Read Online Werecats and Werelocks (Collection) by Dakota Cassidy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dakota Cassidy
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happened so fast, but her hormones had been out of control. There was just no stopping the call of mating.
Like you tried to stop it? Uh, yo. Wasn't that you all thrusting and heaving?
Frankie scrunched her eyes shut. Okay. Guilty. She hadn't tried to stop it, but when her hormones screamed like that, it was like a freight train. Reason gave way to her uncontrollable urges and nothing short of death could stop it.
She squinted again and looked at the man lying next to her. He had dark chestnut hair, perfectly cut, perfectly conservative. When he rolled over, she jammed a fist in her mouth to keep from screeching in mortification.
Sam. Omigod. It was Samuel Carster's bed she was in? Jesus Christ in a mini skirt. She'd slept with the guy she leased her flower shop from. The guy she'd occasionally gabbed with in the elevator when she was making a delivery to his office.
The guy she'd always thought was smokin’ hot, but had never had the guts to introduce herself to.
Why in theee hell she hadn't put that together after hearing his name escaped her. She could only claim malnutrition and sleep deprivation. And how the fuck had she missed seeing his secretary Glynice for all these months? Where did the woman hide? Didn't she say she was Sam's secretary?
Sam pulled the sheet up and looked beneath it to see her in all her naked glory. “I think we had sex,” his voice startled her. When she didn't immediately reply, he repeated his words. “Did you hear me? I think we had sex."
Hell and yeah. Rockin’ sex. With the guy who owns your flower shop. She fought a groan. “Um, yup."
"And you are?"
Wow. He was like the iceman cometh. He didn't even blink, seeing her in his bed. He gave good game. No wonder he was a lawyer. “Frankie.” Maybe he wouldn't remember her. She did work downstairs in the lobby and, really, she had little if nothing to do with his law practice other than to supply flowers to the employees there.
Something clicked in his brain and it was all over his face. “I know you. Francis Lane, right?"
In every carnal way imaginable . “In more ways than one now, and everyone just calls me Frankie.” Atta girl, you stir that pot of shit right .
"You run the flower shop in the lobby of my building."
His building being the operative word. Damn. Foiled. “That's me."
"I own the flower shop in the lobby. Along with everything else at Carsters, Weston and Felton."
Eek. “Uh-huh. You do. You own the coffee shop and the newspaper stand too.” Lots and lots of ownership here. Oh. God. She'd slept with Sam Carsters. The man whose name was on her lease.
"And you ended up in my bed how?"
"Well, I was kind of scoping the place out and all of a sudden, er ... you grabbed me and then one thing led to another and we were all ... um, you know..."
He eyeballed her with a cold glare. “Uh, yeah. I get the ‘you know’ part of this. Why did I grab you and how did you get in here to scope anything? I went to bed alone last night. That much I'm sure of."
Frankie tightened the sheet around her and gave him her best innocent look. “I don't have a clue why you grabbed me, but you did. I swear. You were really woozy afterward, though. Maybe you thought you were dreaming?"
Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Sam rolled his tongue in his cheek and cocked a dark eyebrow upward, arrogantly assessing her. “I took one of those prescription sleep aids last night. You know the ones that say you need to prepare for eight hours of sleep before taking it? I have insomnia..."
And an awesome chest ...
His jaw squared. “Forget it. You do realize you just slept with someone you don't know."
How kind of you to say it out freakin’ loud . Her lips puckered. “You did too.” So hah.
"But I wasn't aware I was sleeping with you."
That so sucked. To not remember such amazing sex was criminal. Heinous even. Fuck, what had she done? “Well, there were parts of your body that say different. You'll be happy to know all
Like you tried to stop it? Uh, yo. Wasn't that you all thrusting and heaving?
Frankie scrunched her eyes shut. Okay. Guilty. She hadn't tried to stop it, but when her hormones screamed like that, it was like a freight train. Reason gave way to her uncontrollable urges and nothing short of death could stop it.
She squinted again and looked at the man lying next to her. He had dark chestnut hair, perfectly cut, perfectly conservative. When he rolled over, she jammed a fist in her mouth to keep from screeching in mortification.
Sam. Omigod. It was Samuel Carster's bed she was in? Jesus Christ in a mini skirt. She'd slept with the guy she leased her flower shop from. The guy she'd occasionally gabbed with in the elevator when she was making a delivery to his office.
The guy she'd always thought was smokin’ hot, but had never had the guts to introduce herself to.
Why in theee hell she hadn't put that together after hearing his name escaped her. She could only claim malnutrition and sleep deprivation. And how the fuck had she missed seeing his secretary Glynice for all these months? Where did the woman hide? Didn't she say she was Sam's secretary?
Sam pulled the sheet up and looked beneath it to see her in all her naked glory. “I think we had sex,” his voice startled her. When she didn't immediately reply, he repeated his words. “Did you hear me? I think we had sex."
Hell and yeah. Rockin’ sex. With the guy who owns your flower shop. She fought a groan. “Um, yup."
"And you are?"
Wow. He was like the iceman cometh. He didn't even blink, seeing her in his bed. He gave good game. No wonder he was a lawyer. “Frankie.” Maybe he wouldn't remember her. She did work downstairs in the lobby and, really, she had little if nothing to do with his law practice other than to supply flowers to the employees there.
Something clicked in his brain and it was all over his face. “I know you. Francis Lane, right?"
In every carnal way imaginable . “In more ways than one now, and everyone just calls me Frankie.” Atta girl, you stir that pot of shit right .
"You run the flower shop in the lobby of my building."
His building being the operative word. Damn. Foiled. “That's me."
"I own the flower shop in the lobby. Along with everything else at Carsters, Weston and Felton."
Eek. “Uh-huh. You do. You own the coffee shop and the newspaper stand too.” Lots and lots of ownership here. Oh. God. She'd slept with Sam Carsters. The man whose name was on her lease.
"And you ended up in my bed how?"
"Well, I was kind of scoping the place out and all of a sudden, er ... you grabbed me and then one thing led to another and we were all ... um, you know..."
He eyeballed her with a cold glare. “Uh, yeah. I get the ‘you know’ part of this. Why did I grab you and how did you get in here to scope anything? I went to bed alone last night. That much I'm sure of."
Frankie tightened the sheet around her and gave him her best innocent look. “I don't have a clue why you grabbed me, but you did. I swear. You were really woozy afterward, though. Maybe you thought you were dreaming?"
Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Sam rolled his tongue in his cheek and cocked a dark eyebrow upward, arrogantly assessing her. “I took one of those prescription sleep aids last night. You know the ones that say you need to prepare for eight hours of sleep before taking it? I have insomnia..."
And an awesome chest ...
His jaw squared. “Forget it. You do realize you just slept with someone you don't know."
How kind of you to say it out freakin’ loud . Her lips puckered. “You did too.” So hah.
"But I wasn't aware I was sleeping with you."
That so sucked. To not remember such amazing sex was criminal. Heinous even. Fuck, what had she done? “Well, there were parts of your body that say different. You'll be happy to know all
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