If I’d been the one creating the fake boyfriend plan, I’d certainly have added naked to the top of the list. Me naked. Rain naked. Playing naked slip-and-slide on her office furniture, naked in the back of my truck, stripped down at my favorite look-out, and definitely naked in a really big bed. It would’ve been awesome. Of course, then it wouldn’t have been fake either. It occurs to me that I don’t know where Rain lives or what her bedroom looks like. After we left the clubhouse yesterday, she had me drop her off at the clinic and then she waited until I rode off before she left. My wolf thought we should follow her home to make sure she got there safe, but my human knew that was a bad idea. And since she was trusting me to do what she asked, I did.

So the day after we agree to go all out, pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend, I’m once again standing in the parking lot of her work. I’m holding two large bags of take out. Given Rain’s reaction to my culinary endeavors the night before, this means I’m holding nothing that used to have a face—just pounds and pounds of vegetable crap. Since wolves and meat are like peanut butter and chocolate, a fucking match made in heaven, I’ve also taken a few minutes to pre-eat before our lunch date and scarf down a couple of nice, juicy burgers.

I paste a just-got-laid grin on my face and stride to the front door. Yes, Dave the Dick, I’ve been in your girl—and newsflash, she’s traded up. Not like I can take my own dick out and wave it around the parking lot—Rain’s made it clear that traumatizing pregnant ladies will put me on her permanent shit list and un-do all my good work apologizing—but I walk like I own the world. Which I do. It’s good to be an apex predator, and unless Sir Dicks-a-lot turns out to be a dinosaur shifter or a closet dragon with an undersized weiner, I’m bigger, badder, and a thousand times more vicious than him.

I’m halfway to the door when I spot my target. He’s lurking behind an older BMW with a sweet paint job. I slow my roll so he can appreciate my magnificence. I’m at least five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. Mentally I draw a little picture of him. Brown hair that’s artfully tousled around his face, lean, gym fit. He doesn’t fit the villain mold, but he’s also not the hero type. He’s wearing a pair of dark dress slacks, a button-down shirt, and a baby blue tie that’s open at the throat. He looks like one of those banker types, and part of me can see why Rain might have taken a second look. He’s baby daddy material, respectably employed, solid.

Except that there’s something really fucking shifty about the look on his face. Like he’s scoping out his territory. I make a mental note to pee on a few trees and parking blocks just in case he does turn out to be a shifter after all. Which is unlikely. I inhale. Not that I want the scent of The Dick flooding my lungs, but a couple of breaths confirms he’s definitely no shifter. He stinks like leather loafers, Burberry cologne… and another female.

Stupid fuck.

Guess he is the villain after all.

I pause on the doorstep and make deliberate eye contact. He doesn’t look too happy to see me. Probably knows he’s packing a cocktail weiner in comparison to my mighty schlong.

I go in, give Laney, aka Front Desk Girl, the lunch I picked up for her, and head back to Rain’s office. She eats the lunch I provide. I do similar things the next two days, although by Thursday I’ve reached my salad limit and mix it up and take her riding on my bike for burgers (I eat the meat and she gets the buns and pickle crap).

On Friday, I mix it up again and hit the taco truck before tracking down Rain. It’s my favorite food truck and the ladies there are always happy to see me. My Spanish isn’t great but they laugh and flirt and everybody goes home smiling. Plus, they’ve got these crunchy taco things full of carrots and beans that are actually not bad. Rain busted me on the burger pre-eating when I planted a kiss on her mouth, so now I’m on the veggie bandwagon for as long as I’m riding the lunch-eating train with her. My monster cock will have to get his daily protein later—and I’ve added mouthwash to my bike’s saddlebags just in case any kissing opportunity comes up.

Lunch with Rain is kinda fun, even if she is a plant eater. We talk about stuff. Our days, sure, but also the little things. Like cat memes and movies and random crap we spotted on our way to the clinic. She’s still refusing to swap dirty fantasies with me, but I’m working on her. She claims it’s not “work appropriate,” but then clams up when I suggest an after-hours sesh in the parking lot.

