Shift Happens by Carrie Pulkinen
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As Sophie opened the bathroom door, a cloud of steam wafted into the bedroom. She stepped from the tile to the carpet and froze. As if the day’s ordeal wasn’t enough, there, lying on his side, his knees pulled to his chest, was not the fluffy, rust-colored dog she’d brought home. It was a tall, muscular, totally naked man.
“Ah!” She dove for the pepper spray in her nightstand drawer. Holding it in her right hand as threateningly as possible, she rocked from foot to foot, her mind scrambling to catch up with what was happening. “Who are you? What have you done with my dog?”
“Huh?” The man blinked his eyes open and glanced around, disoriented. He held his hands in front of his face and groaned. “Oh, shit.” He slid off the mattress, putting the bed between them, and rose to his feet, his hands lifted in surrender.
“Who are you?” She waved her weapon, trying to hold a fierce expression as recognition dawned in her mind. She knew exactly who this guy was. “How did you get in here? Where’s my dog?”
She tried to hold eye contact, but her gaze kept dropping against her will. He had a broad chest with a sprinkling of auburn hair that trailed down the middle of chiseled abs, leading right to his… Oh my. Even flaccid, the man was hung.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He had a deep, rumbly voice that melted as smooth as Velveeta in her ears.
“You…” She looked into the deep honey-brown of his irises, but her gaze dipped below his waist again, her eyeballs completely ignoring the command from her brain.
He chuckled and held a pillow in front of himself. “Better?”
“No, now your dick is on my pillow. I lay my head there at night, you know.” She waved her weapon again, and he laughed.
“Would you rather I put my dick somewhere else?” Mischief danced in his eyes, and she tried to ignore the flutter in her belly.
“Are you hitting on me? First you disappear on me at the club, then you stalk me at the coffee shop. You break into my house, climb into my bed buck naked while I’m in the shower, and now you’re hitting on me?”
“You’re the one waving a dildo around. Who’s hitting on whom?”
Her eyes widened as she realized she did, in fact, have the vibrator she’d affectionately named Big Blue in her hand. “Dammit.” She snatched the actual can of pepper spray from the drawer and held it toward him. “Don’t come near me. What did you do with Trace?”
“I am Trace.”
“Don’t try to be funny, mister. If you hurt that dog, I’ll…”
He arched a brow. “You know exactly what I am, so stop pretending. Where’s Jackson?”
“Pretending? You’re the delusional one, breaking into my apartment, rubbing your man bits all over my bed like a…” Her mouth fell open as the voice in the back of her head began shouting. “Like a dog.” She lowered the vibrator and the pepper spray, but kept them clutched tightly just in case. “You’re a werewolf?”
“As if you didn’t know.”
“But…you’re so small.”
He frowned and held the pillow tighter against his groin. “It’s cold in here, and you’re threatening to beat me with pepper spray and a dildo. What do you expect?”
She dropped the vibrator into the drawer. Big Blue was a lover, not a fighter.