Werewolf in Denver by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page A

caressed their skin. So beautiful. This moment would never come again, and when she relived it in the years ahead, she wanted to remember every detail.
    Duncan remembered little after experiencing a climax so outstanding that it nearly left him unconscious with the pleasure of it. When he woke up, he stretched as happily as any Were would who’d had great sex the night before. Then he sat up with a start.
    He was alone in the bed. Light spilling in the doorway from the other room, the smell of coffee brewing, and a slit of gray light showing under the bedroom window blinds told him morning had arrived, but he had no sense of what time it was. There was no clock in the room, which was logical because the Stewarts wouldn’t want to worry about the time as they frolicked in their red-draped bed.
    Guilt hit him as he realized that Kate must have gotten up to turn out the light sometime after he’d fallen asleep. He sure as hell hadn’t done it. He only hoped she hadn’t had to shove his nearly lifeless body off her in order to climb out of bed.
    Although he thought the lovemaking had gone well, he wasn’t proud of his follow-up performance. A good lover, especially when in human form, needed to stay awake after the event. He should cuddle, murmur sweet nothings, and then get up to turn out the bloody light if necessary.
    He should not become comatose, and he certainly shouldn’t become comatose while still lying on top of thepoor female whose lungs were being crushed by his weight. Duncan was very afraid he might have done exactly that. In addition, he’d probably snored like a chain saw.
    With a groan of remorse, he swung his feet to the floor, where he expected to find his clothes lying scattered about. They weren’t there. Apparently she’d tidied up after him, too. He had some apologies to make.
    “Good morning, sunshine.” Kate appeared in the doorway wearing a white bathrobe that was way too big for her. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a fetching way, and with the light behind her, she looked very much like an angel with a halo. She held a mug in both hands, and from the scent of it, she was bringing coffee.
    A rush of warmth in the area of his heart told him she’d begun carving out a place there. He was ridiculously glad to see her. Images came back to him, of Kate with the covers pulled up to her chin and a nervous light in her eyes. He smiled as he remembered how her expression had changed as he took off his clothes.
    And then…then she’d flung back the blankets to reveal a blond goddess even more stunning than he’d expected, and he’d expected quite a bit. But he’d rewarded her by going right to sleep after the sex. “Good morning, Kate. Listen, I’m sorry about—”
    “I can’t imagine what you have to be sorry about. Are you a coffee drinker or a tea drinker?”
    “Either, but coffee’s my preference.”
    “How do you like it?”
    “Delivered by a bonnie lass in a gigantic white bathrobe.”
    Although her face was in shadow, there was a smile in her voice. “Then this is your lucky day. But I meant, doyou like it black or with sugar? If you want cream, there’s only the powdered stuff, and personally I don’t think that’s worth the bother.”
    “Black will do nicely.”
    “Then here you go.” She walked over and handed him the warm mug.
    “Perfect. Thanks.” He took a sip. “Ah, that helps. By the way, do you happen to know where my clothes are?”
    “Everything except your slacks is in the dryer. I found a little stackable unit behind some folding doors in the bathroom. I’ve already run everything through the washer.”
    “I slept through all that?”
    “You were very tired. Oh, and don’t worry. I checked the label on your sweater before I threw it in, but those slacks need to be dry-cleaned.”
    “And so my slacks are where?” They might be slightly uncomfortable without his boxers, but he wanted to put something on. He’d never been a fan of walking around