Rain’s also big on what she calls “working off the food baby” and so usually we go for a short walk after we eat before she has to go back to examining baby bumps and I take off to do my thing. She likes the path along the bayou’s edge or anything with trees and lots of green shit. Probably a side effect of those plants she eats, but my wolf and I are in full agreement. Outside is always better than inside unless we’re talking about me getting my dick inside her pussy.

Today, however, I take advantage of an open closet to swing her inside before we can hit the door. It’s not the sexiest venue I could have chosen. For starters, there are shelves and shelves of what look like office supplies, stretching from my waist to the ceiling. For added ambience, there’s a photocopier shoved against the back wall, along with a couple of bright blue recycling bins. It’s no Four Seasons and my bed’s a way better choice for what I have in mind. On the upside, there’s just enough room for the two of us. And on the up-upside? She clearly trusts me just a little now because she goes with me.

Rain frowns at me as I shut the door behind us. “Why are we in a closet?”

“So I can kiss you.”

Duh.

It’s not like I’m jonesing to sightsee her office supplies. It’s pitch black in the closet and her breathing picks up just a little. She doesn’t have my night vision and it’s gonna take her some time to adjust. I run my hand down her arm, tangling my fingers with hers just in case she’s scared of the dark.

Her frown deepens, but she doesn’t pull away. “We’re standing in the dark.”

I can see just fine. Sucks to not be a wolf. “You kiss with your eyes open?”

She ignores me and tries again. “How does kissing help?”

I reach behind us and flip the lock on the door. It’s one of those cheap-ass doorknobs with a little switch. One good hit with my boot or my shoulder and the whole mechanism would pop open like a club pass-around dropping her panties and spreading wide. Both have their uses, but I want something more.

I give up trying to figure out what that is, however, and walk her backward to the copier. Since the room’s actually a closet, this takes no time at all. Just long enough for her to say no—which she doesn’t.

I wrap my hands around her waist and boost her up on top of the copier. She makes the cutest squeaking sound.

“I’m at work.”

Does the woman never read? According to books I’ve stolen from the girls at the clubhouse, workplace boning is a top ten female fantasy.

I step between her legs. “Is Dick Ex hanging around outside?”

“Seriously?”

“If you walk outside all mussed up and with sex hair, the man will have a coronary.”

Rain gapes at me. She definitely didn’t think through the whole faux boyfriend plan, which was clearly much more of an impulse than an actual thought out, coherent plan. That’s her problem, though. She can figure out next steps while I hold up my end of our deal.

Her ex would be on my to-do list anyhow because a guy who stakes out his ex-girlfriend’s parking lot while smelling of another woman has some serious issues that need to be resolved ASAP. While he probably thinks he’s harmless and he’s just upping his game in the romance department while he hedges his bets, it’s not cool. No always means take your sad, fucking ass somewhere else stat, which is a point I’ll be making to him with my fists.

“This is a bad idea,” Rain mutters. She doesn’t try to slide off the copier, though, and that’s all the encouragement that I need.

“It’s the best bad idea ever.” I tug her closer, sliding a hand beneath her to cup her ass. I totally should have dated around the medical profession before because I learn pretty quick that scrubs are thin. I find the edge of her panties with my fingers and trace the soft line. Might be boy-cheek panties. Might be a bikini. Definitely far too much coverage for a thong. I drag my finger over the line and amuse myself with the possibilities.

“I’m not sure.”

“Buzz kill.” I drop a kiss on her nose. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

And then she reaches up, throws her arms around my neck, and yanks my face down to hers. I think she’s still working partially blind because her mouth misses mine by inches, but I’m happy to help out. I fist her ponytail and redirect her lips.

“You think that’s enough?” She sounds dazed when I lift my mouth from hers.

“Lemme kiss you a little more, ‘kay?”

I should stop. I’m not a total asshole. She’s at work, she’s the lady boss, and getting caught in a closet with her biker boyfriend won’t help her professionally unless she’s looking for a career switch. Except I fucking love touching her and she’s not exactly discouraging me. I picked lunchtime too, so the office isn’t full of pregnant ladies waiting for their appointments and most of the staff has already headed out to pick up food or run errands.

So I pull free of her death grip, give myself enough room to work, and press a kiss against her collarbone. “Kisses are the best.”

