“And you like quiet.”
“Most days.”
“Which implies there are days you don’t.”
I sigh and reach around her for a cookie, anything to get away from this line of questioning.
Without hesitation, she smacks my hand. “Uh-uh.”
I arch a brow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” She snatches up the tray and backs out of the kitchen like a dragon guarding treasure. “These cookies are only for people who play by the rules.”
“Rules?”
“My rules.” Her grin is wicked and bright. “Of the game I’m making up right now.”
I lean against the counter, arms crossed. “And what game would that be?”
“Simple. Answer a question honestly, get a cookie.”
“I don’t want a cookie.”
“Fine.” She glances around, spots the Glenlivet, and swipes it off the counter. “Answer a question, get a shot.”
“I don’t want a shot either.”
We want the fox.
Her brow lifts. Then, slowly and deliberately, as if she heard the wolf’s growl beneath my skin, she presses her teeth into her lower lip. “Okay,” she purrs. “New rule. Answer a question…and I’ll take something off.”
My pulse kicks hard.
The wolf surges under my skin, pressing against the bars of his cage. His snarl ripples through me, pulsing straight to my cock. Every instinct I’ve buried wakes up at once, a predator stretching after too long asleep.
Emme’s standing there, lip caught between her teeth, blue eyes glittering with challenge, and all I can think is how easy it would be to pounce, to test the line she’s drawing with that look.
Let’s play.
This is a bad idea. She’s trouble.
She’s a fox.My wolf paces his confines, restless, starving.They’re the best kind of trouble.
I drag in a slow breath, the air thick with sugar and her. And Solstice help me, I’ve never wanted trouble more.
CHAPTER 5
EMME
“Let’s do it.”West rounds the counter, grin crinkling the corners of his eyes.
My pulse skips, and a little thrill runs down my spine. My fox hums beneath my skin, tail flicking, excited and reckless. She loves this—being seen, being matched. Someone stepping right up to the line and daring her to cross it.
“Ask away.”
The cookies slide across the sheet pan as I set it on the leather armchair. Right. Questions. I knew this was coming, but my mind goes completely blank.
“Fudge fuckers,” I mumble.
