by Kristin Miller
Carter Griffin, enforcing officer for the Seattle Wolf Pack, has a problem. He’s been offered the promotion of his dreams…if he can find a wife to prove he’s over his playboy ways. All werewolf dog trainer Faith Hamilton wants to do is earn enough green stuff to put her younger brother through college. Okay, okay, so she totally wants Carter, her sexy next door neighbor, to look at her as more than a friend. It’s too bad size 12 and plain isn’t his type. At all. As the two friends strike up a bargain—six months of marriage in exchange for her brother’s tuition—they must face a devious ex-girlfriend, a Yorkie with an inappropriate shoe fetish, and a burning desire to cross the line from friend to bonded mate.
This scene is taken from their wedding night, where the sexual tension is high and the stakes are even higher. While watching Star Trek on Pay-Per-View, Carter and Faith enjoy an impromptu game of Spock or Shots. (Each time Spock gives a statistic, they divulge something personal about themselves and each time Scotty is mentioned by name, they down a shot.)
Faith let the liquid courage flowing through her system have control over her mouth. Probably a bad idea, but whatever. It wasn’t like she hadn’t made a poor decision yet today. She’d eaten double the amount of Weight Watchers points that she should’ve, downed way too many swigs of the devil’s drink, and married her friend so her little brother could go to Yale.
Chocolate, tequila, and no sex guaranteed for the next few months. Oh yeah, she was mother-effing brilliant.
“When you first moved in,” she forced out, feeling tipsier by the second, “I had a crush on you.”
His eyes tracked across the bed more slowly than usual. “You did?”
“Yeah, but it didn’t last long.” Chills gathered at the base of her spine as the lie left her lips. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that would mess up our friendship.”
He stared, his hands lying still in his lap. Man, what she wouldn’t give to be able to read his mind.
“You mean something like get married,” he said, and kept his eyes trained on hers.
“We didn’t do this because we love each other. I’m helping you out and you’re helping me out. Friends help friends, don’t they?”
He nodded slowly, his gaze focusing on the television. “They do.”
Scotty beamed up two members of the ship. They thanked him. By name.
Faith and Carter took a long gulp in silence, and then before she could wrap her head around what was happening, his hand found the back of her neck, and his lips were on hers. His grip was forceful, his hands rough.
Their kiss during the wedding ceremony had surprised her. It was sweet and tender with undercurrents of heat that melted the skin over her bones. This time the kiss was intense, pure and simple. Fierce and scorching hot.
The man knew how to kiss. He was an expert, no doubt from all the women he dated and ditched.
Why am I thinking about them?
She pushed the bimbos from her mind as his tongue grazed her lips. She opened her mouth and welcomed him in. He tasted like tequila mixed with something heady and tantalizingly male. A mixture that was as dizzying as it was electrifying.
He pulled back, though his hand remained on the nape of her neck.
“Faith.” His voice was low and rough, rumbling through her ears. “Friends don’t kiss like that.”
“Let me show you what else they don’t do.”