You fucking hear the promise in my voice? Rain does too.

“Okay.” She grabs my head again, but that’s not the kind of kissing I have in mind.

The scrubs might cover Rain up from head to toe in bright, cheerful pink, but it’s like a candy wrapper. I can still make out her curves and I’m desperate to unwrap her. Before she can octopus my head, I drop to my knees, sliding her to the edge of the photocopier.

She clutches at my shoulders for balance. “Fang?”

“Shhh. Getting busy.” It takes me all of an instant to slide her legs over my shoulders and push the edge of her shirt up. It takes another, longer moment for me to appreciate my view. She’s gorgeous. I tease the soft curve of her belly with my tongue, loving the feel of her. She’s silky and sweet, which makes her number one on this big, bad wolf’s to eat list. Thank fuck for elastic waistbands. When I reach the top of her panties, I slide my tongue beneath the edge.

“We shouldn’t—”

“Should,” I whisper. “Say yes, baby?”

There’s a pause that feels like fucking forever. I rest my cheek against her skin and wait. Not gonna go where she doesn’t want me to go, but she’s killing me with the wait.

“Yes,” she groans. “But if anyone catches us, I’m killing you. Just so we’re clear.”

Works for me. I lift her ass with my hands, yank her pants off, and plant my mouth on her pussy before she can change her mind.

Fucking sweetest treat on the planet.

I open her up with my thumbs and lean forward. Lick her deep and slow, my tongue exploring, Christopher fucking Columbus going where he had no business going but bent on conquering anyhow. She tastes like all my favorite things and like something more. When I reach her clit, she squeals.

Not sure what she’s trying to tell me, but she sounds happy. She tears at my head with her hands, hanging on, steering my mouth this way and that. Rain’s got a few opinions about how I should eat her, and I’m happy to listen. Take direction well, too, because in minutes I’ve got her panting and making these breathy little moans. I lick and play with her hard, fucking her pussy with my tongue and my fingers as she gasps ohohohoh. We’re the best fucking symphony.

Her knees tighten around my head and I give her what she needs, pushing two fingers into her pussy and giving her something hard to ride while I suck at her clit. Nothing’s more important than finishing her. She tightens her grip on my hair—I’m gonna have to invest in Rogaine when she’s done with me—and pushes against my mouth. Once. Again. Then she freezes and I feel the little tremors starting beneath my lips and it’s a thousand, million times better than getting myself off.

She comes, riding my face, making all sorts of noises that I need to remember because nothing’s sexier than Rain letting go and trusting me to hold her. She’s not loud, but she doesn’t hold back, either. She tightens and clenches, pressing her pussy hard against my mouth until she sags backward. That’s okay. I’ve still got her. I get up, scoop her into my arms, and swipe her spot on top of the photocopier. Not sure it’s built to take our weight, but she’s gorgeous and I need to hold her.

Just for a moment—one of those instants. Whatever this is I’m feeling, it’ll pass. Probably just the side effect of all the blood abandoning my head and rushing to my dick. Nothing serious. Nothing… real.

I’m such a fucking liar.

Not sure how long we sit together (because I’m not gonna admit to cuddling) but eventually Rain starts wriggling in my arms and makes a grab for her pants. Since they’re on the floor, this shoves her naked ass against my rockhard dick and it’s my turn to groan.

“I have to get back to work,” she announces. Sounds fucking chipper too—guess she’s not the type to pass out after she’s come hard.

I set her down on the floor and she hauls on her clothes. Huh. Not that I haven’t done the same thing myself, but I hadn’t realized just how much it sucks, not being done with someone when that someone has already moved on. And I just don’t mean the sex stuff, although I’m dying to stick my dick in her and pound her hard.

“Thanks.” She sets her hands on either side of me—yeah, I’m still sitting on the stupid photocopier—and brushes a quick kiss over my cheek. My cheek. Of course, maybe that’s just because she knows where my mouth’s been.

Maybe.

Not sure what to say back, if I’m being honest.

Manners are always good, though, right? “Welcome,” I growl.

Think I might sound a little grumpy because she giggles—fucking giggles—and then she hightails it out the door. I don’t bother chasing her, because she does have to get back to work. I’m not gonna mess with her on that, but I’m not done with her. Not at all.

