Free Blazing Bedtime Stories by Rhonda Nelson, Leslie Kelly Kimberly Raye Page B

redhead who sashayed up to him and rubbed her breast against his arm as she leaned over the bar to order a drink. She leaned just so and he caught a glimpse of her nipple and…
    Nothing.
    His mouth didn’t water for a taste and his hands didn’t itch to touch and his damned cock…It was still hard, but it wasn’t budging.
    What the hell’s wrong with you? They’re all beautiful. Willing. Ready.
    It didn’t matter. He didn’t want them.
    The realization hit him and he downed his beer in several gulps. He dropped a twenty on the bar, turned and walked out. Outside, he climbed into his Jeep, gunned the engine and sped out of the parking lot.
    The cool wind rushed through the open top and windows, but it did little to cool his raging body temperature. Only one thing could do that.
    One woman.
    Shay.
    He knew that now. He hadn’t wanted to face the truth before—that he was a helluva lot more attracted to Shay Briggs than he wanted to think. That he felt more for her than just lust. That he actually liked her.
    She isn’t The One. She’s human.
    He knew that. He also knew there was a female werewolf out there somewhere, waiting for him, wanting him. She would be his perfect match. His future.
    But suddenly Matt wasn’t half as concerned about settling down with another werewolf as he was with seeing Shay Briggs again.
    And letting her see him.
    She’ll never accept you, buddy. Never.
    Maybe. Maybe not. There was only one way to find out.
    Matt floored the gas and headed for Skull Creek.

9
     
    S HAY TURNED THE FLAME DOWN on the small stock pot. Her nose wrinkled and she waved a hand to dispel the fumes. Ugh. She knew castor oil didn’t taste all that great, but she’d never realized that it smelled just as bad. At least, it did when warmed with cabbage and several other key ingredients per Matt Keller’s recipe.
    She stirred the mixture one final time before heading for the nearest window. Gripping the edge, she shoved the glass up and drank in a huge draft of fresh air.
    Closing her eyes, she relished the faint breeze on her face. The slight wind slithered over her skin and tickled the edge of her T-shirt. Awareness rippled through her and she felt the purposeful sweep of Matt’s hand up and down her back.
    Her eyes snapped open to see him standing in front of her house. He leaned against his Jeep, his arms folded, his gaze fixed on her. A dozen explicit images rushed through her head, along with a fierce jolt of desire.
    Get a grip. So what if he’s here? It doesn’t mean that he wants you as much as you want him .
    She blinked, but he didn’t disappear. Rather, he pushed away from the Jeep and started for her front door.
    She watched his swift strides, his jeans pushing and pulling in all the right places until he disappeared onto her front porch. Her mouth went dry and excitement rippled through her.
    She set the bubbling mixture aside, wiped her hands on a nearby dish towel and yanked off her apron. A quick glimpse at her reflection in the refrigerator and she stalled. She looked terrible. Her hair was wet—fresh from the shower and ready for another hair treatment—and she wore an old Miss Corn Queen 2000 T-shirt and raggedy sweats. No girdle. No body firming cream. No wrinkle-reducer foundation and blush. Nothing but eau de castor oil.
    So? It’s not like you’re trying to impress him. Sure, he might be knocking on your front door. And maybe, just maybe, he might even want sex. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to give it to him. He’s all wrong for you. You’re keeping your head and your distance, remember?
    Another whiff and her nose wrinkled.
    With the way she smelled, he would surely turn right around and head for the Quick Pick and a can of Lysol.
    Another knock sounded. She drew a deep breath, gathered her courage and hauled open the front door. “Yes?”
    “I need to show you something.”
    “If it’s another hair treatment, forget it. I’ve got enough to keep me busy for the