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Then he’s gone again, storming away in such a swirl of Alpha energy that it isn’t until he’s gone that I realize how flustered he must have been to forget why he came to my rooms in the first place.
And he wasn’t flustered because of Diana.
I’d bet my right pinkie finger that it was the heat between us that sent him running. And if he wants me even half as much as I want him, then I may still have a card or two up my sleeve…
I suppose there’s one way to find out.
Chapter 7
Maxim
“Fuck me” eyes.
The woman has the sexiest, most shameless, “come and get me and give it to me against the wall” eyes I’ve ever seen.
Sitting there in her pajamas, with her hair wild from sleep and English muffin crumbs on her lap, she couldn’t have been less my type. She was…snuggly, not elegant. Curvy and casual instead of strong and lean with just the hint of softness. I like women who can keep up with me in the gym and the bedroom, not bookish scientists who clearly spent more time hitting the books and the buffet than the pavement for a morning run.
Despite her pretty eyes and plush mouth, Willow is fairly average looking.
So why was meeting her gaze enough to make me want to bend her over the foot of the bed and own her slick little pussy?
Because she was wet.
I could smell her, a salty sweet scent that spun through my head like the aroma of breakfast frying in the kitchen after a long night out in the cold, feeling starved to the spine. She literally made my mouth water.
I swipe the back of my hand across my lips as I stalk to the elevator and punch the button for basement level two.
I need to get laid. That’s all this is.
I’ve been sleeping alone too much lately, letting pack business creep into my recreational hours until I’m all work and no play.
On instinct, I whip out my phone and shoot a text to Trix—Up for drinks tonight? La Luna’s rooftop garden, ten o’clock, my treat?
In just a few seconds her reply pops through—Oh, no, it will be my treat, darlin’. Assuming you’re taking me back to your place after. I’ve been having nightmares about your cock all week.
Lips quirking, I text back—Nightmares? I thought my cock gave you sweet dreams.
She shoots over—Not when I’m dreaming about you getting taken off the market, mister. I need you to stay single for at least another month or two, okay? At least until I can have a mold of your man downstairs made for my personal dildoing pleasure. I promise, if you let me get after you with my plaster, I won’t share the mold with anyone else. It’ll be mine and mine alone.
Trix designs sex toys for a living and has been after me to let her create an homage to my “man downstairs” for months.
I’m never going to do anything of the sort—I’m not a shy man by any means, but I am a private one—but I’m not above…ahem…dangling a carrot…
So to speak.
I step out of the elevator, texting—We’ll discuss it later. After you’ve shown me what a bad girl you can be. See you at ten. Wear the purple dress I like.
She sends back an emoji with stars for eyes, a unicorn, and several eggplants—fairies love their emojis—before signing off with—See you then.
I slide my phone back into the pocket of my black suit pants, but I don’t feel as…settled as I usually would after making a date.
I have urges like any other man, but I’m not ruled by them. When it becomes apparent I need to blow off steam with a member of the opposite sex, I make arrangements to do so and that’s that.
Then I’m instantly back to business and focused on the next item on my “To Do” list.
But the only thing I can think about doing right now is a curvy little wolf.
By the time Hermione leads Willow into the interrogation room thirty minutes later, I’ve had imaginary Willow in my shower, in my bed, and in one of the alcoves at La Luna, where I pushed up her skirt and made her come on my mouth while warning her not to make a sound or I’d punish her when we got home.
