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“Flirting with another man. Stripping in public.”
“Even if by some chance we were mated, he has no way to know while I cover my scent,” I finally said. “You know I’m obsessive about hiding it. I put lotion or deodorant everywhere, and perfume on top of it.”
“I know. We should be safe from any potential bond. Plenty of werewolves sleep around until they meet their mate—he may just want some physical contact and think you’re pretty.”
My face warmed at the idea.
I liked it, a lot.
How good he smelled to me had to be a coincidence.
“Let’s go with that option,” I said. “He might have been lying about not having sex on the first date.”
“There’s plenty of fun to be had before you get to sex, right?”
My face flushed. “Supposedly.”
My wolf chuffed, her version of laughter, and curled back up comfortably as Bauther pulled into the garage of his house.
It was in the furthest corner of the street closest to the neighborhood’s entrance, big but not massive, and surrounded by even more trees than most of the homes.
“You like your privacy,” I remarked, as he parked and shut off the engine.
“I do.” He stepped out and made it around the truck quickly enough to open my door for me while I was still pulling my bag over my shoulder. When he offered his hand, I took it. My lips curved upward automatically as he helped me down.
He didn’t release my hand as he led me inside the house behind him. My gaze moved over the interior—the walls were light and floors were dark, with everything looking sort of rustic and rugged.
It felt comfortable, and natural.
“Your home is beautiful, Beck.”
“Thank you.” He squeezed my hand lightly, and I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling again.
I needed to get my emotions back under control. I was enjoying our date way too much.
“Did you have dinner yet?” he asked.
“Yes, before we went out. The bar’s fries are good, but they’re about the only edible thing they sell.”
He chuckled, leading me to the couch. “I agree.”
My body warmed a bit more. I was feeling sort of… well, horny.
I’d never felt horny because of someone before.
I liked it, though.
Bauther sat first, leaving me to decide how much distance I put between us.
I gave in to my horniness and sat down close to him, turning so the top of my knee rested on his thigh. His hand landed on my leg immediately, and my body warmed further.
“So do you have more drama for me?” I teased.
“Always.” He squeezed my leg, and I felt myself getting damp between my thighs.
“Anne Singer and Gordon Long have hated each other for years.”
“Everyone knows that. He drives her insane.”
