Free An American Werewolf in Hoboken by Dakota Cassidy Page B

what you mean.”
    He cupped her jaw, caressing the flesh with the rough pads of his fingers, creating a storm of fresh emotions, a new, intense fire burning low in her belly. “I mean I don’t want you for one night, JC. I want you for many nights. Maybe all in a row. Maybe more than once.”
    “More than once a week?” she squeaked, her lips sticking together.
    “Once a night ,” he growled all rumbly.
    A wave of dizzying anticipation gripped her. Maybe this was the way to go. Have an arrangement whereby both parties stated what they wanted and negotiated their needs. Lay it all out on the table from the word go. “Do you mean an arrangement? A sexual agreement?” she asked, her words hitching, her heart racing.
    “No.”
    “I’m lost.” Lost and dazzled by his magnificence, dazed by his big hands now at her waist, stroking the curve of her hip.
    “I don’t just want to make love to you. I don’t want a one-night stand, either.”
    Her brow furrowed while her breathing grew choppier. “What do you want?”
    “I want things that have nothing to do with the bedroom.”
    JC deflated from her head to her toes. Ah. Okay. Now she understood. He liked the danger of getting caught—the risk they’d be seen. Thanks, but no thanks.
    “So you’re into public sex. Like, in an airplane, a movie theater. A fetish of sorts? Maybe—”
    Max cut her off by hoisting her up and against him, hard, their bodies meeting with a collision of muscle and the sound of chairs crashing to the floor. Splaying his hand across the small of her back, he shook his head. “No fetishes. No one-night stands. No public places. I want to get to know you after I make love to you, JC. It’s important you understand that.”
    With her spine arched and her breasts crushed against Max’s rippled body, her emotions rose to the surface again. The heat, the fire in her veins, the longing. So much need it stole her breath.
    But wait. After he made love to her? She planted her hands on his chest. “Is a round of meds part of your everyday life?”
    Max’s head fell back on his shoulders when he barked a laugh. “No. No meds.”
    What kind of pick-up line was this? What kind of man not only offered to help you find your lost dog, made up flyers to post, and fed you just to get you between the sheets, then told you he wanted to get to know you?
    “Is this some kind of weird reverse psychology?”
    “Nope. It’s just important you know this isn’t a one-night thing,” he murmured against her ear.
    Her nipples tightened again, scraping against his muscled chest. The closer he pulled her in, the harder it was for her to think straight. His smell was intoxicating, and his muscled arms around her made her knees feel like softened butter. “Why is it so important?” she whispered.
    He cupped her jaw. “Because I want you to remember that what I do next doesn’t define our relationship.”
    She cleared her throat, fighting the excitement settling in her belly. “We don’t have a relationship.”
    “We will when I’m done,” Max growled before he took her lips.
    When their tongues met, her world exploded. The silken rasp, the luscious way he drove into her mouth, had her clinging to his shoulders, digging her fingers into the caps of them.
    It was magic. Pure, deep, slow, long. A kiss worthy of all kisses, driving this mad lust, this sweetly painful hunger coursing through her veins to a new, almost desperate level.
    JC’s arms went around Max’s neck, her fingers driving into his soft hair, her breaths coming in choppy pants.
    Tearing his lips from hers, Max sat her on the table, blew out the candle and shoved the pizza to the floor. Bottles of beer fell, the glass shattering on the tile. It was a vague, distant sound in her ears, dominated by the pounding of her heart and the demanding throb between her legs.
    Max’s eyes never left her face as he spread her thighs, sliding her ass to the edge of the table with rough hands and