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Maybe because I had four years to fantasize about it happening again, when I never really thought it would.
He was still holding me down by the throat, and his hand pulsed as his hips rocked into me. Then he seated himself inside me, going still.
He was panting. I was panting.
My head was spinning.
Fucking magical.
That was utter fucking magic.
When I looked up at his face again, his light, wolfish eyes locked with mine. The lights gleaming in his high industrial ceilings, twirling all around his dark head of hair, without my glasses on, looked like… glitter. He was all sweaty and beautiful above me, all his muscles straining as he held me down.
Did I just get fucked by a unicorn?
No.
I pushed the unwanted thought away.
Shane Madrigal was no unicorn.
He was a sly, ravenous wolf, at best. A rogue alpha.
And no matter how I just let him devour me, I would not be his prey.
ChapterThirteen
Jolie
“Well, well, what happened toyoulast night?”
I was sitting on my mom’s front step in cutoffs and flip flops, sunglasses and no makeup, when Aunt Mireille rolled up in her convertible with my cousin Charlotte. Mireille was eying me. “I take it you girls had fun after dropping the old ladies off at home, hmm?”
Charlotte frowned at me like I was a traitor, since she’d missed out on all this “fun.” Ever since I’d reached adulthood before her, she seemed to feel I’d abandoned her in childhood.
If only she knew how much simpler it was there.
But she was eighteen now. Next month, she’d be legal in Vancouver bars, one day she’d move out of Aunt Mireille’s house, maybe she’d meet some super hot jerk she wanted to screw even though she knew she shouldn’t, and she’d learn how much adulting sucked.
“Ugh.” I dragged myself to my feet as Charlotte hopped out to hug me. “I figured it was obvious. I’m hungover.”
I was. Desperately. But not from alcohol.
This morning, I was suffering a guilt hangover from the fuck of my life.
But I’d much, much rather my entire family assume an ungodly amount of alcohol did this to me. Because the truth was I’d let my stepbrother smash that for like, hours. And I loved every fucking second of it.
Something was wrong with me.
“Bonjour!” Mom came flitting out of the house, but there was no sign of Jacob, thank God. I’d crept home in the middle of the night like a thief, and I could not face Jacob right now. I felt worse than a freeloader in his house this morning.
He took care of me like I was one of his own, and I’d helped myself to his cereal cupboard, his dark roast coffee and a gluttonous helping of his son’s dick.
We piled into Mireille’s convertible to head into Vancouver, and between the sun blazing down and the three of them singing along—badly—to Taylor Swift, I had a mild headache by the time we arrived at Alyssa’s spa.
I would’ve loved to have planned the perfect pre-wedding “dry run” spa day for my mom and her maid of honor, but Alyssa had approximately a thousand ideas better than mine, so I’d given her free rein to go nuts.
Nestled among the boutiques and cafés just blocks up from the beach in Kitsilano, Decadence Spa was a lavender scented oasis of glass and ultra chic reclaimed wood furnishings just off bustling West Fourth Avenue. Alyssa had opened up early today, just for us. She greeted us herself, ushering us inside with a welcoming smile—for everyone else—and aWhat the hell, bitch?look for me.
