A Werewolf in Manhattan by Vicki Lewis Thompson Read Free Book Online

the town car, the backs of his hands prickled and his tailbone itched.
    He’d inherited a rare genetic condition that showed up only every second or third generation. If he happened to be in human form when he was aroused with no prospect of satisfaction, his body strained to shift instead, as a kind of compensation. An orgasm could calm him immediately and stop the process, but that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.
    He should have sent Emma home in the town car by herself. He could have called Roarke to come and get him. Then again, maybe not. If Roarke had been driving his Ferrari and using the fuzz buster, he’d probably made it back to the family estate and was enjoying a recreational run through the woods by now.
    Okay, so Roarke might not have been available, but there had been other options for Aidan, like commercial limos. Still, he’d felt the need to see Emma safely home to her apartment. Once they were closed inside the backseat together, though, and his teeth ached with the need to sharpen and grow, he realized he was screwed, and not in a good way.
    Worse yet, his chauffeur must have sensed that the air was thick with unmet sexual needs. Any werewolf would be able to pick up on that. That explained why Ralph kept his eyes on the road ahead and hadn’t attempted conversation. He might have thought coupling was about to happen in the back of the town car.
    Aidan needed a distraction, and he needed it now. He glanced at Emma. “Do you have your phone with you?”
    “My phone?” She seemed startled. “Yes, I do, but I turned it off before the signing and never turned it back on. Why?”
    “Can you access your e-mail on it?” He knew damned well she could, but he wasn’t supposed to know, so he had to play the game and ask.
    “Yes, but—oh, I get it.” She unzipped her purse and pulled out her BlackBerry. “You want to see the e-mail from the creepy guy.”
    “Just to get an idea of how hard it’ll be to trace.” And to keep me from grabbing you and kissing you until you let me do whatever I want right here in the backseat of the town car.
    That was the other part of the equation. Judging from the way she’d danced with him, the slightest bit of effort on his part would make her forget all about Dougie-boy. Knowing she wanted him while he could do nothing about it made the pressure to shift even worse. The beginnings of a pelt rubbed against his silk shirt.
    “Sure. Just a sec.” She turned on the phone and waited for an Internet connection. Seconds later she handed him the phone. “Here it is.”
    He gazed at the small screen and forced himself to concentrate on the words there instead of allowing her scent to pull him into a sensual whirlpool from which there would be no escape. Once they started down that road, they wouldn’t stop until they’d wrung each other out. The dancing had told him that.
    If he’d wanted her a little less, he might chance making love to her tonight. That had been his criterion from his first sexual encounter, at the age of sixteen. He’d indulge only if he knew they could both walk away at the end of the affair. He’d been able to tell his Were lovers he would have to make a political match someday and therefore couldn’t get serious. They’d always understood that.
    For his human lovers, and he’d had a few, he’d chosen women who were too focused on their careers to think about settling down with one guy. They’d been attractive and sexy, but not a single one had affected him the way Emma did. And he hadn’t even taken her to bed yet.
    Yet. The word flashed like a neon sign in his brain. Had he actually thought such a ridiculous thing? The word yet implied that he saw taking her to bed as inevitable. He didn’t. Damn it, he didn’t.
    He could beat this attraction, no matter how strong it seemed now. Just because he wanted to rip that red dress from her body and explore every inch of her soft skin didn’t mean that he would. Just because he longed