As I removed the ladder from the side of the truck, Jay and Matteo assumed the task of explaining our plan of action and offering reassurances to the woman in the tree.
The closer I got to where they stood, the harder the blood pounded through my veins, straight to my cock.
What the fuck?
I groaned aloud and inhaled deeper. As a sweet, heavenly scent washed over me, my cock rose to full mast, attempting to point the way like a directional arrow.
“Um… Hello, ma’am, my name is Jay Cutter, I’m with the Sunkissed Key Fire Department, and we’re here to get you down.” Jay was clearly trying to affect a professional demeanor. His words were professional enough, but I could detect the amusement in his tone.
I didn’t like it.
What I liked even less, what I hated in fact, was that his voice also held a flirtatiousness.
No idea why that made my blood boil, but it did.
I elbowed through the guys, nudged Jay harder than necessary, and locked the ladder at the base of the tree. When my gaze rose to locate our victim, my breathing stopped, my scalp tingled, my vision tunneled, and my brain struggled to process what I was seeing.
I was staring at the almost fully exposed ass end of a woman in a sundress and combat boots.
And an exceedingly nice ass end it was.
She cleared her throat. “If you gentlemen would just move back a tiny bit, I’d love to hurl myself to my death right about now.” Her sultry voice washed over me and my fully alert cock leapt achingly in my pants.
My wolf danced circles beneath my skin. The fucker was clawing to get out and cozy up to this sultry-voiced woman with the perfectly rounded ass cheeks. I was daydreaming about slipping my tongue beneath the little swath of pink cotton which barely concealed the most delicious aroma on the planet.
Mate.
My hand rested on the bark, bracing me. Mate? Now? Of all the fucking luck. I’d just found my mate. Up in a tree. In the middle of Main Street.
I took another deep inhale—and she was one hundred percent human!
“Earth to Mac?” Jay came up behind me, slapping my shoulder. “I know it’s a helluva sight there, but you want to snap out of it and give us a hand? I mean, we are professionals after all.”
That’s when it hit that I wasn’t the only one with a view up my mate’s dress at her exceedingly nice ass. The thin strip of panties hid little and, as the breeze fluttered her skirt around her thighs, we were all given an eyeful.
A jolt of fury ripped through me like a thunderclap. I was suddenly fuming—red hot. Steam was probably shooting from my ears.
“Turn the fuck away! All you fucking perverts, turn around!” I snarled out the order with every ounce of power and dominance I had in my shifter body and followed it with an I-mean-business growl.
Jay, Finn, and Matteo responded instantly, which helped to restore a modicum of calm to my wolf.
Unfortunately, her scent still swirled around me. It floated on the air, wafted over me, wound its way into my nostrils, and turned me into lust-riddled, hormone-flooded, instinct-driven animal.
The other guys had turned away, sure, but that wasn’t enough. All of us except Matteo were shifters and they could fucking smell her too.
I began shoving them.
“Back up. Back the fuck up.”
Jay caught on right away, and Finn soon after. Laughing, he dragged a confused Matteo across the street with him. “Dude, you better listen. Mac’s really not kidding. He’s about to fight to the death anyone who even looks at that woman cross-eyed. If you want to make it home to your wife and kids tonight, I suggest you lower your eyes and keep your distance.”
Jay made a big production of holding his hands up and turning around with his back to me. The other guys did the same, amidst a few snorts and snickers.
I made sure the ladder was anchored before climbing up a few rungs. My heart slammed around in my chest cavity like a ping pong ball. I felt giddy—intoxicated. When I was level with her, and able to take in her appearance clearly, everything around me stilled.
As a shifter, I’d always known it was possible I would someday find a mate, and that if I did, I’d recognize her instantly as the one. Ever since I was a boy, I’d tried to imagine what my mate might look like. I could never decide if she’d be short or tall, thick or thin, dark skinned or light skinned, blonde, brunette, or redhead. I didn’t really have a type.
Or so I thought.
Looking at the woman in front of me, I now knew I most certainly did have a type—tall, willowy but not excessively thin, with hazel eyes, and short, sandy blonde hair that fluttered around her face in the gentle breeze.
That was my type—she was my type.
When she shifted on the branch slightly and wobbled backward, her eyes flew wide. Her lips parted in a sharp gasp.
I quickly snapped my arm out, locking it around her waist, and pulled her closer, tucking her into my body.
The side of her breast pressed softly against my chest. Her hip was a warm weight against my leg. My jaw clenched and my posture stiffened. The slightest adjustment of my position would press my aching erection against her hip bone.
I was a big guy, even in shifter terms, so as tall as she was, she was rather slight against me. I fought to keep myself from swinging her around, hoisting her up, and plastering her against me with her legs wrapped around my waist.
Her heart thumped wildly, but it was her little puffs of nervous breath against my neck that were nearly my undoing. I would’ve died right then and there just for a taste of her—to run my tongue over her smooth skin, trail it down between her thighs, over her silken folds…
Breathe in. Breathe out. Try not to think about tearing her clothes off and making love to her with your tongue as she writhes in ecstasy to the pinnacle of her sweet, delicious climax.
She scanned my face, stopping when she met my eyes. The scent of her arousal spiked. Ah, so I was having an effect on her as well.
One of her hands latched onto the front of my shirt. Her fingernails bit into my skin. Those wide, hazel eyes stared straight into mine.
They seemed to be searching…for something.
I swallowed down my hyped libido. I had to get my head together and get her down out of Walter before she fell and broke a bone or sprained a ligament or, god forbid, cracked her skull open.
She was fragile.
As a shifter, I could fall. I could fall all day long. I could crack my skull all over the place. Not a big deal. I’d heal.
But my mate was fragile, as were all humans—easily broken and susceptible to a myriad of diseases. I’d spent enough time as a first responder to know that.
That sobering thought cleared my head. “I want you to step down onto the ladder with me, okay?”
She inhaled sharply and shook her head. “I-I can’t. It’s not safe.”
“I’m right here. I promise you I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She shook her head again. “If I start to fall… No. I’m too heavy. I’ll take us both down.”
“Hey, look at my arm.” I flexed my bicep. Then, grinning and speaking as soothingly as possible, I raised an eyebrow in my best macho, he-man pose. “These guns aren’t just for show, you know.”
My lame attempt at humor seemed to work. She visibly relaxed some.
“I could toss you over my shoulder and carry you down, but I thought you’d be more comfortable using the ladder on your own.”