Page 48 of Full Moon Frenzy

“What’s wrong—”

His eyes were locked on her face, too intense, squinting slightly as he took her in. He had to be able to smell her. In the back, Oleg lounged in the medic’s chair, playing a game on his phone, completely oblivious.

She held her breath as Trapp leaned in closer, over the console between them, ever closer, until he was able to sniff her neck. His eyes were black, blown out like a shark’s, and she whimpered again.

“Oleg, why don’t you go grab us a box from OhDoh?” Trapp’s voice was controlled, but he didn’t take his eyes off her as he called back to the troll. “Actually, why don’t you get a box for the station, too. You know the chief loves those fry cakes.”

In the passenger bay, Oleg perked up immediately. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Any requests?”

“Whatever you think sounds good. Just make sure it’s fresh. No doughnuts from the case.”

She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he passed the troll a handful of bills. She held her breath until Oleg clambered down from the rig, jumping when Trapp’s big hand landed on her wrist.

“C’mon. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Adriana realized how bad off she was when she tried to stand and immediately lost her balance, the cab spinning. Trapp caught her by the shoulders and eased her back down into her seat before exiting the ambulance. She panted as the passenger-side door opened, Trapp catching her again.

This can’t be real, she thought, allowing herself to be led to the back doors. She had to still be dreaming. There was no way he had triggered a breakthrough heat in her, despite her suppressant, no fucking way. But it was real enough when he lifted her easily into the back of the ambulance, settling her onto the stretcher. Just like a doll.

Her head lolled as she watched him rifle through the small cabinet, coming out with a vial. Adriana was wheezing by the time he had pulled a sterile, wrapped syringe from his jump bag and a rubber tourniquet to tie around her arm.

“We keep Suppresene in the rig,” he murmured, measuring a dose from the vial, tapping the side of it to ensure there were no air bubbles in the syringe.

Her mouth dropped open, fingers flexing. This was how he was helping her. Professional, courteous, respectful. Absolutely the right call; it showed that he was, indeed, the better medical professional, even after all these years. But it was not what she fucking needed from him.

“Oh. Oh, okay, I-I thought you were going to . . .”

Trapp paused, looking at her intently. She felt heat in his gaze, squeezing her thighs together. “You thought what, Adi? You thought I was going to what? Is this what you want?”

He lowered himself to the medic’s chair, just beside her. Her eyes fluttered shut, anticipating the sting of the needle, but instead, Trapp’s lips brushed the shell of her ear, sending a ripple down her spine.

“Tell me what you need from me. Do you need this? Or do you want me to fuck you through it?”

She whimpered, her voice failing, her fingers curling over his wrist. “Your knot,” she gasped, crying out when he pulled back.

“That’s a dangerous thing to beg for, smelling the way you do. But we don’t have time for that. We’ve got like twenty minutes, tops.”

She wanted to sob in frustration when he picked the vial back up, feeding the syringe into the neck. Fire was licking up her insides by now. She was able to smell his wolf, smell it jumping in eagerness, was able to smell his cock, knew he was already hard, already dripping. She knew without question that he was able to smell her cunt, her heat, and he was still pushing the fucking suppressant.

“I’m going to push two units just to take the edge off. You need to be able to get home.”

“Please.” Her voice was a ragged whisper. Tomorrow she would be horrified that she had begged him and been rebuffed. She would never be able to show her face again outside the townhouse that she wouldn’t be able to afford once she lost her job. But that was tomorrow’s problem. “Please, Trapp.”

“I said I was pushing two to get you home,” he growled into her hair. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to fuck you. That’s the least I can do, after last night.”

She hated him, Adriana reminded herself, but there was nothing in the world she wanted more than his knot just then. She wheezed as he undid the front of her pants, his huge hand down front of her panties before she could fully process the movement, but the first touch of his thick fingers to her heated flesh practically had her convulsing.

She’d always been horny the week of the moon. Once, when she’d had time for such things, before she’d been buried alive beneath the weight of her job, the constant stress, the constant anxiety that left her feeling like an unraveling sweater, one pulled thread too many. Random hook-ups usually satisfied the itch, occasionally even with co-workers here and there, cooling her blood and satisfying her lunar desire until the following week when she’d be back to normal.

That was nothing like this. This was the sort of heat she’d not experienced in years, in a decade or more, not since . . .

Trapp sank a thick finger into her, dragging through her moon-slick folds, rubbing circles against her clit, and coating his hand in her wetness. “Poor baby,” he murmured, making her arch against him.

. . . Since the last time she’d been with him, maybe. “Please,” she begged, not caring how shameless she sounded. Her insides felt braided together, the burning arousal beginning to cramp. “I need you inside me. Now!”

Trapp dropped over with a quickness that made her yelp, caging his arms around her, his face an inch from hers, their noses practically bumping.

“You are not in charge here, Doctor Brunelli. I’m not your fucking resident. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”