Howling at the Moon: The Complete Series (2 page)

I saw two guys walking down the street toward us from a neighboring house. I couldn’t take my eyes off them with their bare chests exposed as they stomped down the street like some muscled, shirtless soldiers.

“Those are my employees. I called them to come down from my house to give you a hand in getting your boxes inside.”

Warren was standing so close to me now that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. The smell of his musk mixed with sweat and oil. My hormones were in high gear, and he was my victim by default.

“I appreciate it. You’ve done so much already.” I smiled, trying to avoid his eyes by sliding my glasses up my face. Warren was turning into more than a landlord with every favor he did for me, and I hadn’t even been in his presence that long. Seeing the muscular men walking toward us made me wonder about this place. What were the odds that this many attractive men lived in a small town?

Maybe I was delirious. It was intensely hot and humid. It was possible I was just imagining their handsomeness and they would morph into trolls tomorrow when I was hydrated and rested. Yeah... that’s it, Jaime. None of this exists; just go on with life as usual.

I was comfortable with that excuse as I unlocked Becky. Without a word of greeting, the men went to work, lifting and moving the boxes that took me almost a full day to get into my car in mere seconds.

Warren took me on a tour through the house as the guys carried everything inside. I felt like a princess walking through my country castle as he explained everything.

“Here is the living room. I’ve had a cleaner come through and shine everything up.” I appreciated that. Everything looked spotless, as if it hadn’t been empty for months. He explained that the house had been vacant since the last tenant left in a hurry. Her loss had been my gain; Warren said he would give me a discount if I paid upfront for a year. I jumped at the opportunity, especially after he said the old tenant had left all of her furniture behind.

“Everything here is available for you to use. If you would like to paint or anything, just let me know. I’m open to making this your home.” I felt like he was trying to tell me something; like he wanted me to use his services.

“That won’t be necessary, everything looks great already.” Including him, but I didn’t say that to Warren. I simply let him lead the way walking through the dining room, kitchen, bathroom, and of course, the master bedroom.

“Not sure if you’re going to like the decorating. The last tenant completed it. I hope it all doesn’t look homely to a beautiful woman like you.”

I blushed, heat rising to my cheeks at his compliment. Maybe Warren did have a thing for curvy girls, but flattery was all I would be accepting from him.

“And I’ll have the air conditioners in tomorrow. I know it’s a little hot in here.” He fanned himself, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Good, it wasn’t just me.

“Oh, thank you,” I said, smiling. “This is fine. Everything looks great.”

There was a queen-sized bed, with a mirror attached to the dresser, and a window overlooking the backyard. This place was so serene and quiet, just what I needed to write the book.

As Warren started talking again, one of the workers walked into the room.

“Here’s the last box,” he said coming in, then he fumbled. Maybe it was a floor board, or just karma from me lusting after Warren, but he toppled over and the box went with him.

Any other box would have been fine, but this box was specifically labeled “bedroom” for an important reason. Tumbling over and busting open were sets of sheets, blankets, and of course, my vibrator collection.

One pink and one purple—the Twins, as I called them—spilled out onto the floor from the old pillowcase I had them wrapped in. Big, rubber, and flexible, the vibrators flopped to a halt on the hardwood, and Mr. Pink had the nerve to start vibrating right there in front of Warren and his employee.

I jumped down on the floor, covering them immediately and turning it off.

“I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to spill everything.”

Warren and his handsome employee acted like nothing happened as they gathered the other contents in the fallen box. I was feeling like the elephant in the room throwing the vibrators and sheets in the box in a matter of seconds and folding down the box flaps.

“Okay, well thank you for your help.” Now I wanted them to leave. The butterflies in my stomach were now fully fluttering about with their wings on high.

Warren and his employee made their way to the door with me right behind them basically forcing them outside. The two of them seeing my “personal equipment” felt like I was walking around in my underwear.

“I can look at your car later on after we sign the lease,” Warren told me.

Oh, shoot. The lease, I forgot all about that.

