Hotter After Midnight (Midnight 1)

“Yeah.” He took a sip of his own wine. Normally, he wasn’t much for wine. Give him a beer and he was a happy man. But the wine Emily had, it was pretty good. Sweet. A little tangy.

The taste reminded him of her.

And he realized it’d been more than eight hours since he’d felt her lips beneath his. Too damn long.

He shifted in his chair. He’d had a hard-on from the moment he walked through her door. Her hair was down, looking all soft and silky around her shoulders. She was wearing a thin dress with delicate little spaghetti straps. One pull, just one quick tug, and he was sure he could snap those straps.

And he’d bet a month’s pay that Emily wasn’t wearing a bra. He could see the faint outline of her ni**les. Those sweet, perfect ni**les.

He could still feel them on his tongue, still see the flushed, pink-tipped areolas.

“Uh, Colin?”

He blinked, and realized that she’d just caught him staring at her chest.

Oh, nice. Definitely the way to charm a woman like her.

Playing the gentleman…not something he could do.

He managed to drag his eyes away from the too-tempting swell of her cle**age. He found her watching him, green eyes wide and mysterious behind the lenses of her glasses.

“You said you had something else to ask me.”

“Right.” He sat down his wineglass with a soft chink. “It’s about the wolf shifters.”

She tensed. “What about them?” Her fingers toyed with the rim of her glass.

“Are they really as bad as folks say? The other shifters I’ve met, they all said to steer clear of ’em, said they’re dangerous.”

Dangerous. Yeah, that was one of the words he’d heard. A few others were psychotic, homicidal, and primitive.

Her fingers halted their stroking movements. Her eyes stared intently into his. “The wolf shifters are extremely dangerous, Colin. I can’t stress that enough. In them, the animal they carry—it fights the men and women for control.”

“Some say they’re psychotic.”

“That’s because some of them are.”

Some, not all.

Emily rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Shifters, in general, are very intense creatures. But, well, I suppose you know that, don’t you?” She offered him a small, wan smile. “Wolf shifters, though, they can take that intensity to a whole new level.

“And when a wolf finds his mate, he will do anything, and I mean anything, to protect that mate. Attacking someone else, killing a person, it would be nothing to a wolf shifter if his mate were in jeopardy.”

“But not all wolf shifters find their mates.”

“No. They don’t.” Emily leaned forward, her expression suddenly intense. “And I think that’s why the psychosis level is so high.

These creatures want mates so badly, need them so desperately, and when they lose hope of finding their other halves, well, they lose control.”

Now that was damn interesting. “You’re saying the mated wolf shifters don’t have this psychotic problem.”

“No, I don’t think they do, unless their mates are threatened.” Emily shook her head, sitting back in her chair. “Of course, this is just my opinion based on, well, instinct, I guess. It’s not like I’ve conducted a study on these guys.”

“Right.” Cause wolf shifters weren’t exactly bountiful in the population.

“But my opinion is based on conversations I’ve had with other shifters,” Emily continued, her voice serious and professional. “And I truly think it would explain a great deal about the wolf shifter psyche.”

He realized there was another question he needed to ask her. “You said you were involved with a shifter once.”

“Yes.” A faint pink flush covered her cheeks.

“But the first time we met, I got the impression you didn’t like my kind too much.” He paused, long enough to make absolutely certain she kept looking in his eyes. “Or was it just me you didn’t like?”

“I-I—” She stumbled to a stop, seemingly at a loss for words. Huh. Not the usual state for the Monster Doctor.

“Which is it, Doc? Do you have a thing against all shifters or just me?”

Her eyes hardened. “Neither.” She shrugged. “It’s true, the first time we met, I was a bit…hesitant. Shifters do have a certain reputation in the supernatural world, you know. Of all the Other, shifters are the best at subterfuge, the best at manipulation. I mean, come on, you guys live your lives hiding a damn huge part of yourselves from the rest of the population.”

“And you don’t?” He kept his voice soft. “Are you telling me that you don’t trick people too? Don’t lie? Don’t hide?” They were more alike, much more than he thought she wanted to admit.

“I never said I was perfect.” She blinked, as if startled, as she said the words.

“Neither am I.”

“No.” And there were secrets in her eyes. He could see them. “But I don’t want you to be.”

He realized then that while the doc still might not trust his kind too much, might not trust him, she wanted him. He could see the hunger she felt shining in her emerald gaze.

It was a stark, burning sexual hunger that matched his.

No, she didn’t completely trust shifters. Maybe she never would. But he didn’t really give a shit about her feelings for the rest of his kind. All that mattered was how she felt about him, and maybe, just maybe, she could come to trust him.

No more games. “I want you.” Blunt. Hard.

She swallowed. “I-I know.”

He reached for her hand. Reveled in the feel of her satiny smooth skin against his. “You want me.”

Emily nodded. Her ni**les were poking against the front of her dress, and he could smell the sweet scent of her woman’s cream in the air.

Yeah, the doc wanted him.

Now, if he could just get her to trust him.

She rose from the table, carrying her glass to the sink. His gaze dropped to her legs, the long, bare expanse of skin that he itched to touch. She was wearing a pair of small, strappy shoes. Black.

“W-why don’t we go into the den?”

He’d rather go into her bedroom, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Wasn’t that the way the old saying went? And after his nice f**kup from earlier, he was definitely still feeling like a beggar.

Colin stood slowly and followed Emily from the room. He admired the nice sway of her ass. Oh, but the doc had a nice ass. Firm.