He let the sentence fade, and stared out into the night. The silence dragged out past seconds into minutes.
“Damned inconvenient, isn’t it?” I said finally. “That’s the problem.”
He glanced my way. I got up and perched on the edge of the coffee table.
“You’ve been on your own since you were sixteen,” I said. “Since your father died. There hasn’t been anyone. No lovers. No friends. No one you couldn’t cut ties with in a heartbeat…and wouldn’t kill if they got in your way. Then you joined the Pack, but you’re still ambivalent about that and tell yourself it’s a business arrangement and keep social contact to a minimum. Now you have me. Someone who might expect some kind of commitment from you in return, a commitment you might-horrors-want to give. Damnably inconvenient.”
He gave a hoarse laugh. “You can’t resist, can you? Even this you can turn into ‘Karl thinking about himself again.’”
“Am I wrong?”
He met my gaze, then turned back to the window. “Damn you.”
I crept to him, stood on tiptoes and kissed the back of his neck-or that was my goal, though I barely reached his collar. He glanced over his shoulder in surprise. I put my hands on his sides and leaned in, laying my cheek against the middle of his back.
“Remember when we met? Before you left, you said you were going to make a fool of yourself over me. That’s still what you’re worried about. That you’ll find yourself doing things you never dreamed of doing, things you laughed at in others, and you’ll make a fool of yourself.”
A sigh rippled through him. “You never cut me any slack, do you? You can’t find some unselfish motive, like that I don’t want to hurt you. Or even a romantic one, perhaps that I’m worried about having my heart broken.”
“A broken heart is just a fancy way of saying you’ve been made a fool of-that you opened up, let someone in, and they took advantage. As for hurting me, I’m sure that’s in there somewhere, but it’s not the driving factor.”
“Dare I ask what is, in your opinion?”
“That a relationship with me would not only be inconvenient, but potentially humiliating. After all these years of being happy on your own, why risk that for a relationship that might not work out?”
“Sounds like you’re trying to dissuade me.”
I kissed the back of his shirt. “If you can be dissuaded, I think you should be.”
“No. I don’t think I can.”
He turned, pulled me to him and kissed me. Then he waited. After a moment of silence, he sighed. “My grand confession, my soul laid bare, and you aren’t even going to throw me a scrap, are you?”
“If you’re waiting for me to say that the idea of being a werewolf’s chosen mate is incredibly romantic, maybe swoon at your feet…”
“Perish the thought.”
“Granted, my mother would be thrilled to see me hook up with someone, but a fifty-year-old werewolf thief might not be her idea of the ideal partner.”
“We won’t tell her about the thief part. Or the werewolf part.” A pause. “Or the fifty-year-old part.”
“If you ask me whether a fifty-year-old werewolf thief is my ideal partner, in my idealized life…”
“I suppose not.”
“Sorry.” I looked up at him. “But if you ask me whether it’s what I want, my answer might be different. No guarantees. But there’s a strong possibility.”
“I can live with that.”
He scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom.
LUCAS: 3
I WAS IN BED, waiting for the alarm to ring. Paige lay on her side, facing me, the blankets pushed down to her waist. She’d been naked when we’d gone to bed last night, but must have risen at some point, putting on a short nightgown to go downstairs. Now the nightgown was twisted, and one breast peeked from the curtain of long curls, straining to be free, thwarted only by that last half-inch over her nipple. It needed only a tweak of the silk folds to finish its escape. Most mornings I would have completed the rescue, then turned off the alarm and found a less jarring way to wake her. But last night we’d worked on a new spell, and while that might not seem the obvious excuse for my hesitation, Paige’s methods of spell practice are far from obvious.
Paige is as voracious a student of the art of spellcasting as I am. But that doesn’t stop her from livening it up with an extra twist. Last night’s added attraction had been a personal favorite of mine: strip spellcasting. Fail to cast the spell, lose an item of clothing. Given that it was a new and difficult spell, that first stage hadn’t lasted long, leading us-naked-to the second, in which at any sign of a successful cast, the “winner” receives a service from the “loser.” By the time we felt confident in our ability to cast the spell, we were exhausted, barely able to find our way to bed, and six hours later, I still wouldn’t consider myself fully recovered. That did not, however, keep me from enjoying the sight of Paige and even feel the first twinges to suggest I wasn’t as tired as I’d imagined.
She rolled onto her back, covers twisting until she was nearly free of them. The hem of her gown rode up one thigh, granting me a peek at the red lace panties beneath. The bodice had pulled even tighter, her breast now straining all the more to be free, her nipple poking against the fabric and making me decide that, indeed, I was quite recovered.
A gentle tug and the trapped breast was free, full and firm, the nipple still erect, begging for attention. First, though, I tugged the other side of the skirt up, until it was around her belly, the bright red panties on full display. I took a minute to enjoy the view.
My wife has a body worthy of the attention. Full, soft and generously rounded everywhere a woman should be rounded. I’m not usually aware of such things, but even on our first meeting, I’d noticed. At the time, if a fortune-teller had told me that one day I’d waken to this sight every morning, I’d have demanded my money back. So I can be forgiven if I do, now and then, like to wallow in my good luck.
I saw the clock preparing to flip to six and tapped off the alarm. Then I leaned down, tongue tickling over that waiting nipple. Her response was instantaneous, a low moan of pleasure. I took her nipple between my teeth, my tongue-
My cell phone blared so loud we both jerked up…fortunately without injury.
“Ignore it,” I said, pulling her back.
“No.” She reached over me, breast brushing my lips, then handed me my phone. “You answer. I’ll keep things going.”