Page 131 of Sour Notes

Her hair is up in a messy bun just begging for my fingers to sink in and pull the strands free.

Wolfman, you better stop before something else breaks free.

I hold out a hand, inwardly preening that she takes it to lower herself beside me.

Fuck me, she smells good. Too good. Mouthwatering, which is gonna be a whole-ass problem.

When the soft skin of her thigh accidentally brushes against mine, I’m forced to grit my teeth to stop the guttural sound I almost let slip. My control is so frayed, I quickly slide into the water because I can’t trust myself with what comes after if I don’t.

I’m desperately tempted to feast on her buns instead of the breakfast buns the nice man delivered.

“You want me to bring the tray to you there?”

I squint up at her, realizing too late my sunglasses are on the table.

“No. I wanna get in too. You want me to grab your sunglasses, though? You look a little squinty.” She flashes me a cheeky grin, not waiting for my response before she immediately spins to stand up again.

That ass I was imagining? Yeah, as suspected, grade A, five-star rump steak, begging for my teeth.

This time I’m not quick enough to stifle the groan.

She sashays back to me, holding out my sunglasses, entirely oblivious to how her little red bikini has triggered the big bad wolf.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

Yes, I want to devour you.

Sucking in a breath, I rein in the beast she keeps trying to pull out of me, reaching out to take my sunglasses from her.

The second our fingers brush, my skin buzzes with awareness.

“Ouch! These flip-flops gave me an electric shock. Sorry, Wolfie.” Huffing out a frustrated breath, she kicks off her footwear in annoyance.

Cute, but I’m not sure it was the flip-flops, Angel. I’m sparking like a goddamn live wire over here.

I slide the sunglasses up my nose, hoping they’ll act like some kinda barrier, reducing the potency of this woman.

Fuck.

Like she was sent to solely test my limits, she holds a hand out to me from where she’s settled on the pool’s edge.

Please don’t tell me she wants me to lift her in.

As badly as my palms itch to touch her, if she wraps her legs around me, she’ll feel things she shouldn’t.

Hell, I’m feeling all the things I shouldn’t. Especially since we haven’t even talked about yesterday.

As if I wasn’t struggling enough with this stupid dynamic I let myself get dragged into, I’m pretty sure that quiz unlocked something inside me while I watched her reactions.

That flicker of hope I thought I saw.

But I can’t be sure. And I’m smart enough to know assumptions don’t solve a case. I need hard evidence that she’s ready to be mine—not just a hard dick.

I can’t keep touching her, fooling myself into believing it’s more.

As if you’re strong enough to say no to her.

Apparently not, because, oh look, I’m already standing between her thighs, hands wrapped around her waist.