Wolf in the City: BBW wolf shifter romance (Shifters of the Glen Book 3)

by Skye Jones

  “Good, huh?” Jake watched me, his eyes dancing with amusement.

  “Heavenly,” I mumbled.

  “Shall I put the film on?”

  I nodded and risked another helping. This time, my eyes rolled back at the delicious taste. Not able to eat it easily, I poked the tip of my tongue out and tasted it from the spoon.

  Jake tracked the motion with hooded eyes, and the relaxed vibe disappeared as something hungry and feral invaded the tiny space. His gaze traveled from my lips to my eyes, slow and deliberate. Thick, dark lashes hid his baby blues until the last moment. Suddenly, I felt vulnerable in an entirely different way. As if a predator had me in its sights, but for some crazy, messed-up reason, I wanted to be caught. My neurotic mind kept denying his attraction to me, but I couldn’t ignore the lust in his gaze.

  Not sure what to do, I licked my lips and closed my mouth. He still looked at me with hungry eyes.

  “The film?” I motioned to the DVD case, and he blinked, breaking the spell.

  “Of course.”

  A few more spoonfuls of runny ice cream and one Hollywood musical later, I flopped back and sighed, my earlier fear mostly receded. Jake hadn’t tried anything. He’d been a perfect gentleman, in fact, and he hadn’t spent the whole film tearing it apart the way most guys did with anything they viewed as girly.

  “That was great. You’ve cheered me up.”

  “Good. I’m glad. I can come over tomorrow, if you want. Or we can go out. Not sure if you’re up to it?”

  I should tell him no. But the idea of another day cooped up inside made me want to scream. Walking hurt my jaw, but I’d take some painkillers and bear it if it meant escaping my poky flat for a while.

  “I’d love to go out for a bit.”

  “Where? You pick.”

  I considered it. “There’s a new exhibition of portraits at the National Gallery. I’d love to see it.” Christ, talking proved exhausting with the way I had to slowly enunciate each word.

  “Okay.” He stood and picked up the empty bowls, carrying them into the kitchen. “Is one in the afternoon good for you?”

  “Yes. Great.”

  “I’m heading off now. I’ve got things to do, but I have my phone.” Reaching the door, he turned to me. “Seriously. You need something, call.”

  Then he left. The moment the door clicked closed behind him, the keen lack of his presence hit me. Alone. I felt terribly alone. Strange, because normally I liked my own space.

  Darcy mewed and rubbed against my leg. “Yeah, yeah. I know you love me.”

  The dull throb in my jaw became constant, a sure sign I needed more pain relief. I yawned, winced, and decided to take some of the strong ones and try to sleep for an hour or so.

  Jake had said one, but now the minute hand ticked toward ten past. I tried not to pick at my freshly applied nail polish and instead scrolled through the Facebook feed on my phone. Maybe he’d forgotten. I should be relieved. After all, he had a serious case of boundary-overstepping-itis, and he both tempted me and put me on edge. But instead, a wave of disappointment washed over me.

  A sharp rap at the door had my heart picking up. Calm down, you idiot. Talk about acting like a teenage girl. I hadn’t been this mixed up and giddy over a guy since my monumental crush on Daniel Bilson in the fourth year. He’d arranged to meet me in town and then hadn’t turned up. When I’d confronted him about it at school, he’d laughed at me and said he’d been busy. I later heard people gossiping, saying no way would a guy like him like a girl like me. So yeah…it hadn’t ended well. Not liking the reminder of my teenage self, I forced myself to stroll to the door as if I had all day.

  “Hey there.” Jake leaned against the far wall of the landing, one leg bent and his foot on the wall behind him. Today he wore dark jeans, a tight black tee, and a different pair of expensive trainers. Those Nikes cost easily over a hundred pounds. Seemed the boy liked his clothes.

  I glanced down at my own ensemble. Loose, long skirt, comfy shoes, and a T-shirt with a cardigan wrapped around my waist in case I got cold. Sensible. Boring. A bit like me.

  The dress I’d worn the night Jake met me represented a fake version of me. A fancy-dress, let’s-pretend version. This, the boring, dull girl no one noticed, came much closer to the real deal. And I’d bet good money Jake didn’t like it.