I stroll out of the closet, wearing a big grin and sporting a boner they’re gonna spot from space, it’s that big. Nope. I’m not gonna put my dick in her, not now, not until she asks. Might make her beg some, too.

After I make Rain squeal my name, I spend the rest of the afternoon sprawled in the cab of my truck, working on the next installment of Super Bad Wolf. Our favorite villain is pulling his usual evil villain super shit, delivering a smack down to the pansy-ass hero, when a girl pops into his panel.

I give her dark purple hair with a pink streak, a whole bunch of freckles in the best possible places, and plenty of spandex. Usually, I’d go for naked but that seems mean. Pretty sure it’s chilly based on the headlights she’s sporting, plus today’s fight is taking place in a parking lot and the poor girl doesn’t need to be prancing around naked there. She does some ass-kicking right alongside B.W., however, proving that she may look apple pie sweet on the outside, but girl’s got a naughty side.

I’m not sure who she is yet, but I’m having fun doodling her (heh) and B.W. seems to like having her around. I make her hot, too, with tits the size of watermelons because this is fantasyland and my readers love naked women because they’ve got awesome taste. By the time Rain finishes for the day, I’m so engrossed that I don’t notice her sneaking up on my truck until she’s reaching up through the open window to tap me on the shoulder.

“Hi.” She hops up onto the running board and leans into the cab. Her tits brush against my arm while her mouth finds my cheek for the second time today. I’m still in shock that I didn’t notice her coming, so I don’t react as fast I should. I try to remember if I’ve ever done the chaste, cheek-kissing thing but I’m drawing a blank. The only cheeks I’ve kissed are south of the border, if you get me.

It’s not bad.

I toss my drawing stuff onto the floor. Should I get down and open the door for her?

“Hey,” I say, a little too gruffly. Doesn’t matter because she’s already got two feet on the ground—unlike me—and she’s taking herself around the front of the truck. Inevitably she’s toting an enormous bag that looks like you could shove a week’s worth of dirty laundry or half a wolf pack in there. Palm trees and pineapples cover today’s bag. Maybe the size is an optical illusion? Fuck if I know.

Rain handles it like a pro. Baby catching must build muscle because by the time I’ve shaken off my daze, she’s already at the passenger-side door and my chance to be a gentlemanly faux boyfriend has passed. You snooze, you lose. I lean over and flick the door open, taking the bag from her and tucking it behind the seat.

Newly bag-free, Rain maneuvers herself up onto the seat. I like big tits, big beers, and big trucks, so she has to scramble to reach the seat. She’s got the funniest disgruntled look on her face as she takes my hand and lets me hoist her the last few feet.

“You need to install an elevator,” she grumbles.

I grin at her. “You’ve got me for the heavy lifting.”

“Phew.” She rests her head against the back of the seat. The tired look is back on her face. Her eyes drift closed.

“Rough day?”

She nods, eyes still closed. “We had two tricky pregnancies today and then my pre-lunch appointment describes all her food cravings in immense details. She’s putting peanut butter on liver and now I don’t ever want to eat again.”

“I’ve eaten worse.” I dig my thumbs into the knots at the back of her neck and rub.

“Like what?” She turns her head toward me, a smile touching the corners of her mouth. She has the longest lashes ever. I also discover a previously unknown freckle beneath her eye. I press a kiss against it and her smile deepens.

“Is Dickhead watching?”

For a moment, I don’t know what she means and then I remember. I make a non-committal noise and start kissing a path from the freckle to her ear, but she pulls back.

“Is he here?”

As soon as Rain hopped into my truck, I forgot about the dickhead. What kind of wolf am I? I focus on our surroundings, cataloging the scents and other presences I sense. Laney of front desk fame is on her way out. She uses a pomegranate and grapefruit body wash that makes her smell like a very pretty fruit bowl. I pick up two unfamiliar scents, one of which smells strongly of bacon and liver. That must be a patient with really bad pregnancy cravings. But the other scent... there he is, all Burberry and testosterone.

“Seven o’clock,” I tell her.

“Good.”

