by Anne Marsh
She watches me steadily. “Are you choosing to apologize?”
“Yeah.” I rest my forehead against hers. “I am, sweetheart.”
“You have to mean it,” she says quietly. “Otherwise, it’s just noise.”
I wink at her. “I’m really, truly sorry, baby. I’m sorry I dragged you out of the window. I’m sorry I tied you up and made you ride behind the seat in my truck. I’m sorry I stole you a pie and made you spend the night and then brought you here.”
I pause for a moment to run over my mental list of my misdeeds. Maybe all those Catholics are onto something. I feel better already and I’m only halfway through my confession. I plow on.
“I’m not sorry I kissed you. Or put a bow on your ass. Or spanked the monkey while you were in my shower.”
Okay, so that’s more an un-apology, even if it is true.
Jace mutters a particularly foul curse.
Rain crosses her arms over her chest. Since we’re practically tits to chest, her skin brushes against me. And even though I don’t need to be waving a boner around in front of my packmates, I wish I were naked so I could feel everything.
“Are you for real?”
“How about I kiss it better?”
I drop to my knees like she asked. Turns out that apologizing is fun and I try to make it dirty—after all, my mouth’s on a level with her pussy so I’m all for kiss and make it better. I’m more linebacker than ballet dancer, so my shoulders need all the room between her thighs. I smooth my hands up her calves, cup her knees, and press as gentle as I can. She opens up, making space for me. I fit here.
Huh. Pretty sure that’s another one of those feeling things. It’s kind of like spotting a water moccasin right where you were about to set your paw. I jerk back and talk faster.
“I’m sorry I lied when I made the appointment at your clinic. And that I dragged you out the window and then made you ride on the floor of my truck, even if you did look cute all tied up.”
Pretty sure that’s Ware’s groan I hear.
I rest my head on her knee and turn my face so my cheek’s rubbing against the soft cotton covering her thigh. “Pretty please forgive me?”
I bat my eyelashes at her.
“Fang.” That’s all she says for a long moment. Just my name. Her fingers sort of flutter-stroke over my hair as if she’s not quite sure where to put them. I’m aware of Jace tensing at the end of the bar. He’s close enough that he could take me out with one well-placed kick from his boot. Huh. His boots are dusty and streaked with fresh mud. He’s been out in the bayou. It must have been on club business, but he didn’t invite me. He doesn’t trust me. He says he can’t.
Fucker apparently meant it.
I shove the unwanted feeling thing down with all the other emotional rejects I’m keeping a lid on and press my mouth against the soft skin above her knee. I can smell her. She’d be embarrassed if she knew but I am who I am and her scent is glorious. My wolf whines, demanding we claim her. For just a minute, her fingers thread through my hair, her nails pricking my scalp. An epic boner threatens to punch through the front of my jeans. She’s… I’m…
“Give me the words.” She tugs gently on my hair.
I lean forward, bracing my arms on either side of her hips. My mouth’s inches from her sweet, scrub-covered pussy—the perfect position for apologizing.
“Goddamn it.” Jace lands heavily beside me, his hand yanking at my shoulder. I shake him off.
Mine.
“Give us a moment,” Rain snaps. At my Alpha.
The clubhouse has never been so silent. Fucking shockwaves almost knock the walls down. No one gives Jace orders, not in public. Not in front of his pack. He has to be top dog, the man in charge. No matter what he and Keelie Sue do in private, in public she’s his old lady and his mate. He respects the fuck out of her, but she doesn’t give him any lip or disagree with him in front of others.
Rain clearly didn’t get that memo.
Jace tenses, but then gives a bark of strained laughter. “You’re as crazy as him.”
Rain shrugs. “He’s mine. My problem. Not yours.”
She’s not a wolf. She doesn’t know but those words mean everything to me. There’s a brief pause punctuated by the heavy thud of booted feet filing out of the room and then the even louder slam of the door closing. We’re alone.
And I look up at her.
And tell her the truth.
“I’m sorry for fucking up your life.”
I press my forearms against her thighs, resting my thumbs against the soft inner curve. If I cupped my fingers just a little, I could make one of those stupid hearts people post on Instagram.
