Goddess, but she was beautiful.
“I would do anything to protect you and Noah. So would my entire family. Any one of my brothers, my uncle—all of us would lay down our lives for yours or Noah’s. It’s how a pack works.”
“I’m just magically part of the pack?”
“I wouldn’t call it magic.” He laughed. “You’re my son’s mother. And, as of this moment, he’s the Woolven heir.”
“Your son’s mother.” She nodded slowly. “Is that all you want from me?” Emmie searched his face. “I’m not… Christ, this is awkward. I’m not asking for anything. I know Santorini was a summer fling. I want to know what you expect of me.”
“I expect you to let me be your partner raising our son. I expect you to do what you’ve been doing—being a good mother. Putting him first. Protecting him. Loving him. That’s all I can expect from you.” He pulled her against him slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. “But what I want from you is a totally different matter.”
Her lips parted, and she wetted them, chest rising and falling as her heart raced. He could hear the rush of blood through her veins, the thudding of her heart. And her desire, the scent of it was like a sweet haze he could stay lost in forever.
“You don’t mean that. You’re a businessman. You’re using this to get me to do what you want with Noah.”
“Tell me, does this feel like anything besides what it is?” He pressed hard against her, his erection thick and obvious.
She braced her hands on his shoulders. “I’ve heard that, for some men, the thrill of getting what they want is sexual.”
“I’m not a man. I’m a werewolf.” He nosed at her neck. “I’m primal. Animal.” He nipped lightly at her ear and her delighted shiver thrilled him. “And I want you more than I did in Santorini.”
It took all of his self-control to pull away. “But I’m not going to take anything from you that you don’t want to give me.”
“This doesn’t happen to a woman like me.”
“What doesn’t?”
“The hot young millionaire with the gentle heart. The art student…This isn’t real.”
“Billionaire, love. I’m a billionaire. And my heart isn’t gentle. It’s a furious thing that wants to taste the world. See everything, touch everything. It’s not gentle in its love, either. It’s all consuming and terrifying. But it’s been silent since Santorini, because I’m pretty sure I left it with you.”
“Do you know how old I am? I’m much too old for you.”
“I’m four times your age.”
“Shouldn’t we be getting to Aphelion for butter cookies?” She swallowed hard.
“If that’s what you want.”
“What do you want?” she blurted.
“I thought that was obvious.” His gaze fixed on her mouth as he thought about tasting her lips. “You.”
She tittered, obviously nervous. “No, you don’t.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t tell you what you want, if you don’t try to tell me what I want. Unless there’s handcuffs and a bed involved and then you’ve got some leeway. Otherwise, it’s just as condescending and dismissive when you do it to me. I know what I want, Em. I know what I need. So does my wolf.”
He debated telling her she was the one, his mate. But she’d been through so much already. Part of him wanted to confess it, to tell her all the ways he’d be devoted to her and her happiness, but there was another part of him that said that was selfish. To give her time to process everything. Time to love him on her own terms—she was human. She didn’t understand things like mates.
“I’ll give you that. You’re right. But you have to understand my incredulity.”
“Why? Why do I have to understand that you think so lowly of yourself?”
She twisted away from him.
This time, he couldn’t keep from touching her, offering her physical comfort. Something gentler than his desire. His need. This was about her. He stroked his hand down her back in the tenderest of caresses.
“Breslin is a bastard, Em. You’re not with him anymore for a reason. You deserve better.”
Emmie turned into him, and he offered her the shelter of his arms. “I wish we were in Santorini again.”
“We can be. We could go this weekend. We could take Noah, or we could let him get to know Mrs. Westwood and the rest of my family for a few days.”
“Just like that? A snap of your fingers, and we can go to Greece?”
“Or you could go by yourself, if you wanted. I’ll keep Noah. When was the last time you did anything alone?”
“The last time I was in Santorini.” She sighed. “I couldn’t possibly leave him.” Emmie looked up at him, her fingers pressing hard into his biceps.
The moment between them was gravid with desire. She wanted him.
He wanted her.
But there was so much at stake.
Drew wanted to kiss her, carry her back into her little cottage and then replay all of his fantasies and hers out in her bedroom.
Or her couch.
Her kitchen island.
Her shower.
Her…
“We can’t,” she whispered.
“Oh, but we can. Mrs. Westwood isn’t expecting us back any time soon or she would’ve given us brooms too.” He leaned down and put his chin on the top of her head in a familiar motion. “If you say yes.”
“Yes to what?”
“Yes to me, making love to you. No strings, if you don’t want them.”
“What if I did want them? Then what? Would you be so quick to take me to bed?”
“I’d be quick to put a ring on your finger and, if you accepted it, my bite at your throat.”
She froze, but didn’t pull away. “You’re insane.”
“No, I’m just a wolf who knows his mate. I wish I could tell you that I wouldn’t wait forever, but I would. I will. The best part about being a wolf is no games. We’re too honest about our needs. The wolf nature won’t let us be any other way.”
“What about bad wolves?”