For someone who’s so sleepy she was practically comatose, Rain is fast. Her eyes fly open and she swings onto my lap, caging me between her thighs. She’s just a little thing, so it’s not like she can really pin me down, but I’m happy to let her try. My dick springs to attention, eager to wave a hello of his own. Her fingers tunnel through my hair as her mouth covers mine.

Her kiss is even better than I remember. It’s not long—which is a downer—but she’s thorough, covering every inch of my lips and licking, nipping, generally doing her best to come right on inside and say hi. Since I’m a big fan of being friendly, I open up and deepen our kiss.

She tastes good. Real good. I pull her into me, hard, as we kiss. My dick’s rockhard, begging to be let out of my jeans, and I’m seconds away from throwing her down and doing her in the front seat of my truck. Not my favorite place to fuck but I’ll make it work. I promise Rain’s gonna come and come hard.

She grinds on my lap, kissing me back. I’ve got my arms around her, one hand sliding into her hair and the other cupping her ass. Holy fuck, this is amazing.

She’s amazing.

Guess she’s not feeling what I’m feeling because she somehow manages to pull back. At first I think she’s just trying to stock up on some much-needed oxygen before diving back in. And breathing’s good. Overrated in situations like this one, but good. So I wait. I’m not a total dick, so she gets to call the shots here.

“Hi.” She smiles a little shyly at me. Her lips are all pouty and pink, making me want to lose myself in her mouth again.

And I know it’s all pretend and for the benefit of the dickwad freak camped out in his BMW. I should just kill the motherfucker—it would be a public service—but I like hanging out with Rain. She’s different from the girls I’ve met. I’m not ready to give her up yet.

Even if it appears we’re all done with the mouth-fucking for the moment.

I drop a kiss on her nose. “Hi yourself.”

We sit and stare at each other like that for a moment. I’m in no rush to get going—it’s not like there’s anywhere I’d rather be. Even naked doesn’t seem quite as… something… as this. Whatever. I mean, this is practically a lap dance except without the motion in the ocean. Of course I like it.

There’s a noise from outside the cab and Rain scrambles off my lap, almost kneeing me in the balls. Her gaze pings from one place to another as a hot pink blush crawls up her cheeks. I grin at her. She so likes me.

Her gaze falls on my abandoned sketchpad. “May I?”

I shrug and put the truck into drive. Playtime’s over. “You can do whatever you want. Address?”

“Go out. Turn left.”

While I get us on the road, Rain pages through my sketchpad. Bathroom walls aside, I’m not a fan of sharing my work, particularly not when my audience is inches away from me. It’s easier to ignore the haters online and at a distance. Usually, I don’t give a fuck about the reviews. Love me, hate me, it’s all the same. It’s hard not to wonder what Rain’s thinking, though.

She runs her fingers over the edge of the page. “You’re amazing. Where do you get your ideas from?”

I shrug. “Fuck if I know. They show up and I draw them.”

Rain nods and turns a page. Yeah. Probably should have given her a heads-up that B.W. is a very bad boy. He’s busy getting it on with a very busty fangirl. Rain laughs.

I reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear. “I’m always looking for a good research partner.”

She looks up and snorts. “I’m seriously not that bendy. Or that blessed in the boob department.”

“Your tits are spectacular.” I hold up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Not sure that’s the Boy Scout sign. Might be something from Star Trek or it could just be utter crap. I decide I don’t really care.

“You’ve never seen my girls.” Rain pats her goddamned boobs and grins at me.

“I’ve spent quality time imagining what they look like and I’ve got an excellent imagination.” I tap the sketchbook on her lap. “B.W. here might prefer quantity over quality, but he’s kinda dumb like that. I’m a fucking genius, and there’s only one issue I’ve got with your tits.”

“What’s that?” She glares at me, going all grumpy.

“You should totally lose the shirt. And your bra. Naked tits are the absolute, best kind. You know that food pyramid thing where they’ve got layers of fruits and vegetables and healthy crap and not a single Twinkie or sweet thing?” I pause until Rain nods. “If your tits were food, they’d be right at the top of the pyramid. Alright, I’m pretty certain they’re edible. If you lose the shirt, I’d be happy to test out that hypothesis.”

