“Did you like your spanking, Amber?” His voice rumbles deep and seductive.

“No.” I want to stand up, but he’s leaning forward, rough palms on my knees, and I would have to push him away. Touching him would be dangerous.

“I think you did.” Sexy wrinkles appear in the corner of his eyes. He’s laughing at me.

“If I told someone you were a werewolf, what would you do to me?” I ask, mostly to kill the mood.

His blue eyes turn to ice chips. His hands squeeze my knees, and I wonder that I ever thought his touch sexy. My body freezes, staring down a predator.

“You don’t want to know,” he rumbles, totally serious. The threat in his eye effectively kills the sexy mood.

“All right then,” I find my voice somehow. “I don’t need to know. I won’t tell anyone, on the pain of death.” I try to say that last part like it’s a little joke, but fumble it. My stomach feels like a bottomless pit.

His big body relaxes. After a moment, so does mine.

“Good girl,” he says.

A sigh escapes me, so big it rattles my bones.

“Come here,” he murmurs, and gathers me in his arms. I stay stiff, stunned, before melting against him.

“I’m sorry if I scared you tonight,” his voice reverberates in his big chest. His hand soothes up and down my back. It feels so damn good.  

“Oh, I wasn’t scared. I normally climb down from my balcony at two in the morning.”

His chuckle warms me. “I really like you, Amber.” He stands and sets me on my feet, as if he hasn’t turned my world upside down. “I hope we have an understanding?”

“Yeah. My lips are sealed.”

“Good girl.”

Fuck. Those words.  

I raise my chin. “I’m reserving the right to sue you for assault and battery.”

He grins again. A toothy, wolfish grin that makes my pussy clench. He reaches down and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I would apologize,” he purrs, “Except I’m not sorry at all. I enjoyed seeing that gorgeous little ass of yours. And those panties—” he makes a satisfied growly sound that makes my pussy clench. “Come on, baby. It’s late and you should get some rest.” He leads me out, a hand on my back. I thought he might just close his door behind me, but he escorts me to my apartment like a gentleman. We stand in front of the door a second before I remember.

“Crap. It’s locked.”

“I’ll get it. I’m good with locks.”

He disappears back into his apartment and re-emerges with a small tool and wrench.

“You’re going to pick my lock?”

“It’s a good skill to have, not that I use it much. I’m more of a huff and puff and blow your door down kinda guy.”

A half-hysterical laugh bubbles out of my throat. “You don’t keep a master key to all the apartments? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“This is more fun. Wanna learn how? I’ll teach you if you want. It’s actually pretty easy. Come on,” he says when I hesitate. “Unless the princess is too good to get her hands dirty.”

“No,” I huff.  

“This is what happens when you hang with a bad boy,” he winks, and hands me a wrench.

He talks me through breaking and entering while slouching against the wall. “Okay, so the tension wrench goes into the bottom of the key hole. No—” His large hand  swallows mine, making me jerk.

“Easy,” he murmurs in my ear, and suddenly there’s no air to breathe. He shifts the wrench, showing me how to apply tension in the direction my key would normally turn. “Now you insert the pick at the top. Yes, that’s it. Now move the pick back and forth in the keyhole to lift each pin. Whoops—you released the wrench. You have to keep applying pressure there, because that’s what will actually open the lock. Try again.”

Let the record reflect: Picking a lock is easy. Or it would be, if I weren’t pressed up against a giant hottie. Electricity runs through my body, tiny shocks pulsing between my legs. My head swims with Garrett’s deep voice and patient instruction. He’s so gentle, yet he carried me like a war prize just a few minutes before. Carried me in and spanked me. Oh God, every time I think of it, my belly gets fluttery and pussy clenches. And even when he threatened me, I felt safe.

My shaking hands slip. “I can’t do it.”

“Sure you can. Try again. It’s easy once you have the hang of it. Slow and steady, counselor,” he murmurs as I jiggle the pick back and forth.

One by one, I release the pins and the wrench turns. “I did it!”

He grins as he opens the door for me. I try to hand the tools back to him and he waves them away. “Keep them. They might come in handy.”

“You’re my landlord. Should you be encouraging all this breaking and entering?”

“I trust you to be good.” He puts a finger under my chin and lifts my face to his. His handsome face fills my vision. “Until I make you bad.”

I can’t breathe. Is he going to kiss me?

He drops his finger. “Remember what we talked about.”

“Or else?” His closeness makes me bold. Giddy. Or maybe I’ve just lost my mind.

“Or else.” His eyes are flint, striking sparks. “You’ll be punished.”

I lick my lips. “What do I get if I’m good?”

A pause, then he crowds me against the door. Two giant hands come to cup my face, tilting it up before his lips slam down on mine.

It’s a great kiss. A bad boy kiss. A naughty girl kiss. He pins me against the door, mouth dominating mine. His knee presses between my splayed legs, his hard thigh angling against my pussy. Sparks fly in my mind, my body reigniting like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I grind down, helpless against the rising tide.

Let the record reflect: Werewolves kiss good.

At the last moment he breaks away.

“Damn,” I breathe.  

“That’s right, baby.” He angles his hips, and his erection brushes against me. “Be good, and you just might get another reward.”

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