“I won’t say there aren’t any. There are. There are wolves who lie, cheat, steal, kill for pleasure… but they’re not… they’re abominations. They’re poisoned.”
“I want you, Drew. When I saw you, my body remembered Santorini before the rest of me. I haven’t been touched in so long. It’s like my skin craves it. But I’m not ready for anything else.” She took a deep breath. “If you still want me, I’d like to invite you inside.”
Chapter Seven
Emmie couldn’t believe she’d just invited Drew in for sex. It probably wasn’t the best choice, but it had been so long since she’d been touched and he felt so good.
She took his hand and led him inside.
She was suddenly self-conscious about everything. About the toys on the floor, her shabby furniture, her shabby self. Her nails weren’t painted, her hair a mess, she hadn’t shaved her legs since… well, she wouldn’t even think about when.
Let alone grooming the lady garden.
It was probably dusty.
What had she been thinking?
Hot days and even hotter nights, sand and sea, and that guy who’d blown her mind and her clit in Santorini. That’s what she’d been thinking.
Emmie didn’t know what to do now. She’d gotten him inside. She kind of wanted him to grab her, kiss her hard and bend her over the couch. Easy-peasy. Only, that wasn’t what she wanted in the long run. She wanted autonomy, choice, and freedom. So, she had to stand up and ask for what she wanted.
He seemed to know. Drew pushed his hand through her hair, his fingers playing with the strands. “I’m nervous, too.”
“You don’t seem like it.” She almost said he wasn’t, almost denied what he said, but he was right. That was dismissive no matter who did the denying.
“I haven’t been with anyone since Santorini.”
That shouldn’t have thrilled her, but it did. “Me either.”
He dipped his head slowly and brushed his lips against hers. Suddenly, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Not the toys on the floor, her furniture, or even her lady garden grooming. It was all secondary—a tiny whisper of something she felt like she was supposed to remember, but it was background noise when compared to the heat that flared between them.
Her senses were filled with Drew. The way he smelled—like expensive cologne and the bite of winter. The way his presence filled the space, the way his muscles rippled under her fingers, and the flood of memories of not only Santorini and their naked bodies straining in concert toward culmination, but how he made her feel about herself.
That she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
That she mattered.
As amazing as the chemistry was between them, that feeling of being a person who mattered was better.
Guilt flared. She should be at Aphelion, with her son. Not here, trying to get a quick lay because she was lonely.
The thought was cold and harsh in her head.
Drew seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, like always. “Hey, if you don’t want this, we can stop. But it’s okay if you do want it. It’s okay to be a person as well as a mother.”
“How do you always know what I’m thinking?”
“Mate privilege.” He dragged his cheek along hers, almost as if he marked her with his scent. Like a wolf.
“I can’t be your mate. I’m human.” She didn’t know if what she was feeling was excitement or fear, or maybe a bit of both.
“I’m the wolf here, sweetheart. I know my own mate.” He smiled down at her.
“Then why didn’t you know in Santorini?” This was just too convenient. She showed up with his son and suddenly he knew she’s his mate? Whatever. Except the thought caused a cold spill of guilt to shiver down her back. Andrew might have lied about his name but, in his position, she would have, too. He’d never been anything but kind, gentle, almost like a dream.
There it was. The root of all her doubt. Andrew Woolven was too good to be true.
“Because we weren’t ready yet. I was still very much a young wolf learning my duties as Beta to my brother, to my pack. I wouldn’t have been a good mate to you then.”
“What makes you think you’re different now?”
“Are you the same person you were five years ago?”
She blushed. No, she was a million miles away from who she was five years ago and still a million miles from where she wanted to be. “Probably not.”
“Are you going to hold me to a higher standard than where you hold yourself?”
She flexed her fingers against his shoulders, enjoying the feel of him, not wanting to let go. “Maybe.”
A grin curved his mouth. “Okay, then. I can take it. What about you?”
Desire curled low in her belly. “Can I what?” She lifted her chin. “Can I take it?” Lord, but it sounded filthy when she said it that way. By the look in his eyes, that was exactly what he meant.
She decided then and there that this was going to happen. “Yeah. I can.”
His nostrils flared as if he could scent her thoughts—or maybe it was her desire? The way his gaze intensified, it was like she was prey, but she couldn’t imagine anything better. She swallowed hard, suddenly fighting the urge to run, but not because she was afraid.
Because she wanted him to chase her, to take her down and—Jesus. These thoughts, they were so strange and foreign. Not at all like her own.
She backed away from him, and he cocked his head to the side, as if sensing her intent.
“Oh really?” His grin widened, showing all of his pretty, perfect white teeth.
She bit her lip. “Really.”
Emmie darted toward the bedroom, and he was right behind her, pouncing on her and pressing her down into the unmade bed. She laughed.
“Oh, that was just a tease.”
“I like teasing you.”
“Do you?” His eyes had changed to amber and that brought it all home again. Reminded her what he was—how easily he could hurt her.
She didn’t think he’d hurt her, but she couldn’t help shying away.