“Wow. You’re a total giver.”

“I’m a scientist. You don’t want to forget that part.”

“A scientist and an artist.” She grins at me. “So you do do something besides ride and commit felonies.”

“I fuck, too. Got to get that practice in, sweetheart.”

“These are gorgeous.” She ignores the fucking comment, although the tips of her ears turn pink, and leafs through the pages of the sketchbook. I keep one eye on her and one on the road. I should focus on driving—precious cargo blah blah blah—but Rain’s just too distracting. The sketchpad is my sandbox. It’s full of rough outlines, random thoughts and bits that I’ll work into the next book. Rough is the operative word here. I’ll scrawl whatever comes to mind here and re-work it later. It’s all naked selfie instead of Playboy shoot polished.

Rain doesn’t seem to mind, though. Her fingertip hovers over B.W. “Is he busy saving the world?”

I reach over and tap wolf guy. “B.W.? He’s the bad guy.”

“Huh.” She squints at the page. “Nope. He looks like a hero to me.”

Okay. So maybe Rain’s smarts are selective. Or limited to baby things. Because there’s nothing heroic about B.W. He’s big and rough and he stomps all over the frames, doing whatever the fuck he feels like.

“We should get your vision checked,” I suggest. “Probably shouldn’t be driving anywhere on your own.”

“He looks safe,” she says.

“Bad to the bone,” I argue. “Keep turning the pages. He’s about to star in a dirty foursome while the superhero gets on with saving the city. B.W. is completely ethic-free—work ethic, personal ethics, you-name-it ethics. Totally missing.”

“He’s strong,” she says. “He can do the right thing if he chooses.” And then she taps Super Hero Guy. “I bet he doesn’t get the girl.”

She’s definitely either crazy or has the worst taste in men. Seeing as how she’s sitting in the cab of my truck, it’s gotta be B. I’m hardly an improvement on her douchey ex. Since pointing out her taste issue isn’t gonna fly, I settle for asking a practical question, seeing as how we’re driving and a destination’s probably a good idea.

“You gonna give me your address or is it a state secret?”

I half-expect her to have me stop somewhere public. After all, she’s already got one crazy stalker, so she’s probably feeling a little gun shy. But she left-right-lefts me all the way to the outskirts of Baton Rouge where the houses get smaller and farther apart while the trees get larger and the gardens more rambly.

Rain’s place isn’t new or large or even particularly tidy. Given how organized she is, I’d have guessed that she lived in one of those houses where the front lawn is mowed into equidistant green strips and everything has been meticulously pruned at the right season and to the right height. Instead, this place looks like a garden center exploded. A few brightly colored metal chairs peek out of the greenery. There are plants stuck everywhere in a big, colorful jumble that’s barely contained by the white picket fence that lists like a drunk biker on a Friday night. Pretty sure she needs a dozen new fence posts and the next hurricane that tears up Louisiana will flatten the lot. I make a mental note to get my hands on a post digger stat. It would be a shame if she lost her flowers.

I pull into the gravel driveway. Once again, Rain hops down from the truck before I can pull a gentleman and lend her an assist. At least I get my hands on her ginormous bag first. I don’t know why she needs to pack enough stuff for a week, but she’s not carrying heavy shit. She’s got me to do that. She makes a face but doesn’t protest out loud. I count that as victory.

While I haul her monster bag, she bounds up the path before me, opening the waist-high gate and holding it for me. My balls appreciate the consideration, seeing as how it’s spiky as shit. Guess her secret plan is to impale any midnight intruders. I take away the taste of that unpleasant thought by meditating on Rain’s ass. After all, it’s bouncing and swaying up the path in front of me, and it’s hard to look away. She’s wearing scrubs, the fabric’s thin, and she’s got visible panty line. Possibly boyshorts. Maybe a pair of bikini panties? Definitely not a thong.

I’m definitely feeling a whole lot better when we hit the porch. Rain rummages in the monster bag for her keys while I hold the whole lot, doing my best Vanna White impression. Her house is as well-loved and lived in as her garden. White paint peels off the side in lazy curls. She has a pair of rocking chairs on the front porch and some crazy-tall pink flowers and purple foxglove. I’m no gardener but I learned the hard way about that particular plant as a pup.

