eighteen
WOLFE SMILED AT the woman across the table. This was their official third date. The one that tipped the scales into sex . . . or not sex. So far, Brit was screaming yes, and he was glad.
Yep. Real glad.
Gen's date was tomorrow night. They'd already discussed the mechanics of disappearing for the night, so he was set to bring Brit to his apartment in Manhattan and get his groove on. The cheap cliche sounded garish in his head. Maybe he should stop thinking so loud to himself and concentrate on his date.
She was gorgeous. Not too made up. Long, dark hair sleek and straight. High, full breasts. A tiny waist. A bit slim, but most women he dated now were. Everyone was terrified of having some hips and ass on display, but it was the frickin' magazines' fault. In Europe, a full-figured woman was coveted. He wished it would come back to the U.S.
She smiled back and he noted her gleaming white teeth. Oh yeah, definitely bleached. No one's teeth were that naturally bright. "I'm so glad you finally called, Wolfe. I had a great time at lunch and was looking forward to getting to know you better."
Her gaze dropped a bit lower. It was well rehearsed. Very different from Gen's shocked and fascinated look when she got a peek at his intimate piercing. He didn't think he'd ever get over the way her eyes widened and sheer want transformed her features. Had he ever viewed such a naked hunger from another woman? Someone who knew who he was and wasn't categorizing his body as a separate entity?
He forced his thoughts away from Gen and concentrated on his date. "I had a good time. Was looking forward to seeing more of you."
"How much more?" She tilted her head in flirtation.
"A lot." His words were automatic, but he figured his body would follow. He needed an outlet desperately, and though he'd hoped there could be a bit more with Brit, something was telling him one night would be enough.
"That could be arranged," she drawled.
He never missed a beat. "Then maybe we should get the check."
She didn't argue. Just raised a perfectly arched brow and smiled wider. He got the bill from the waiter, paid, and escorted her out of the restaurant. She chattered about work, about Purity, about her father and the expectations people had of a woman in a male-dominated industry. Another time and place, he might have enjoyed her sharp intellect and polished demeanor. In a way, they were both the same, cut from the same cloth. They'd worked hard for their success, enjoyed physical intimacy and good dialogue, and were open for what happened next.
Too bad everything seemed flat lately.
But it didn't matter. As long as Brit knew the deal, he was not going to feel guilty. He'd been without sex for over three months and was reaching the breaking point. "I'm heading back to my place." Wolfe paused. "That okay with you?"
Brit turned and winked. "Yes. I just have to get up early for a presentation tomorrow."
Dread curdled in his stomach. He'd been hoping to avoid a sleepover. Things got . . . intense in the morning. Either it was too forced, in the hopes of a casual, breezy good-bye, or the awkward silence slowly killed him, knowing it was over for him but not for her. Hell. He respected Brit and she deserved more than a quick lay and a push out the door. When had he gotten so cold? So good at staying distant from everyone, whether or not he gave his body?
A chill enveloped him but he refused to think about it. How many times since that fateful night did he give his physical body but never any part of him inside? He was broken. Nothing would fix him, there was no magic formula of love or healing, but he could give pleasure, give honesty, and be kind.
Maybe that was all he had left.
He pulled into his assigned space and opened the car door. Led her upstairs, past security, up the elevator, and down the hallway. She kept talking, oblivious to his growing tension and confusion. He'd done this a thousand times before. Just because he was living with Gen didn't mean he couldn't do what he needed, give in to the raw urges of his physical body to finally sleep without dreams. He had to have the release.
Wolfe eased into automatic host. Got her a glass of wine and sat down on the couch. He made appropriate noises for her comments, looked into her eyes, and engaged in conversation. But his mind drifted, away from his condo and back to Verily.
Back to Gen.
Brit finally set down her wineglass and moved in. Her hands stroked his hair, tilting her head in a flirtatious manner that made her hair slide over her cheek and cover one eye.
Gen's curls did it naturally, without any pretense, but he wasn't thinking about that right now.
"I've wanted you for a long time," she murmured, leaning in.
"Me, too. Brit, you know I don't do long-term, right?"
He hoped for a shocked look, pure indignation, maybe a slap. Instead, she laughed softly. "Baby, I don't have time for long-term. Don't get ahead of yourself. But tonight I'm all yours."
"That's all I want."
He kissed her. Waited for the snap of desire, or at least a stirring from below to let him know it was going to be fine. He got . . . nothing. Of course, it was only a kiss, and maybe he needed to up the game in order to get his anatomy interested.
His tongue moved inside her mouth. She tasted like rum, and had a sharp, tangy scent that overwhelmed him. Her body was extremely thin and sharp, so her bones hit his muscles when he moved closer. Wolfe concentrated on letting his instincts lead, determined to wring as much pleasure from this night as possible.
