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“I say you need them, so you need them,” Trace chuckled. He brought my wrist to his mouth for a kiss, creating new butterflies in my stomach. “The first rule is that you don’t try to push me away. Ever. If my touch is too much or you need me to stop, you need to use your words, and I’ll stop.”
His promise made me suspicious until I remembered that morning when he had pulled away at my request. Maybe he would be able and willing to stop without me pushing him away. I nodded, causing him to grin broadly.
“Good girl,” he purred. He kissed me on the forehead and turned to grab some file folders and labels. “I need you to sort through all this mess. Some of the papers are bills or invoices. They have all been paid, but we need to keep them for taxes. Others are minutes from council meetings, and then there are some things that might have to be labeled as ‘miscellaneous.’ Just do your best and use as many folders as you need. I have a conference call starting in a few minutes, but just send a text or come find me if you need me. I’ll be in there.”
He pointed to one of the interior doors within the wing. It had his name on it, which I suppose made sense. Two other doors were labeled for Randy and Justine. An unlabeled one next to his told me it was likely intended for the alpha’s mate, but I didn’t want to ask. Instead, I just nodded and returned my focus to the pile on the secretarial desk in the center of the open room.
An hour and a half passed, but finally, the papers were sorted, and the folders were full and labeled. I grabbed a drink from the water cooler and surveyed the difference, pleased with my work. A small voice inside hoped that Trace would be happy with it, too.
I walked to the door and paused before knocking. He was so quiet in his office that part of me wondered if there was another door in there that allowed him to leave undetected.
“Come in,” he said. I turned the handle and smiled at the man behind the desk. His tie was undone, and his long hairwas ruffled from running his hands through it. He had never looked sexier.
"The filing is done," I said. "Is there anything else you need me to do?"
The offer earned me a wolfy grin. "Feeling rather submissive today, are we, mate? You have no idea how much I like to hear you ask me questions like that."
I blinked. I was just trying to be helpful since I was living in the house, too. My behavior had nothing to do with any desire to submit to him. Although, I might not have asked the question if he hadn't looked so appealing when I walked in.
I shook the unwanted thought away and glared at him. "Should I take that to mean I'm free to go?"
"If you wish," Trace said. "I was just thinking of taking a break for lunch. Do you want to join me?"
All the fight left me at the mention of food. I sighed and nodded, much to his approval. He stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and extended his arm for me to hold. I rolled my eyes but found myself reaching for it anyway.
"Just wait until you're calling me 'sir.' Or better yet, 'master,'" he whispered, squeezing my hand. I pulled my arm back quickly and scowled. Like that would ever happen.
__________
Watching Trace cook had been an unexpectedly good time. He had rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt and turned a list of simple ingredients into a delicious salmon and white rice meal. I hadn’t expected the powerful wolf to knowanything about seasoning fish or pairing it with wine, but by the time he finished, it was one of the best meals I had ever eaten.
His eyes had shifted momentarily when I groaned at the first bite. No doubt, the sound had inspired some carnal thoughts for him, and I smiled beside myself. It was good to know that I wasn’t the only one to have an embarrassing moment or two of unexpected horniness. Hopefully, Jess would inspire the same kind of reaction during her visit to his room that night.
Once again, I was thankful that our connection wasn’t complete. But something else was changing and binding us together. I frowned, starting to realize that Trace’s jabs about my obedience and submission to him were rooted in fact. Disobeying was becoming more difficult. Maybe Gabe would have some idea of what I could do to curb the effect.
“What are you thinking about, little wolf?” Trace asked from the other side of the table. His question startled me. I fought the urge to answer truthfully, settling on vagueness instead.
“The future,” I said honestly. “And the present.”
He grunted a laugh. “Well, at least you’re not focusing on the past, I guess.”
“What are you thinking about?” I asked. It was polite to return the question, but I was also genuinely interested in the answer.What occupied Trace’s mind in between the intense emotions and horniness?I wondered.
“I was thinking about Justine and Randy, hoping that they’re almost done dealing with the alpha of Sweetwater,” he said. “They are our neighbors to the south. Our relationship with them has been… strained lately.”
I nodded, though I had not heard of the Sweetwater pack before. They must be small or new. “Do you think they won’t be successful?”
“Not at all. They are the best ones to do it. The issue is over an alliance Sweetwater might make with Randy’s former pack, and we want to make sure they know who they’re making friends with. Once they hear what Randy and Justine have to say, my guess is that any chance of an alliance is over.”
We finished the meal, and I got up to clear the dishes. Trace watched my every move but refrained from commenting. I knew he probably saw cleaning up after us as a submissive action toward him, and he could go ahead thinking that. My real goal was to get the mess cleaned up as soon as possible, so I could discuss the new developments in the mating process with Gabe.
At least, that’s what I was telling myself. I didn’t care one bit the way his eyes radiated with approval, and I certainly didn’t walk with a sway to show off my ass when I knew he was looking.
Trace caught me by the hip and pulled me to him when I was done. I instinctually spread my legs so that I was straddling his lap. My mind buzzed as my sex made contact with his through our clothing.
“Do you know what it does to me to watch you clean up our mess?” he asked, flexing his hips to show me the result. I groaned aloud as the thick ridge in his pants pushed against my core. I rocked against it, not caring about anything other than creating some friction.
“Fuck, Mariam. If you keep doing that, I’m going to shoot my load in my pants like some teenager,” he growled low.
