Part 20 (2/2)
An hour later, she leaned back and stared at the screen.
”Werewolves,” she murmured to herself. ”That's it.” All those people who had been murdered with a wolf or wolf-dog involved. Somebody who thought he was a werewolf was responsible for all of the murders.
She shuddered and looked at the cat. ”My G.o.d, Thuse. The serial killer is some guy who thinks he's a werewolf!”
Methuselah curled his paws under his chest and smiled a cat smile.
Once he reached the back porch, Bleddyn shucked off his muddy sweater, dropped his boots and sauntered into the kitchen. If Meredythe weren't here, he'd strip down to his skin. As it was, he'd be sure to have mud dropping from his jeans all the way to the bathroom.
He rolled his shoulders to get rid of the kinks then plodded from the kitchen to the hallway. He was cold, tired and he wanted a shower. Stopping by the open door of the den, he looked in. Keri was sleeping in front of the fire, but Meredythe was nowhere to be seen. That meant she was working on the computer-in his bedroom.
”You want more than a shower,” he muttered to himself as he climbed the stairs. ”You want Meredythe.”
When he reached the top of the steps, he paused, his werewolf-enhanced hearing immediately noting the tapping sounds coming from behind the closed door. He groaned. She was there, only a few feet away from his bed. How was he going to make it to the bathroom?
He paused before the door and leaned his forehead against it as erotic fantasies became vivid pictures. To have Meredythe wrapped in his arms, their bodies straining against each other...
Blood flooded his c.o.c.k.
Beads of sweat burst onto his forehead and rolled into his eyes. His hands trembled. Would it really matter if he waited until the moon was full? Could he make love to her now? Would it matter?
Taking a deep breath, he grasped the doork.n.o.b, pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Meredythe's head snapped up. A rosy blush covered her cheeks as her breath quickened. Her excited scent wrapped itself around him. His body tightened.
”Meredythe...”
Her voice was eager. ”Werewolves.”
Bleddyn felt as if he'd been dunked in cold water. ”What?”
His c.o.c.k went limp.
She erupted out of her chair and leaped toward him.
”Werewolves, Bleddyn. There are people who think they're werewolves! They can be anywhere, maybe even right here in Winterbourne. Can you believe it? That's the answer. I just know it is.”
Throwing her arms around his waist, she plastered her body against his and hugged him exuberantly.
Bleddyn fisted his hands.
”Here? Are you sure?”
”Well, probably not here in Winterbourne,” she answered into his chest as she squeezed him again. ”That doesn't matter. What matters is that there are people who want to be werewolves, people who think they are werewolves. Can you believe it?”
She pulled her cheek from his chest and looked up... and seemed to lose herself in the soft mist of his gaze.
Her arms were still wrapped around his waist. Bleddyn s.h.i.+fted, aligning her body with his, bringing the pressure of her hips where he most wanted it.
”And why is this important?” he murmured against her hair.
Her fingers swirled against his back. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were crushed against his bare chest. And her pelvis was flat against his. Desire returned.
”Meredythe?” He fought to keep his arms at his sides.
Her smile was soft. ”Hmm?”
”Werewolves?”
The hard pressure at the juncture of her thighs brought Meredythe back to herself. ”Oh!” She dropped her arms and stepped back. What was she doing? He was practically naked.
”I'm sorry. I was... You came in and...”
He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. ”Don't apologize, Meredythe. You can hug me any time you want.”
Heat surged up her neck to her cheeks. Struggling to regain her composure, she blurted, ”There are people who think they're werewolves.”
His lips twitched. ”I know.”
That comment diverted her attention from his naked chest. ”You do? Why didn't you tell me?”
His smile was amused. ”I didn't know you were interested. You told me you were here to interview me about my wolves. You never mentioned werewolves.”
Now she flushed for another reason. She hadn't told him about the murders. ”Yes, well, I am interested.”
He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. ”Why?”
She gnawed on her lower lip. Her heart told her he wasn't guilty. He wasn't the murderer. He couldn't be. He was too...gentle. But he did have wolves. ”Oh. I-ah- just sort of came across the information.”
Leaning back against the edge of the open door, he c.o.c.ked his head to one side and struggled to concentrate. His groin ached. If he had kissed her, she wouldn't have denied him. He could smell her arousal all the way across the room. ”Do you expect me to believe a reporter of your caliber just 'comes across' information?”
She lifted her chin and their gazes locked.
She put the computer between them. ”I was getting bored and followed a new thread.”
He smiled. ”Bored? Did you miss me?”
Her chin rose. ”How could I miss you when you were just outside? And why would I miss you to begin with?”
Grinning broadly, he answered, ”My scintillating conversation?”
She laughed outright. Hands on her hips, she said, ”I don't think I've ever met a man like you, Bleddyn Glyndwr.”
A dark fire leaped in his eyes. ”No, you haven't.”
Mesmerized by the pa.s.sion in his eyes, Meredythe s.h.i.+vered. If she didn't get out of here...
<script>