Brit moaned and jiggled her breasts. "Oh yeah, baby, give it to me."
He frowned. Give it to me? A bit practiced, maybe, but usually it would turn him on. Why wasn't he turned on? Wolfe worked harder, sliding his hands over her body and pulling her closer. All the components worked well separately, but once he put them all together there was no heat.
Just an empty buzzing.
Cursing under his breath, he broke the kiss. Her lips were ruby red and parted. Her eyes darkened and she stood up, pulling him with her. "Let's go into your bedroom. I want you to fuck me hard. Take me however you want. I'm yours."
The words would usually thrill. He needed to lose himself in sex and the moment. But Wolfe realized nothing was going to help tonight. He could fake it, and force an orgasm, but it would make him feel dirty. And he'd promised years ago he'd never make himself feel that way again.
The choice gave him pause for only a moment. No. He refused to wake up the morning steeped in shame because he lied. He lied enough without heaping more on his soul. Wolfe teetered between faking a sudden stomach bug or dealing with feminine wrath. Once again, honesty won out.
"Brit, I'm so sorry. I can't do this right now. My head's not on right."
She never paused, just strode over and gripped his soft dick between her hands. "Not your little head I want right now, babe," she drawled. He winced at her roughness. "I'm more interested in your other one."
Awkward.
He slowly and deliberately removed her hands. "That one isn't working well tonight. Listen, I'm sorry I led you on." Ah hell, a little lie wouldn't hurt. "I'm not feeling too well."
She frowned. "Need to use the bathroom? I can wait."
Ugh. Wolfe shook his head and grabbed his phone. He tapped out a text for his Purity driver to pick her up and take her home. "No, I think this is gonna be a long night. I really need to be alone. I'll have my driver meet you out front."
She cocked her head and considered. Probably realizing the combination of rejection and bullshit lies. Finally, God smiled upon him and she nodded, grabbing her purse. "Sure. I don't want our first time to be memorable that way. I'll catch you next time?"
"Absolutely." Okay, so he had chickened out, but he couldn't deal with the whole talk thing right now. He'd tackle the dialogue next time they saw each other. She didn't kiss him good-bye. Just winked and strode out of the condo with a practiced swing of her hips.
Wolfe let out a groan of relief.
Blessed silence settled in. He brought the glasses to the sink, glancing around his place.
Why did the space feel so empty? Usually he liked the simplicity and no-nonsense decor. He thought of his apartment as a good location to decompress, spend time alone, and refuel for work. But it never felt like home.
Gen's place did.
Was it the bungalow? Charming decor, bright colors, crooked pavement, and stuck windows lent an aura of charm. Or was it Gen? The way she exploded from room to room in a rush of activity, scattering her belongings and scent in a trail? The way she liked the television and music loud? The OCD habit of alphabetizing her books by author's last name?
He rubbed his forehead. Things were getting too complicated. He might not be bedding Brit tonight, but Wolfe needed to make sure Gen believed he had. They needed the distance and reminder they weren't lovers. He'd sleep here tonight, say nothing about his date, and let natural conclusions do the speaking for him. Technically, it wouldn't be a lie.
The image of Gen standing before him in soft cotton, damp skin, and no panties slammed through his mind. His dick rose to full attention, and Wolfe groaned. He needed release, and there was only one way to do it.
He closed his eyes, unbuckled his pants, and stroked himself to a shuddering orgasm with Gen's name hovering on his lips.
"IT'S GONNA HURT."
Gen lay down on a padded bench, her rear up in the air and her pants resting on the lower part of her hips. A bit intimate but not much she could do. Gen looked into her friend's worried face and patted her hand. "I'm used to needles. I got this."
Kate bit her lip and averted her gaze from the whirring instrument inches away from Gen's skin. "Do you need alcohol?"
"No drinking in my shop," the artist interjected. He wore leather pants and a black T-shirt, and had long, braided dark hair. His ink was all black and detailed the stations of the cross on both arms. Fascinating. Verily's only tattoo parlor sat at the edge of town. The owner was the nephew of Tattoo Tony from a small shop in Marlboro whose claim to fame was once having detailed Cher's famous ink on her rear. "No refund on tats, so sober customers only."
Gen laughed at her friend's withering stare. "Fine. Just make sure you're not looking at her naked ass," Kate whipped back.
The artist rolled his eyes. "Lady, you wouldn't believe some of the places I put tats. There's nothing I haven't seen."
Gen spoke up. "Sorry, just ignore her." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Not you, too? You should've seen Arilyn with Officer Petty. She turned into a raging bitch."
"Our Arilyn?" Kate asked in amazement. "Impossible."