  He flicked his eyes up and down my body. “You ready?”

  Hmm, so he hadn’t run screaming for the hills yet.

  I grabbed my bag off the hook and joined him in the hallway, locking the door behind me. We walked down the stairs side by side and hit the sunny pavement together. Wow. It was warm as hell for spring. I looked up and closed my eyes, letting the sun play over my lids, smiling at the feeling.

  Something tugged at my hair, and I snapped my head around. Jake held up my hairband with a triumphant grin.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Setting your hair free. You’ve got the most beautiful hair I’ve seen on a woman. It’s a crime to have it all scraped back the way you do.”

  “It’s comfortable.” I paused and scrutinized him. “You overstep your boundaries at times.”

  He shrugged. “I like it down.” He said it as if this fact ought to decide the matter once and for all.

  “Maybe so, but I like it up.”

  I reached for the hairband, but he stepped back out of my reach.

  “Jake! Give me my hairband.”

  “Nope.”

  “No?” Seriously?

  His lips twitched, and he shook his head. “I’m taking it hostage.”

  I pursed my lips and winced as the movement caused me some major jaw ache. Damn it, I needed to remember to keep my face still.

  “Come on. I’m parked around the corner. I’ll release the hostage to you at the end of the day.”

  Oh, so funny. I rolled my eyes at him, but he only grinned more.

  The portrait exhibition proved as interesting as expected. I loved spending my time looking at all the different painting styles. From hyperrealistic to classical, they all intrigued.

  Jake seemed to spend more time studying me than he did the art. I didn’t get what had him so interested. I did an ordinary job. I looked ordinary. Some might go so far as to say plain. I did have nice hair. My eyes weren’t bad. But the rest of me came woefully lacking in hotness factor. I was a good person, as far as I was aware. A nice person. Or at least, I tried to be. But I’d never been the life and soul. I didn’t sparkle with witty conversation and hilarious one-liners. I didn’t light up a room with my smile the way Gemma did. Or captivate men with my mysterious violet eyes, as did Laura.

  Nope. I was just me. Nice. Bland. Boring. So what the hell did a walking stack of hot, muscled testosterone such as Jake find so damn riveting?

  “You keep staring at me.” I finally ratcheted up my courage and pointed out the obvious.

  “I know.”

  No apology. No pretending he hadn’t been gawping. I found it refreshing.

  “Why?”

  “I like your face.”

  “You like my face?”

  “Yes. It’s a nice face. No—it’s not nice.”

  My heart sank a little, despite not wanting to let myself care what he thought.

  “It’s a beautiful face.”

  I laughed aloud, and people in the gallery stopped to stare at me. I flushed and stuck my hands in my skirt pockets. “I do not have a beautiful face.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I honestly don’t.” I wasn’t some beautiful but doesn’t know it, tragic heroine. Some stunning Disney Princess come to life, one who looks in the mirror and sees a troll. I didn’t hate my looks or my body. But I also knew they were common. Average. Not offensive, but not particularly pleasing either.

  “Your eyes amaze me. And I love your hair. Plus, you’ve got this whole thing going on with your mouth. Even with a broken jaw, you drive me crazy.”

  What thing with my mouth? “I’ve no idea what you’re tal
king about. My mouth is perfectly…ordinary.”

  He hustled me around a corner, and I found myself in a small alcove, empty of other people. Jake walked me backward until I hit the wall. He reached out and swiped his thumb across my lower lip. I froze, shock and lust vying for supremacy. I flicked my tongue out and tasted the slightest tang of salt where his thumb had lingered a split second before.

  “This is no ordinary mouth. I’ve dreamed about this mouth. About tasting it. Kissing it. Having those sinful lips wrapped around my cock.”

  I gasped and pushed him from me.

  What the fuck? I glanced around to make sure we were still alone. What a…filthy thing to say. Despite fuming at his crass words, other parts of me perked up at the idea. I imagined tasting him, and my mouth watered. Damn him for putting those hot images into my mind, where they’d probably live for the rest of my life. We had words for girls who behaved the way Jake did. Prick tease. Slut. Words I’d been called before, when I’d finally tried to be more confident and wear nicer clothes and some makeup.