“Um... okay. Let me get my purse and pay you.” I was in a hurry now to excuse myself, maybe to go cry into a pillow or possibly jump off a cliff in embarrassment.

“No need. Come up to my house in a few hours. We can look at everything over dinner.” That was a good idea. All curvy girls wanted to eat. But was this a date?

“Great. That will give me time to put things away.” I smiled, holding the door. “Thanks, guys, for your help,” I said loud enough for his employees to hear me. I would have asked them their names, but I was still too embarrassed from the vibrator spill.

They both nodded at me as they walked away, but Warren was still on the porch staring at me.

“Good. I’ll see you at dinner. Keys are on the kitchen counter, and that’s my house there up the hill.” He pointed toward the house where the employees had walked from.

I smiled, but speaking wasn’t possible anymore.
Say something, Jaime,
I coaxed myself, but nothing came out. I watched him walk away, getting another glimpse of the outline of his ass through his old, paint-splattered jeans. He did some pointing at some things and shook the hands of the guys.

Slowly closing the door, I sat down on the couch waiting for my head to stop spinning and the butterflies to calm down. Dinner at Warren’s house would be interesting. If I wanted to keep this a business relationship, I was going to have to release.

A release was what I called a reliving of tension; something to take my mind off the buildup from the road. Doing that would allow me to keep my emotions in check. The only way to think clearly was not to be horny, and right then, I wasn’t able to order a pizza let alone keep my hands off that handsome man if I had the chance.

I opened a few windows and finding some towels in a suitcase. A few hours was plenty of time to release before I exploded into a raging sex monster all over Warren.

*****

T
he shower knob was turned to hot and the water was beating directly down onto me as I thought of Warren. Those big muscles covered in grease from my car filled my consciousness. I wished he could have bent me over the hood and taken me right there on the side of the highway.

You’re desperate, Jaime
, my conscience told me, and for once it was right, but at that moment, I didn’t care.

Imagining a scene with me and Warren was easy. With one of my legs propped up on the side of the tub and my back against the shower wall, I closed my eyes thinking of his gold-rimmed eyes—those radiant eyes that looked as if he could see straight through me. I rubbed my clit imagining him ripping my clothes off.

The water was one degree from scalding as I rubbed myself like I thought Warren would. I pressed my back against the shower wall, imagining it is was Warren pushing me, that he was pressing down between my thighs, heating my clit like an oven.

His raspy voice was in my ear calling my name. His muscles pressed against my chest as he held me in his brutish arms. I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to keep this mirage of this man alive. My fingers worked feverishly, but my imaginary Warren wanted more. He wanted to be inside me.

Two fingers substituted Warren as I pressed them slowly inside me. My crevice was tight, the fault of too many months of forced celibacy. But my hot fingers feeling inside took my breath away, and fingering my G-spot sent me into an orgasm.

“Warren... Warren.” I called his name as if he were there. My eyes fluttered open as the feeling of the fresh orgasm exploded across my body. My legs almost slipped from under me, and I reached for the shower curtain for something to hold onto. Luckily, I didn’t fall. How would I explain breaking my leg in a shower after I was masturbating to a man I only met today?

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. I turned off the water and tried to regain my composure, but my spasming legs, heaving chest, and the tingling euphoria weren’t going away. I had opened a Pandora’s Box in my mind. Having fake sex with Warren was just as bad as having real sex with him. Now I wanted the real thing, and mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea.

*****

W
hat does one wear to their super-hot landlord’s house? I sifted through my wardrobe, but nothing looked appropriate to wear. I damn sure couldn’t go up there with my body fresh out of the shower, my skin damp and a towel wrapped around me—or could I? I laughed at the thought as I went through the clothes strewn across my bed. Everything that was unpacked was either too tight or too hot.

I probably tried on a dozen different outfits, but nothing seemed to look right. After getting frustrated with my wardrobe choices, I opted for something that was too tight, grabbing a thin, buttoned shirt with blue jean shorts. I felt like a real country girl with those dark denim shorts on. All that was missing were a pair of cowboy boots. I didn’t own any, so I wore flip flops and twisted my hair into a bun.