“You know that’s a poison, right?” I point to the flowering spikes.

“Then you’d better behave.”

Rain winks at me, sliding her key into the lock and cracking the door open. I set her bag down. I don’t like the lack of a home security system or a really big dog, but I also don’t sense any threat. No intruders, no vampires or supernatural threats, no nuclear warhead about to detonate on her grass. Right now I’d sort of welcome anything if it gave me an excuse to stay.

Rain looks at the bag and then at me. “Too heavy for you?”

“You want it somewhere else?”

I reach for the bag. I’m a big guy and it still feels like she’s packing an arsenal in there. Not sure why she needs so much shit to get through a day at work, but not my business, either. I look at her expectantly.

Instead of answering, she steps inside. I follow because why not? She fucking makes me feel like a puppy again, all eager to please. Parts of me are also definitely bouncy. My dick’s decided the invitation to fetch her shit has a deeper, dirtier meaning, so he’s also up and ready to party. I should give him the smackdown, but Rain’s not even looking at me. Her gaze bounces around the room. I get it. I’m big and I’m in her space.

While she decides where she wants the bag, I do a little looking around myself. It’s a nice room. She’s passed on carpet in favor of hickory floors. There’s a brick fireplace painted white and a ton of books. A pair of pink-and-white striped armchairs are drawn up in front of the fireplace and piled with fur blankets. Fake. Even if my nose couldn’t tell the difference, two are purple and one is pink. I’ve never eaten anything that color in the bayou.

“Rain?” I jiggle the bag I’m holding. You know. Just in case she’s mistaken me for a coatrack or something equally wooden. Wood. Har-de-har-har.

Her gaze snaps to me, then travels down. Pretty sure she lasers in on my crotch and what’s going on there. My dick does its best to wave a vigorous hello.

She reaches out and gently tugs the bag out of my hand. It hits the floor with a thud as she tilts her head back. She’s holding my gaze, but her head’s ever so slightly tilted, her ponytail sliding away from the soft skin of her throat.

“You want to stay?” She steps closer, sliding her hands up my arms and over my shoulders. She’s near enough that I can feel the warmth of her body, the gentle up and down of her tits as she breathes. And then, just in case, I’m particularly dense, she leans up and kisses me.

The kissing makes it difficult to use my words, but somehow I don’t think she’s interested in anything I have to say right now. I should make this romantic, do something memorable, but instead I drop her shit on the floor, wrap my arms around her, and lift her up so she can kiss me better. She’s a tiny thing and I’m built on a larger scale. Fucking thoughtful. That’s me. Also? I know she appreciates this gesture because she wraps her legs around my hips and groans into my mouth.

Positive reinforcement totally does it for me. I kiss her back, eating her mouth like it’s her pussy. Her fingers pet my head, stroking over the back of my neck and tracing the ink that my T-shirt can’t hide. I should just ink a big arrow pointing down to my dick. Magic this way.

Rain deepens our kiss and I lose my train of thought. Fuck me but she’s amazing. Once she’s in, she’s all in. Her tongue spears into my mouth like she’s the Genghis Khan of kissing, raiding and pillaging. Taking no prisoners. I give it up, slanting my mouth beneath hers so she can take every last inch of me. We mouth-fuck each other, licking, nipping, setting each other on fire. I fist her pretty hair and hold on. Might pull her even closer.

Now here’s the thing: I’m an alpha guy. I do the leading. Dance floor, bedroom, check and check. Right now, though, I let her take charge. Just a little and just because this is her den. She’s invited me in and I want to stay more than anything. Everything is better with Rain, so much more, so something that I give up trying to figure it out. I’m not smart and I usually act on instinct. It’s gotten me this far, so I don’t see the need to change.

When Rain drags her mouth away from mine, she’s breathing hard. So am I. Fuck the space between us. I cup the back of her head with the hand that’s not holding her up and tug her mouth back to mine.

“Yeah,” I whisper against her lips. “I want to stay.”

I don’t know what’s made her change her mind about me—about there being an us—but something has and I’m just the wolf to take advantage of it.