  Some dickhead had grabbed my arse once, and when I’d dared to object, he spent five minutes hurling spittle-flecked insults at me. A girl couldn’t win. Too plain. Too hot. Too tempting. Not tempting enough. Frankly, a lot of the time, I found the whole thing tiring. As a result, I generally didn’t play the dating game.

  “You’re a…a…man tart.” I shoved past him and stalked off.

  He caught up with me seconds later, laughing as he did. “Tart? How old-fashioned. Why am I? Because I want you? Doesn’t make me a man tart. Although…” He stopped walking, and I turned to look at him. “I have been with a few females. Will this be an issue for you?”

  “Issue?”

  “Yes. Will it stop you from wanting to be with me?”

  Was he insane? Where did this all come from? “Be with you?”

  “Do you always repeat what other people say?”

  “Only when they say stupid things,” I snapped.

  “I know we can’t do anything now. With your jaw. It will hurt. But when you’re feeling better, I want you.”

  “You want me?”

  “Do you have parrot blood in you?” He smirked at me.

  I wanted to kiss it off his smugly handsome face. Bad idea.

  “What about me? Don’t I get a say in this whole business? You’ve stated you want me, which you seem to think ends the matter.”

  “I know you want me, too.” He didn’t have the decency to lower his gaze.

  Heat crawled up my neck. I decided to brazen it out and flat-out lie. “I do not.”

  “Yeah.” He leaned in close. “You do.”

  I swallowed, and my jaw throbbed. Thank God because it took me out of the fog of desire his proximity shrouded me in.

  “I. Do. Not.”

  He smiled then, slow and so damn sexy. “You’re such a little liar.” Not waiting to hear my rejoinder, he strode off back into the main exhibit room, leaving me looking at his back, more than a little breathless.

  The man infuriated me. Hot, but weird. It didn’t seem entirely normal the way he approached this situation. He had no real finesse. Then again, what did I know? From what I’d heard from friends out there on the dating scene, most men these days didn’t. One girlfriend told me about a guy who sent her a private message her first day on a dating site asking if she did anal. The age of romance seemed truly dead.

  I sighed. I wanted romance. Call me stupid and old fashioned, but I wanted my own Mr. Darcy. And not only a cat version, love him though I did. There seemed to be no mystery anymore. No getting to know someone. No wooing, to use a term my grandmother still bandied about.

  Then again, Jake said he’d wait. Yeah, stupid girl, only because your jaw is broken. Hardly the romantic gesture of the century. Still, if he waited, we could get to know one another a bit. Try some more dating type stuff before we went any further. Not that I had any plans of this becoming something deep and meaningful. Jake looked like most women’s wet dreams come to life, and he’d be off chasing his next conquest soon enough. He did seem to be genuinely attracted to me for some mad reason, but once he’d possessed me, the novelty would wear off. In the meantime, why didn’t I enjoy his company? Have some hot sex when I began to heal and simply make sure I didn’t let my heart get involved.

  The alternative would be sitting at home eating noodles and soup for the next ten days until my mum got home and Laura and Gemma returned.

  Mind made up, I went in search of Jake.

  Chapter Three

  I’d decided to pay Jake back for distracting me from my pain and keeping me company by cooking him a meal. My jaw hurt less each day. I didn’t think I’d be up to eating much still, but I made a mean Thai Chicken Noodle Soup. If I slow-cooked the chicken, it should be tender enough for me to manage. I’d rushed out to the shops earlier and bought the ingredients, along with a bottle of medium-sweet white wine, an Alsace. I’d had it before, and it went well with spicy food.

  Leaving the soup simmering, I stood in front of my wardrobe and wondered what to wear.

  I’d used up most of my sartorial greatest hits on the string of dates I’d been on with Jake.

  Those dates left me shaken and agitated every time. We got on well and almost seemed like friends, but underneath, this simmering attraction bubbled away. Sometimes it frothed over, and I’d touch his arm or lean in close. He’d say something provocative or drop an oh-so-gentle kiss on my lips that tasted of the promise of things to come. I spent the whole date aching for him…and the hours after dissecting the maelstrom of emotion he elicited in me. I barely knew him, but I’d always believed in lust at first sight. Seems I’d finally been a victim.

