The Wolf and His Wife (Wolf 2)

A few minutes passed before the three dots popped up on my phone. No.

My heart gave a slight thump in excitement. Do you want company…?

I always want to fuck—if that’s what you’re asking.

I didn’t just want sex. I wanted to spend time with him, ask him about his day. I wanted to share a bottle of wine and run my fingers through his dark hair. I wanted connection, intimacy.

I went upstairs and stepped inside his bedroom.

He was sitting up in bed, wearing just his sweatpants as his powerful back leaned against the headboard. His ankles were crossed, and his bare feet reached toward the end of the bed, athletic with a prominent arch. Every feature he possessed was somehow masculine, somehow sexy. An iPad was sitting in his lap, and his eyes were glued to the screen like he was reading something.

I shut the door behind me and stepped inside.

He finished reading whatever held his attention then he lifted his gaze to meet mine. His hair was still styled from his shower, and his jaw was clean from his shave. He watched me with those eyes that reminded me of a hot cup of coffee on a cold morning. They were penetrative, intimate. He set aside his device without taking his eyes off me.

I moved to the other side of the bed and stripped out of my clothes, keeping my panties on.

His eyes trailed over my body, examining the curve of my tits and my waistline. He seemed to like the white color of my underwear, the way it matched my pale skin. His eyes were focused on me, slowly turning from calm to intense.

I pulled back the sheets and slipped into bed beside him. The second my body softened into the mattress, I felt comfortable. The mattress was probably identical to the one I had in my bedroom, but his felt so much better. With my body turned on the side, I looked up at the beautiful man who hadn’t taken his eyes off me.

He finally scooted down then turned over, his head resting on the pillow right beside me. He didn’t ravish me right away, taking his time as he undressed me with his gaze. His cologne was fragrant, the scent that made ovaries melt.

My hand moved to his chest, and my fingers pressed into the area where two slabs of muscles met right in the center. Slowly, my hand explored until it found the drumbeat of his heart, the gentle thump as his body worked to stay alive. He was warm to the touch, scorching hot. My eyes followed my movements, appreciating all of his beauty. “How was your day?”

“I thought you came here for sex.”

“I did. But I still want to know how your day was.”

He turned contemplative, like he considered ignoring the question. “I had a lot of shipments go out today. Some of my wheels have aged to perfection, and now everyone wants them. They had to be loaded onto the truck for delivery.”

“You help with that?”

“No. I just make sure it gets done. I have foremen who help with management, but my father taught me that if you want things done right, you have to do them yourself…and he was right.”

My fingers glided down to his hard stomach, feeling the hard grooves. “Have you spoken to your father?”

“No. And when I do, I know it won’t be pleasant.”

“Have you considered reaching out to him? You know, soften the tension.”

His eyes were nearly the color of his hair, deep brown. His tanned skin reminded me of olive oil, so stunning. “Softness is weakness in my world. It’s essential to be respected—especially by your enemies.”

“Your father is your enemy?”

He gave a slow nod. “Unfortunately.”

“I hope it won’t always be that way.” Especially since I was the reason they were pitted against each other. The last time they were in the same room together, it seemed like one of them was going to die.

If he was still angry with me, he didn’t show it. “My father is stubborn.”

“Only because he’s upset. He’s not thinking rationally.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I wished there were something I could do to repair the damage between them, to bring father and son back to the same side. Caspian was despicable, but he was still Maverick’s father. I wanted them to have the relationship I had with my father…to be close. “What’s your sister’s name?”

A slight reaction took place on his face, a dilation of his eyes. He wasn’t as relaxed as he was a moment ago, the subject making him tense. He’d never talked about her before, only mentioned her in passing. “Lily.”

“Pretty name…”

“She’s a pretty girl.”

My lips slightly lifted into a smile, moved by what he said. “You two are close?”

His eyes dropped. “We’ve gotten closer since my mother died. Dealing with our father made us allies. We’re both hardheaded and stubborn, so we didn’t always get along. But you know what they say, tragedy always brings people together…”