“Are you?”
I stroke my thumbs up a little. “Well, maybe not spending the night with you, or getting you in my bed, but for not thinking shit through. You probably had plans for today, but I like this. Having you here for Keelie Sue.”
“And it’s all about Keelie Sue?” She eases my hands off her legs and gives my shoulders a gentle shove. Her cheeks are pink.
“It was.” I rock back on my heels, hand on my own thighs. I don’t feel anywhere near as good as Rain does.
Rain slides off the barstool. “And now?”
“I like this.” I get to my feet. This is weird. I’m not used to not knowing the next line in the script. No matter how sweet her scent, I don’t think Rain wants to have sex with me. Her expression is reserved, thoughtful—and I’m not sure she’s thinking about me or how good we’d be together. I have to up my game.
She brushes past me. “Do you kidnap everyone you like?”
I liked Keelie Sue and I certainly tried to force the issue there, figuring that a little proximity to me and my good lucks would work wonders. So… maybe? Admittedly, my relationship skills are seriously fucked up.
So I shrug and tell the truth for the second time today. “You were my last.”
Rain nods briskly and heads for the door. I guess I’ve given her what she wants, which is just strange. Usually my apologies are all skin deep. Literally. I give great apology and the girl I’m making up to comes shrieking my name. It’s always worked before, but no one’s naked and there’s definitely no orgasms happening right now.
Instead, Rain’s clearly hellbent on leaving. Okay. I follow, grabbing the door for her. She sails through, barely acknowledging my helpful wrangling of heavy shit on her behalf. She pauses all of a second in the parking lot and then heads straight for my truck. I wonder if she realizes that she’s counting on me for something, even if it’s just a ride. Part of her, way deep down and probably buried under a million feet of subconscious shit, believes I’ll do the right thing. Otherwise, why would she risk getting back into my truck? Not like my track record is good.
So I take a chance. “Are we cool?”
She turns around, hand on the door. “I understand your concern for Keelie Sue, but no more kidnapping, okay? Felonies are off-limits. If you want something, ask.”
“Gotcha,” I say with mock gravity. I brace an arm over her head. The metal’s hot from the sun, practically searing the skin from me. Good. I deserve to hurt. I don’t press my hips and my dick into her, but I’m close enough to feel the heat of her body, to smell her skin.
“There’s a heart in here,” she reaches up and pats my chest, and I want to drop to my knees again for a whole different reason. Not going there.
“Tell me how to make my bad behavior up to you.”
Wolves are brutal. Hurt us, and we hurt you back twofold. I know without asking that Rain won’t hit me. That’s not how she rolls. But there has to be something I can do for her.
She hesitates. Her forehead crinkles and she puffs out a breath of air. She might as well tell me whatever it is she’s thinking because I can out-stubborn anyone I know. I’ll get it from her eventually.
I lean in a little closer, biting back a groan as my thighs brush hers. We’re like a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces fit easy. “It’s yours.”
&
nbsp; “You don’t even know what I was going to ask!” she protests.
Doesn’t matter. “I owe you.”
Her face falls, so that’s the wrong answer.
I try again. “And I’d like to make you happy, sunshine.”
She nods, but I suspect she’s having a conversation with herself. “You sent a naked selfie to my ex.”
“You can keep it. Add it to your spank bank.” I wink at her and smooth the fingers of my free hand over her waist. I’m a guy. Of course I get hard at the thought of her jilling to my picture.
“Your ego is the size of Antarctica.”
“I’m truthful.”
“He hated your picture.” She sounds as satisfied as if the Orgasm Fairy had made multiple visits. And while I’m glad she’s pleased with something I’ve done, I’d rather that something was the direct results of my fingers or my tongue or my magic dick.
“I want you to do it again,” she continues. “I want you to drive him absolutely nuts. It’s not mature but fuck that noise. He decided he didn’t want me, and now he’s changed his mind. He needs to know that other people like me and that I deserve better than his shit. He’s a drunk and a cheater and I’m going to be fine without him in my life.”