  Apart from my green dress and one other slinky clubbing outfit, my clothes were boring. I swooshed hangers along the rail, growing more and more frustrated, when I stopped and smiled. It hung there: bright red, a Siren’s call of sexy, silk fabric.

  A dress my mother bought me for my cousin’s wedding last year, and it fit me in all the right places and skimmed over the bits I didn’t love.

  I pulled on matching underwear, hoping tonight might be the night we took things further.

  Makeup next. I opened my tiny makeup bag and sighed.

  If only I were like Gemma and Laura. Laura, in particular, loved her face paint. She had a whole dresser cluttered with the stuff. It rivaled the MAC counter.

  I brushed on some blush, a dab of gold eyeshadow to bring out the color of my eyes, and a sweep of pink lip gloss. I smacked my lips. Finally, a coat of mascara, and I narrowed my eyes at my reflection. Yeah, I’d do.

  Panic gripped me. What the fuck was I doing? Surely, Jake would take one look at me and laugh. Who wore a silky red dress for dinner in with a friend? Whatever Jake had come to be to me, and me to him, this screamed overkill and desperation.

  His familiar loud knock came at the door. Shit. No time to change. You’ll have to brazen it out.

  When I pulled back the door, he certainly gave a reaction to my outfit. But he didn’t laugh. Instead, his eyes darkened, and he looked me up and down. He leaned in to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek, but I heard him inhale deeply as he did so. I smiled at remembering to top off my “make Cait hot” marathon with a nice spritz of Angel perfume. Such a distinctive scent and one of the few not to smell like cat pee on me.

  “You smell amazing.”

  “Thanks, it’s Angel.”

  Jake pulled back and gave me a puzzled look.

  “My perfume. It’s called Angel.”

  “I meant you smell amazing. Not your perfume, but you.”

  Unsure how to react, I stepped back and motioned for him to come in. He strolled by me, carrying some flowers and a bottle of wine. Maybe I wasn’t the only one to think…hope…something might happen tonight.

  One obstacle came in the painful form of my jaw. It still hurt like hell if I moved around too much, talked too much, or ate anything other than the softest foods. An athletic sex session didn�
��t seem a good idea.

  Jake tipped his chin toward the kitchen area and the pot gently bubbling on the stove. “Something smells good.”

  “Thai Chicken Noodle Soup. I hope you like it.”

  “You cooked it for me. I’ll like it.”

  I tried not to go all melty at his words—and failed. Blushing, I moved to the pot and lifted the lid. It needed a stir, so I turned to grab a wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer, only to find Jake right next to me. He moved in closer and wrapped his arms around me from behind, trapping me between him and the work surface. Fingers brushed my hair from my neck, and he nuzzled his lips against the supersensitive skin there. My whole body went on high alert. My skin pebbled, and my heart rate picked up. His scent wrapped around me, cocooning me as surely as his arms did, and I closed my eyes for the briefest moment and let myself enjoy the intense feeling of security his holding me elicited.

  “I love this dress.” His hands skimmed down the material until they rested on my hips, and he pulled me in closer. “This dress does things to me.”

  His hardness pressed into me, reinforcing his words. A low simmer of excitement unfurled in my stomach as his hands went lower, and he smoothed his palms down my thighs.

  “How’s your jaw?”

  “Still hurts when I move about too much or speak…or eat.” My voice came out shaky and breathless.

  His breath still ghosted over my neck, turning my legs to jelly. My hands held on to the counter edge for dear life.

  “I’ll have to be a bit imaginative, then,” he rumbled. “How long is dinner going to be?”

  “Another thirty minutes or so.” The breathy shakiness worsened.

  “Plenty of time. Come on. I’ve waited long enough, and seeing you like this…yeah. Not gonna wait any longer.”

  He tugged me after him, and he headed to my bed in the far corner of the room. I hadn’t brought a man back here before, so I hadn’t worried about the issue of getting it on in the same room I did all of my living. It seemed weird, and shyness swamped me.