Free Spirit of the Wolf by Vonna Harper Page B

little. But what about the glare, the sense that he wanted to attack her?
    “Matt?” Hoping to pull him back to reality, if he’d indeed distanced himself from it, she’d deliberately spoken his name. Hopefully patting his cheek would speed the journey. “Why haven’t the sheriff and government officials seen those? Did you think they won’t believe you?”
    He gave no indication he heard, prompting her to slide back a few more inches. “They won’t conclude you’re trying to pull a joke on them. This is much too serious for . . . You didn’t, did you?” Please let the too-big prints be a hoax.
    “No.”
    “Good.”
    He was getting to his feet. Behind him, a paw print filled her monitor. Her office was small with barely enough room for two people to be in it at the same time. Yes, that’s what she’d do, walk out of the cramped space and into the larger living room where they’d discuss . . . Hell, what could they possibly talk about?
    “Don’t.”
    She hadn’t started for the other room, but maybe he’d sensed what she had in mind because his hands shot out, clamped on to her still-unzipped jeans, and hauled her to him. Her fingers fisted, she aimed them at his chest, only to stop. She wouldn’t hit him, not yet, not until—
    “What the hell is this about?” She glared at his hold on her. “Damn it, Matt. You came to show me those pictures, not . . . What’s going on?”
    He glanced over his shoulder at the paw print. When he faced her, the lack of expression had been replaced by an intensity that made her think of a hunter stalking prey.
    Was the hunter human or animal?
    “Putting your hand next to the prints shook you, didn’t it?”
    Instead of answering, he yanked on her jeans and forced her against his hard and ready cock. She barely had time to start to lift her arms, which meant her forearms were now trapped against his chest. His right arm clamped around her waist. They were too close for her to aim a knee at his groin, something she’d never imagined ever doing.
    “I want you to let me go.” She aimed for the tone she used to get a horse’s attention. “I have students coming in a few minutes. They—”
    “The hell you do.”
    Despite his grip, she managed to free her right arm, only to wonder what good it was now over her head. She tried to grab his hair but failed.
    “I’m not lying. I do have students coming.”
    “But not for a while.”
    Had she told him about today’s schedule? How could she expect clarity as long as his powerful arms all but chained her to him? This close together, his features had blurred. She wondered if his view of her was the same, or if he cared.
    “I’m not going to fight you or try to get away,” she said, not sure she was telling the truth. “We need to talk, Matt. About the oversized prints and your reaction to . . . What’s happening isn’t normal.” She struggled. “You know it isn’t.”
    “Doesn’t matter.”
    She couldn’t remember when touching his cock hadn’t caused her heart to hammer and her temperature to raise. Right now was different from anything she’d ever experienced, a lifetime away from the man / woman relationship that had kept her in a nearly perpetual state of arousal, and yet . . .
    Damn it, and yet the woman in her was responding to the male in him.
    Hoping that reacting as she had in the past might make an impression on him, she rubbed her belly against him. Her arm was still above her head. Any other time she would have laughed and called for a strategic realignment of body parts.
    This wasn’t any other time.
    “I’m all for spontaneity,” she said. “You know I am. A quickie behind or in the barn, maybe in your truck bed—you’ve caught me off guard; that’s the problem.”
    “Be quiet.”
    This wasn’t happening, absolutely couldn’t be. “What’s going on inside you, Matt?”
    “I . . . don’t know.”
    He’d spoken so softly she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. She was far from