She stares at me.
"This will go easier if you do as I say," I add.
Immediately, her back stiffens. "Did you just threaten me?"
"Miss-"
"Did you hurt Amber? Where is she?" She's on her feet now, voice rising to a shout. This five-foot-nothing pixie acts like she's going to challenge me. And my wolf… he thinks she's even cuter when she's mad.
"You better not have touched her, buddy," Foxfire hisses. "I told that moron Garrett, and I'm telling you. When it comes to Amber, back off."
She is challenging me. She also called my alpha a moron. She either is crazy, or suicidal.
"Miss Hines-"
"I meant it." She pokes me in the stomach, and my dominant side surges. I catch her wrist and pull her forward, turning her at the last minute so she ends up tucked against me, back to my front, my body bent over hers and nose buried in her rainbow-colored hair. I catch the scent of her: strawberry shampoo, printer ink, a bit of hippie incense, and a wild smell that hovers out of reach, familiar, but not something I can place.
She struggles but she's trapped, a slender armful curved in all the right places. My dick takes this unfortunate moment to perk up.
"Let me tell you how this is going to go, sweetheart," I whisper in her ear. "I'm going to ask the questions. You're going to give me answers. And if you're very, very good, you and your friend will be fine. Understand?"
"Let me go." She rears up, stomping her feet on mine. Since mine are encased in biker boots, and hers are bare, it probably hurts her more than it hurts me. I lift her off her feet, and almost take a heel to my dick. I shift her to the side at the last moment, and her foot bounces off my thigh.
"Help, murder! Rape!" Foxfire shrieks. I clamp my hand over her mouth, and she bites me. My wolf decides he's in love.
In the next few seconds, we're down on the floor, my hand still over her mouth, my body weight pinning her. An interesting position for doing all sorts of things, my wolf points out. My dick agrees.
I flip her so she's facing me. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and her scent's filled with fear, but her eyes spit fire.
"That's enough." I force enough dominance into my tone to cow a whole pack of wolves. "Are you going to cooperate, or do I have to tie you up?"
She makes a noise against my palm that sounds a lot like fuck you. I'm about to tell her I'd love to oblige, when the doorbell rings. The goddamn pizza is here.
Maybe this isn't going to be so easy.
Foxfire
As the doorbell echoes through my house, the big guy pinning me to the floor shifts so he's holding most of his weight instead of smooshing me into the hardwood. Which is pretty considerate of him. I appreciate that sort of consideration, even in a man who burst into my house under the false pretense of pizza.
The doorbell rings again.
"Well?" My words come out muffled under his hand. "Are you going to get that?"
He moves his hand. "Are you going to behave?"
I lick my lips, and his gaze snaps to my mouth. He moves again, and suddenly I'm very aware of his impressive manhood pressed against my foxy bits. He's a big boy. Very big.
Oh my god, are we having a moment? I stare up at him. Strong jaw, firm lips. Heavily muscled body pressed to mine.
My tongue darts out to lick my lips, and his eyes follow every move. The weapon in his pants jumps against my leg.
I try to wriggle out from under him, and his grip tightens, reminding me that he's a foot taller and a helluva lot stronger than I am. I could scream, but that might put the delivery man in jeopardy. And I'm pretty sure it would make Mr. Wrestling Champ mad. The result: bad things. For me, for the delivery man, probably for Amber. And I won't get pizza.
For some reason, I'm not afraid of him. He smells... right. When it comes to people, I tend to trust my sense of smell. As weird as that sounds, it works.
Besides, I'm Foxfire Hines. I'm not afraid of anything, except toilet snakes.
The doorbell chimes again.
"I'll behave," I say, "If you pay for the pizza. But only because I care about Amber. And I'm hungry."
"You mean it?"
"Pinky swear?" He's pinned my wrists to the floor by my head, but I still can wriggle my baby finger.
The dude studies me a moment. I smile all sweet and innocent. Trustworthy.
He sighs and rises. "No funny business." He points a warning finger at me. "I'm not here to hurt you, but if you cause trouble, I will punish you."
My foxy bits quiver. I'm not turned on, no way. My nipples tent my top because it's cold. I wrap my arms around myself, just in case.
My giant unwanted guest is at the door, exchanging bills for a white-and-red square box. Not screaming was the right call. The delivery man isn't nearly as big and tall, and hasn't hit the gym in a while. Mr. Muscles looks like he lives in one, and sleeps on a bench press machine in between reps.
"Don't forget the tip," I call.
A scowl, and my unwanted guest angles away from me. Yowza. The back is just as tight as the front.
I must have zoned out a little perving on the guy, because the next thing I know he's coming back toward me, pizza box in one hand, catching my elbow and propelling me to the couch with the other.
"Sit," he orders, and I do. As soon as my butt hits the couch, I reach for the pizza.
"Not so fast. First, we talk."
"This is cruel and unusual punishment," I blurt.
He gives me another what the hell? look, which I easily ignore. I get those a lot.
"Well, it is unusual. And cruel. I'm hungry."