I didn’t want to look too sexy or desperate around Warren. He was, after all, my landlord, and I needed to maintain some sort of decency. I wished I had a different shirt; one that wasn’t so tight and squeezing on my double Ds like a python to a mouse.

Whoever said Missouri didn’t get humid was a liar. I wasn’t that far removed from the shower, but my skin was now on fire once again, as if there was a personal heater inside me. Maybe it was my anticipation of being in Warren’s presence, but I needed to calm myself down. I reprimanded my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Jaime, this is stupid. You will not have sex with Warren. You will keep this a business relationship. You are here for another purpose, and having sex is not it.” I was stern and convincing, trying to keep myself in line. Getting wrapped up into another relationship would only muddle things.

Since leaving my ex, I had sworn off sex entirely. I wouldn’t be engaging in it again until I was married, and some other demands that I couldn’t recall at the moment. I actually wrote them down in a journal like a personal commandment list. After I made that list, it seemed like my life turned upside down, and although sex was usually the one thing that calmed me, I no longer had that as a comfort. Moving here was part of my celibacy journey, I wouldn’t have to be around anyone that would tempt me.

“Damn you for being so sexy,” I cursed, thinking of Warren as I grabbed my house keys and purse, then set off to handle the business of the lease.

Walking up the hill to Warren’s house with the sun dipping down through the trees, I could already feel the serenity of the country. No more smoke and pollution clogging up my senses. No more cell phones ringing with text messages to interrupt me.

I looked around, studying the area as I walked, but maybe I was still paranoid from driving such a long way on my own. As weird as it was, I still felt like someone was watching me.

I dismissed the feelings as I made it to Warren’s house. Ringing his doorbell, I took a deep breath.
Please be good, Jaime,
my conscience told me, but I didn’t respond. I could make no promises.

****

W
arren’s house was rustic, the epitome of a country man’s bachelor pad. The house was equipped with all the fixings, from deer antlers hanging over his fireplace to mismatched furniture pieces in the living room. The couch was a flannel red while an oversized chair across from it was a deep brown leather. I shrugged it off as he offered me a seat.

I wasn’t an interior designer, and I was going to make this my first and last time in his home. I gave him a pass on his decorating style since he didn’t get very many visitors, and men never cared about decorating as much as we women did.

“Make yourself at home. Dinner will be served in a few minutes.” He was all smiles, which was both comforting and strange. I guess that was his country hospitality, but I wasn’t used to sexy guys being this nice to me unless they wanted something.

Tonight, Warren was in a different shirt. A plain grey t-shirt, jeans, and those same scuffed-up work boots. He wasn’t a pretty boy like some of the guys in the city, but what country man was? A city boy would have never pulled over to help me with my car, and they definitely wouldn’t have gotten dirty for me.

I sat down in the leather chair. Sitting on the couch left an opportunity for Warren to sit next to me, and that wasn’t a good idea considering my horniness.

“Lemonade or iced tea?” he called out to me from the kitchen.

“Um, tea is fine.” Gosh... he was really going to serve me.

A minute or so later, he emerged from the kitchen with a tray and laid it down on the coffee table in front of me.

“Thanks.” I was amazed by all of this.

“Sorry, I don’t really have a kitchen table, so this will have to do.” That was a bachelor for you, but I didn’t care where we ate. Looking up at those eyes made me want to move our dinner to the bedroom, but I thanked him anyway.

I looked down at my food. A chicken breast, broccoli, and some wild grain rice was arranged on the plate as if we were in a nice restaurant.

“Wow, it looks amazing.” My stomach betrayed me, growling loud enough for Warren to hear.

“Go ahead and eat. I know you're starving. I’ll eat later.” He walked away into another room, and I did as I was told. Grabbing the plate, I tried not to wolf it down too fast, but I was starving.

He returned with papers that looked to be the lease. Balancing my plate, I reached into my purse and handed him a white envelope with “rent” written across the front. Our hands touched, just for a second, a spark of electricity passed from me to him. When I was close to him I felt something and I needed to make sure we didn’t touch again.