I’m a wolf, not a psychologist, but even I can interpret her rambling. Dickish Dave the Ex clearly unloaded a few personal opinions before he waltzed out Rain’s door. She’s not feeling sexy or beautiful or powerful—and she’s decided to change that. Or maybe just rub his face in what he passed on. There are lots of other ways to accomplish this, but who am I to judge her? If she wants her ex to wallow in remorse, I’ll drown him in that shit—and then kick his ass.
“You can take all the naked pictures of me that you want.”
Her fingers curl in the front of my shirt. “I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”
The fuck?
Rain being Rain, she doesn’t give me a chance to say anything. Nope. She’s off, listing rules and conditions. “I need to borrow you for a month. That should be long enough. But that means you don’t see anyone else. We’ll be exclusive. It won’t look good if you’re manwhoring around and we’re supposed to be seeing each other.”
“You’re asking me out.” Maybe Jace did kick me in the head and I’m suffering from some sort of traumatic brain injury.
“I’m asking you to be my fake boyfriend.” Rain stabs a finger into my chest. “You owe me, so you should agree.”
“I could be your boyfriend for real,” I say casually.
Rain laughs. It’s not a mean laugh, but more like I’ve said something so ridiculous that she can’t hold it in. I think she agrees with me. She pats me on the shoulder. “I’m not interested in a well-used dick.”
Okay so I probably didn’t make that offer as casually as I could. What the fuck am I thinking? I’m the quick, awesome lay that spoils you for regular sex. I’m a god between the sheets, but the one thing I’m not is real or forever or boyfriend material. That requires the kind of commitment I can’t make.
I make a strategic retreat, tickling her side until she giggle-snorts again, slapping at my fingers. And not until she’s breathless, leaning into me, I say, “That’s practice, sweetheart. I’m very, very good at what I do.”
She looks a little dazed but then she snaps out of it. Too bad. “Pass.”
I’m a little… something about that. It can’t be disappointment. There’s plenty of pussy out there, and if one dish is off the menu, I’ll just choose something else when my month is up. I’m easy like that. If Rain wants fake, I’ll give her fake. It’s not like I’d know how to be the real deal anyhow. And it doesn’t niggle at all that she’s completely indifferent to the sexual marvel that is my dick.
I settle my mouth by her ear and nip lightly. “Deal. I’ll be as pretend as you want.”
I give her a little lick and my wolf whines silently. She tastes good. I want her naked. Under me. Up against the truck, bent over the seat, ass up, and… Well, there aren’t too many ways I don’t want her and my dick snaps to attention. Not that Rain seems to notice.
“Okay.” She just looks thoughtful, as if she’s a million miles away and not caged in my arms looking like a dream come true. “Can you start right away?”
I’m the world’s best fake boyfriend.
I wink at her. “You bet.”
“Awesome.” She inches up on tiptoe, looking over my shoulder as if she thinks Dick Ex could be hiding behind one of the prospects’ bikes. There’s an awkward pause. I’m not sure she’s thought this through. She turns around, groping for the door handle. Because I’m so close to her, this means her ass wiggles against my crotch while she wrestles with the door. It also means I’m in no rush to help her out because this is better than all of my fantasies.
I flatten my palm against the door, holding it closed. “We should practice.”
She giggle-snorts again. That’s the cutest fucking sound ever—and since her happiness deserves a reward, I lean down and give her a quick but thorough kiss.
Just in case anyone’s watching.
Not because I want to.
More than anything I’ve ever wanted.
If I’d been the one creating the fake boyfriend plan, I’d certainly have added naked to the top of the list. Me naked. Rain naked. Playing naked slip-and-slide on her office furniture, naked in the back of my truck, stripped down at my favorite look-out, and definitely naked in a really big bed. It would’ve been awesome. Of course, then it wouldn’t have been fake either. It occurs to me that I don’t know where Rain lives or what her bedroom looks like. After we left the clubhouse yesterday, she had me drop her off at the clinic and then she waited until I rode off before she left. My wolf thought we should follow her home to make sure she got there safe, but my human knew that was a bad idea. And since she was trusting me to do what she asked, I did.
