“I don’t know how to explain it. But ever since I learned that you’d been injured there, then the skeleton was found, and the white wolf had visited you as if to see if you were all right, I’ve had this compelling urge to go there. What if the white wolf is hanging around the area?”

“If we manage to fall into the pit, he might come check us out. But I seriously doubt, as elusive as he is, that he’ll freely come to us. He didn’t even howl for help.”

“That could be because no one would know his howl. Don’t you think?”

“Could be.”

They found Meghan in the dining room, sifting through the photos. “Did you pay Jacob for his time?” Laurel asked, realizing he’d already left.

“No need. He’s gone, but he said he wished he could have found a false bottom or something to help us. He said if we have any trouble with any electrical wiring, just give him a call and he’ll be right over.”

“Thanks, Meghan. I’ll call you later if we locate anything.”

“Same here.”

Laurel hoped they’d find something in Sheridan’s effects to help them, and yet she hoped they wouldn’t if it proved he had anything to do with their aunt’s disappearance.

Chapter 19

CJ had every intention of making up to Laurel for last night and this morning after he’d burned their breakfast. He wanted to make a fresh start.

When they got to his house, he turned off the security alarm right away. Before he could even carry her bags up to the bedroom, Laurel began removing her clothes. She was only ditching her coat, gloves, and hat—winter weather gear—but the way she was doing it had him intrigued and smiling.

She dumped them on the carpeted living room floor, piece by piece, not hanging her hat or coat on the coatrack. She yanked off one snow boot and then the other as she continued on her way upstairs to the master bedroom.

He thought she might just be planning to change into her cute, fuzzy slipper boots while they ate lunch. But something about the way she was moving, her hips swaying a bit, and the way she was tossing her clothes in a flirtatious manner indicated she was being her playful self again. Only this time with sexual overtones.

Carrying her bags, he followed behind her, stopping when she paused to pull off one sock and then the other, tossing them over her shoulder in a come-hither way. One bounced off his chest, the other off his crotch, his cock already swelling with interest. “Are you leaving a trail for me?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “If you hurry, you might get something.”

He had planned to make love to her after they had something to eat and before they went to Eric’s house. But this worked even better.

When they reached the bedroom, he dumped her bags on the floor and pulled out his phone.

She yanked off her sweater and threw it at him.

Grinning, he caught it, got hold of his brother, and said, “Hey, Eric, we’ll be there a little later than we planned.”

“Gotcha.”

CJ ended the call, tossed the phone and Laurel’s sweater to the foot of the bed, and tackled his playful mate, pinning her to the mattress before he began kissing her. He loved this. She was still too dressed in her jeans and bra, but he loved her playfulness and wanted to draw out the fun. He was glad they were back to this stage in their new mating.

Her heart was beating faster, her green eyes dark and sultry, her mouth curved in a half smile as she began yanking his shirttail out of his jeans. And all that sexy she-wolf was his. His mate. His love.

The room was cool, but rubbing his body against hers, his jeans against hers, with the heat building between them, he felt like every cell was on fire. He breathed in the tangy, citrusy scent of her, the sweetness and spiciness.

Her breasts rising and falling, she breathed him in just as eagerly. Her hands fumbled with his buttons, while he rubbed against her jeans-covered mound, wanting to savor the sensation of all her softness pressed against his hardness.

Burning desire flooded every bit of him as he ached to fill her with his cock, but he took it slowly, unfastening her bra—glad it unsnapped in the front—and pulling the lace aside so he could ply her nipples with his tongue.

When he mouthed her, she groaned a little. She tried to yank his shirt off. He quickly pulled it off and tossed it aside.

She slid her hands up his chest, her touch warm and tender. She ran her palms over his nipples. He groaned a little at how sensitive they were with the silky contact.

She smiled wickedly, then wriggled her hand between them to stroke him through his jeans. Not to be outdone, he moved a little off her so he could do the same through her jeans, the fabric molding to her clit.

But with his move, she started to tackle his belt, trying to unfasten it. He rolled off her and unbuckled it. But then he realized he hadn’t even taken off his boots and let out a frustrated groan.

She laughed and removed her jeans and her bra, then got on the floor and began untying his bootlaces.

He tangled his fingers through her satiny red hair, loving the soft feel of it. She made him hot just with her fingers untying his laces, the anticipation killing him. He wanted to help, but he wanted to savor this too.

After she tugged off his boots and socks, she slid her hands up his jeans-covered thighs, a wickedly devious smile playing on her lips and in her eyes. Her thumbs stroked up his cock, already rock hard and ready for action, the erotic sensation making it throb with pent-up need. She peeled his jeans down, and he rose from the bed so she could finish pulling them off.

And again she ran her hands over his erection straining against his briefs. “Hmm,” she said and began stroking.

He quickly slipped his hand inside her panties and began to rub her sweet spot, which made her melt against him. It was time. He slipped off her panties and she did the same with his briefs, admiring his cock as it sprang forward. Smiling, he pulled her onto the bed and began to stroke her in earnest.

Enough foreplay; he was ready for the whole, sweet deal. Her mouth opened to his, their breaths mingling, before he pressed his lips against hers. Deepening the kiss, he continued to stroke her, enjoying the way she moaned at his touch, arching her back and pressing against his fingers. She was so tense, so wet and ready for him.

“Oh, CeeeJaay,” she said in a half groan, half whisper.

He pushed his cock into her wetness, deep, plunging, pulling out nearly to the end and lunging in again. Her hands ran over his arms, his waist, her body supple and soft and welcoming.

He was glad they had this time together, to love as mated wolves loved each other. They needed this. He needed this.

She jacked him up, made him crave her touch, and sent him rocketing to the ends of the earth, and then he released deep inside of her and felt his wolf half collide with the moon, his human side sizzling in the sun.

He continued to pump into her until he was spent, drained, and so happily satiated. Collapsing on top of her to give her a hot embrace, he said, “You’re everything to me.”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, kept him seated to her, and smiled up at him in a dreamy, sexy way. “Do…you think your brother will mind if we take a little longer?”

CJ smiled at her, loving her.

After a nap and another quick bout of lovemaking—they were “newlyweds,” after all—they finally dressed and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

“Okay. Do…you want me to make us lunch and you can work on the pan soaking in the cold water?” she asked, her hand on his.

“Sure, I can do that.” They shared another blissful tongue-tingling kiss, and then he began to scrub the burned crepe off the pan from the morning’s breakfast disaster.

She made them tuna sandwiches and pulled out of a jar of pickles. “I was so disappointed that we didn’t find any hidden niches in my aunt’s furniture.” She paused as she forked some pickles onto their plates. “I wonder if we could find the cabinetmaker.”