He closed his eyes and rolled off of her. “I can’t help what I am, Emmie.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath. “But I like who I think you are, so what you are has to be part of that, right?” Emmie wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.
“Who you think I am?”
“Hey, just like I have to give you a break, you have to give me one. I didn’t even know your real name until today.”
“I guess that’s fair.”
“But I want this,” she said quietly. “I want to touch you, and I want to feel like I did in Santorini.”
“Who knows if anything could ever be like Santorini? It was a fairytale. Some kind of magic.”
“The way you touched me, it was like I was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen,” she confessed.
“You are.”
She snorted. “I doubt that.”
“Will you let me show you?” he asked, as if somehow the answer could or would ever be no.
Emmie couldn’t imagine a woman who was still breathing who would say no to an afternoon with Drew Woolven. Golden eyes or not. They were rather beautiful, too. She fancied, probably erroneously, that the predator in him thought she was lovely as well.
A beast was a beast, wasn’t it?
Except Drew had never been anything but the perfect gentleman—and her son was no beast.
It wasn’t Drew she was afraid of meeting in a dark alley, it was her own ex-husband. She wasn’t going to pass this up because he was something she didn’t really understand.
Emmie could take this chance and try to trust him. Just a little.
“Show me.”
He had her naked so fast, she didn’t even realize what he’d done. All of her doubts and insecurities came rushing back to cloud her brain, to take her out of the moment.
But looking up at him, seeing the way he looked at her—it had to be a lie. Didn’t it?
It wasn’t like the way he’d looked at her in Santorini at all. In Santorini, he’d looked at her like she was some piece of art. The way he looked at her now? It was as if she were the only woman in the universe. She felt as if all of his attention was on her, that he belonged to her body and soul.
Emmie had trouble wrapping her head around such a thing.
“How can you look at me like that?”
“Like you’re my mate? Like you’re the only woman I ever want to look at again? Like you’re the only creature I want to fill my senses? Because you are.”
Thinking about it logically, she didn’t believe him, but looking into his eyes while he spoke, it was impossible not to believe him. When their eyes locked, it was impossible to escape him, and she didn’t want to. Emmie wanted to let him pull her down, and she’d fall like raindrops back into the endless ocean of him.
She wanted to stay in this moment. She wanted to feel like this forever:
Beautiful.
Wanted.
Safe.
Only, as soon as she allowed herself the moment, it was broken. Something stirred in the back of her mind—the rattling of a decaying lock with no key. The unfathomable monster behind that lock and chains suddenly awake, hungry. Black tentacles reaching out to her consciousness…
Emmie blinked as shadows curled around her.
For a moment, in Drew’s place stood a slavering beast. Not the beast he’d shown her when he was protecting their son—something different. Darker. Twisted. Then it was gone.
It was only Drew.
The man with the monster under his skin.
“What’s wrong, Emmie?” He cupped her cheek.
His hand was warm and real, solid and human. There was only gentleness in his touch, only concern in his voice. The magnetic pull between them had been dissolved somehow, and all she could think about was running.
But she knew better th
an to run. If she ran, he’d chase her. They liked to chase… A memory that was just beyond on her reach drifted close to her consciousness and then skittered away.
“Nothing.” She swallowed hard. She knew that Drew wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t evil. He’d never hurt her. Would he?
“Your fear reeks.” He dropped his hand and closed his eyes. “Tell me how to stop it.”
“I don’t know.” All of Emmie’s desire had vanished. In its place was only the monster. Logically, she knew that Drew wouldn’t hurt her. But there was some primal instinct inside of her that crowded out all logic.
His eyes changed again when they opened, a soft glowing ember. Beautiful and awful at the same time.
She cast her eyes down at the floor, unable to look at him. Terror knifing through her.
“He rises to protect you. I wish I could make you understand that.” His voice was low, gravelly, tinged by the animal inside of him.
“I do,” she mumbled.
“I’ll go.”
Emmie couldn’t stand that, either. She didn’t want him to leave. She was so at odds with herself. One part of her demanded his nearness, wanting him to touch her in all the ways he had on Santorini. Wanting to lay her burdens all on his shoulders, especially since he’d asked for them. He’d offered her protection. Safety. Forever. Only that other part of her knew fear. Knew terror. “Don’t go. Not like this.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Emmie. My nearness frightens you, but you don’t want me to leave. If I keep scenting your fear, my beast will erupt to protect you. That will only drive us farther apart.”
He wrapped a blanket around her nakedness and, even though he raised her fear, she was comforted by him as well. She didn’t understand any of this. Maybe she needed therapy more than she’d previously thought.
“Yet, with your fingers on me, I still want you. I don’t understand my own reactions to you.”
“I can still scent that, too. And I want to touch you, but I won’t. It makes me sick that you’re afraid of me.”
“It’s not you.” She leaned into him.
“It’s the werewolf. I get that, but that’s me too.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Regret stained the moment.
The Werewolf Tycoon's Secret Baby (The Woolven Secret Book 2) Page 5