So the day after we agree to go all out, pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend, I’m once again standing in the parking lot of her work. I’m holding two large bags of take out. Given Rain’s reaction to my culinary endeavors the night before, this means I’m holding nothing that used to have a face—just pounds and pounds of vegetable crap. Since wolves and meat are like peanut butter and chocolate, a fucking match made in heaven, I’ve also taken a few minutes to pre-eat before our lunch date and scarf down a couple of nice, juicy burgers.
I paste a just-got-laid grin on my face and stride to the front door. Yes, Dave the Dick, I’ve been in your girl—and newsflash, she’s traded up. Not like I can take my own dick out and wave it around the parking lot—Rain’s made it clear that traumatizing pregnant ladies will put me on her permanent shit list and un-do all my good work apologizing—but I walk like I own the world. Which I do. It’s good to be an apex predator, and unless Sir Dicks-a-lot turns out to be a dinosaur shifter or a closet dragon with an undersized weiner, I’m bigger, badder, and a thousand times more vicious than him.
I’m halfway to the door when I spot my target. He’s lurking behind an older BMW with a sweet paint job. I slow my roll so he can appreciate my magnificence. I’m at least five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. Mentally I draw a little picture of him. Brown hair that’s artfully tousled around his face, lean, gym fit. He doesn’t fit the villain mold, but he’s also not the hero type. He’s wearing a pair of dark dress slacks, a button-down shirt, and a baby blue tie that’s open at the throat. He looks like one of those banker types, and part of me can see why Rain might have taken a second look. He’s baby daddy material, respectably employed, solid.
Except that there’s something really fucking shifty about the look on his face. Like he’s scoping out his territory. I make a mental note to pee on a few trees and parking blocks just in case he does turn out to be a shifter after all. Which is unlikely. I inhale. Not that I want the scent of The Dick flooding my lungs, but a couple of breaths confirms he’s definitely no shifter. He stinks like leather loafers, Burberry cologne… and another female.
Stupid fuck.
Guess he is the villain after all.
I pause on the doorstep and make deliberate eye contact. He doesn’t look too happy to see me. Probably knows he’s packing a cocktail weiner in comparison to my mighty schlong.
I go in, give Laney, aka Front Desk Girl, the lunch I picked up for her, and head back to Rain’s office. She eats the lunch I provide. I do similar things the next two days, although by Thursday I’ve reached my salad limit and mix it up and take her riding on my bike for burgers (I eat the meat and she gets the buns and pickle crap).
On Friday, I mix it up again and hit the taco truck before tracking down Rain. It’s my favorite food truck and the ladies there are always happy to see me. My Spanish isn’t great but they laugh and flirt and everybody goes home smiling. Plus, they’ve got these crunchy taco things full of carrots and beans that are actually not bad. Rain busted me on the burger pre-eating when I planted a kiss on her mouth, so now I’m on the veggie bandwagon for as long as I’m riding the lunch-eating train with her. My monster cock will have to get his daily protein later—and I’ve added mouthwash to my bike’s saddlebags just in case any kissing opportunity comes up.
Lunch with Rain is kinda fun, even if she is a plant eater. We talk about stuff. Our days, sure, but also the little things. Like cat memes and movies and random crap we spotted on our way to the clinic. She’s still refusing to swap dirty fantasies with me, but I’m working on her. She claims it’s not “work appropriate,” but then clams up when I suggest an after-hours sesh in the parking lot.
Rain’s also big on what she calls “working off the food baby” and so usually we go for a short walk after we eat before she has to go back to examining baby bumps and I take off to do my thing. She likes the path along the bayou’s edge or anything with trees and lots of green shit. Probably a side effect of those plants she eats, but my wolf and I are in full agreement. Outside is always better than inside unless we’re talking about me getting my dick inside her pussy.
Today, however, I take advantage of an open closet to swing her inside before we can hit the door. It’s not the sexiest venue I could have chosen. For starters, there are shelves and shelves of what look like office supplies, stretching from my waist to the ceiling. For added ambience, there’s a photocopier shoved against the back wall, along with a couple of bright blue recycling bins. It’s no Four Seasons and my bed’s a way better choice for what I have in mind. On the upside, there’s just enough room for the two of us. And on the up-upside? She clearly trusts me just a little now because she goes with me.