northern boundary where the pack’s land butted up against a national park. A few teenagers who were illegally camping in a restricted area were encouraged to leave after a brief display of shifter power and strength.
And all the while Briggs had continued to irritate him. As usual.
“So, let’s see. I’ve guessed a manicure, a pedicure, shopping for new underwear, and getting your back waxed. If it isn’t any of those wonderful things, that just leaves calling on the woman from last night for a thank-you-for-saving-me booty call.”
McQuade’s hands tightened on the wheel. He knew Briggs was trying to push his buttons and normally he could let his comments slide, but to hear him speak of Rose in such a derogatory manner had him fighting the urge to actually smash his head against the window. That was the second time in six hours he’d had the uncontrollable urge to hurt the man who was his best friend.
This was not good. Not good at all.
“Rose is not the kind of woman you go to for a booty call.”
“Damn, man. ” Briggs shook his head. “Every woman is a potential booty call–sometimes it just takes a few extra drinks. If you think sweet Rosie doesn’t have the potential, tell me what was wrong with her?”
“Nothing.”
“So then why aren’t you going after that? You’ve had a long dry spell. You need to belly on up to the bar, bro.”
Mc Quade’s cock hardened as he thought of all the things he’d like to do to the innocent Rose–suck those big breasts, lick her clit until she flooded his tongue with her sweet nectar. Using the heel of his hand, he pushed his dick into a more comfortable position behind the zipper of his jeans.
Briggs saw his movement and laughed. “You’ve got one hell of a problem my man.”
McQuade had no response. This time, Briggs just might be right.
CHAPTER FOUR
The chaos Rose had walked into at the start of her shift in the emergency room finally slowed down in the early evening and she actually made it home before dark. Even so, she spent the better part of the nine block walk worrying about the lion shifter. How quickly would the rest of McQuade’s scent fade? Had the lion shifter been blowing smoke about what he was going to do to her? Surely he didn’t find her attractive. Rose knew it wasn’t that. He’d wanted to have some fun with her at the bar, probably see how much he could scare her before she went running out the front door and McQuade had interfered.
Like most males of her acquaintance, he probably hadn’t given her another thought.
As she walked up the stairs to her apartment, she felt a pinprick of awareness—as though she was being watched. Ten minutes later, she was still trying to convince herself she was letting her imagination run away with her when a knock sounded on her door, scaring the crap out of her.
Her first thought was the lion shifter had followed her home and her puny little wooden door and two dollar safety chain would be no match for the shifter’s strength. Her hand on the doorknob shook as she peered through the peephole. When she saw her sister on the other side, she let out the breath she’d been holding and opened door. Perhaps Alice had been waiting for Rose to come home, which would have explained the feeling of being watched. When she went for her weekly movie this weekend, she vowed to rent a comedy instead of a murder mystery.
“A ren’t you going to let me in?” Her sister didn’t wait for an answer or an invitation but pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“Well, come on in and make yourself at home,” Rose muttered, shutting the door.
Alice ignored the sarcasm or, she didn’t get the sarcasm. Most of the time she was so engrossed in her own little world, she didn’t realize what was going on around her.
Even though Alice was two years older, she acted like a rebel teenager most of the time. Or a spoiled princess. Rose had always tried to help her, but she was now seeing her sister in a
And all the while Briggs had continued to irritate him. As usual.
“So, let’s see. I’ve guessed a manicure, a pedicure, shopping for new underwear, and getting your back waxed. If it isn’t any of those wonderful things, that just leaves calling on the woman from last night for a thank-you-for-saving-me booty call.”
McQuade’s hands tightened on the wheel. He knew Briggs was trying to push his buttons and normally he could let his comments slide, but to hear him speak of Rose in such a derogatory manner had him fighting the urge to actually smash his head against the window. That was the second time in six hours he’d had the uncontrollable urge to hurt the man who was his best friend.
This was not good. Not good at all.
“Rose is not the kind of woman you go to for a booty call.”
“Damn, man. ” Briggs shook his head. “Every woman is a potential booty call–sometimes it just takes a few extra drinks. If you think sweet Rosie doesn’t have the potential, tell me what was wrong with her?”
“Nothing.”
“So then why aren’t you going after that? You’ve had a long dry spell. You need to belly on up to the bar, bro.”
Mc Quade’s cock hardened as he thought of all the things he’d like to do to the innocent Rose–suck those big breasts, lick her clit until she flooded his tongue with her sweet nectar. Using the heel of his hand, he pushed his dick into a more comfortable position behind the zipper of his jeans.
Briggs saw his movement and laughed. “You’ve got one hell of a problem my man.”
McQuade had no response. This time, Briggs just might be right.
CHAPTER FOUR
The chaos Rose had walked into at the start of her shift in the emergency room finally slowed down in the early evening and she actually made it home before dark. Even so, she spent the better part of the nine block walk worrying about the lion shifter. How quickly would the rest of McQuade’s scent fade? Had the lion shifter been blowing smoke about what he was going to do to her? Surely he didn’t find her attractive. Rose knew it wasn’t that. He’d wanted to have some fun with her at the bar, probably see how much he could scare her before she went running out the front door and McQuade had interfered.
Like most males of her acquaintance, he probably hadn’t given her another thought.
As she walked up the stairs to her apartment, she felt a pinprick of awareness—as though she was being watched. Ten minutes later, she was still trying to convince herself she was letting her imagination run away with her when a knock sounded on her door, scaring the crap out of her.
Her first thought was the lion shifter had followed her home and her puny little wooden door and two dollar safety chain would be no match for the shifter’s strength. Her hand on the doorknob shook as she peered through the peephole. When she saw her sister on the other side, she let out the breath she’d been holding and opened door. Perhaps Alice had been waiting for Rose to come home, which would have explained the feeling of being watched. When she went for her weekly movie this weekend, she vowed to rent a comedy instead of a murder mystery.
“A ren’t you going to let me in?” Her sister didn’t wait for an answer or an invitation but pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“Well, come on in and make yourself at home,” Rose muttered, shutting the door.
Alice ignored the sarcasm or, she didn’t get the sarcasm. Most of the time she was so engrossed in her own little world, she didn’t realize what was going on around her.
Even though Alice was two years older, she acted like a rebel teenager most of the time. Or a spoiled princess. Rose had always tried to help her, but she was now seeing her sister in a
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