Her face, scant millimeters from his arm, flushed hot. She couldn’t tell if the heat came from her or him. She wanted to taste the warm skin of his smooth, muscled arm.
    She didn’t often yearn to press her tongue to unfamiliar flesh.
    That heady scent of coffee, tobacco and Cade set her pulse racing and her skin tingling. His breath stirred her hair.
    She had an absurd, and absurdly powerful, urge to relax and lean back against his chest. She’d thought he was looming over her earlier, in the yard outside, but that wasn’t looming. This was looming. He made her feel small and weak, which she hadn’t felt in thirteen years. He made her feel safe and warm, which she hadn’t felt in twenty-three years.
    “Ally.” Even though they weren’t touching, she could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest. It soothed her.
    “Ally. Turn around.” His voice was softer now, like earlier on the swing.
    This was a power play. She wouldn’t submit, even though she’d love it if he touched her again.
    Which he did, kneading the back of her neck with strong, skillful fingers. She couldn’t suppress a contented purr. His touch induced contradictory sensations. It was soporific—she wanted to curl up against him and go to sleep. It was electrifying—she wanted to curl up against him and…not go to sleep.
    “What are you doing?” she asked irritably.
    She could sense his smile. “I’m massaging your neck.”
    “That’s wildly inappropriate, don’t you think? We hardly know each other. Do my shoulders too, they’re killing me.”
    He chuckled and obliged, working deeply into tense muscles.
    “Do you typically give massages to women you barely know?”
    “No. Do you typically let strange wolves rub your shoulders?”
    She smiled. “No. It’s been an odd night. I’m not really the touchy-feely