Wolf Bait (Wolf Cove #1) (25 page)

He plants a contradictory peck on my nose, and then releases me. With a casual wave over his head, he heads out the door to meet the governor of Alaska. With an erection.

Leaving me with hours to kill.

~ ~ ~ ~

My eyes crack open to take in the low glow of the fire. It was burning bright when I made myself comfortable on the living room’s lush shag rug with a plate of squash soup and a raspberry mousse, courtesy of room service. How long ago was that?

Turning to check the clock on the wall, I gasp at the sight of Henry sitting in the armchair a few feet away, his tie undone, his shirt unbuttoned, his shoes kicked off, a crystal glass of amber liquid—alcohol, I’m assuming—balanced between his fingertips.

Simply watching me.

I move to rub my eyes, and then remember my contacts. That’s why my eyes are so blurry. Crap. I never planned on falling asleep. The rug was so soft, the fire so warm. “What time is it?” Darkness looms beyond the windows.

“Almost midnight.”

I allow a yawn to escape and then wince as I adjust my body. Every square inch of me is sore. “When did you get home?”

“An hour ago.”

I frown. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because I like watching you sleep. And because I needed time to think.”

Something in his tone sounds ominous. Is he second-guessing us? Or maybe that’s just my paranoia infiltrating my mind, creating issues where there aren’t any. That this is going to end eventually is not so much paranoia as fact, though.

I just don’t want that ending to be now.

Swallowing my panic, I make to crawl for his chair.

He holds up a hand, staying me.

I don’t know what to do or say, so I say nothing and sit quietly, watching him stare first at me, then at his phone.

Finally, he turns it around and shows me the screen.

It’s my profile shot, with the weak gust of wind blowing a few strands of my vibrant red hair. I’m peering off into the distance below, a faint smile touching my lips. I’ve never seen myself look like that. “That’s from today?”

“Hachiro sent me the shots he wants to put forward for the magazine, for approval. He included this one as a gift to you.”

“That was nice of him.” I feel bad for rolling my eyes at the little photographer now.

“I know. Maybe I should have agreed to those nudes after all.”

We share a laugh, but the silence that hangs in the air afterward is deafening.

“Is something the matter?”

His lips purse, but he doesn’t answer.

So I throw his own words back at him. “If this is going to work, we have to trust and be honest with each other.”

“My father says I make too many selfish, reckless decisions. Sometimes I wonder if maybe he’s right.” He carefully sets his phone on the end table. “You are such a wholesome, innocent girl. You’re a people pleaser. And you came here highly vulnerable. I saw that the moment I watched that video of you. I’ve exploited it.”

I struggle to keep my composure, to not jump to conclusions. But this is quite the turn of events. He left here at dinnertime promising to violate me when he got home. Now it sounds like he’s regretting the last couple of days. My stomach tightens at the thought of him regretting it.
I
certainly don’t regret it.

“Did you know that you wanted
this
then?”

“To fuck you? No.” He pauses a beat. “I fuck supermodels and CEOs. Women who tell me they want my cock five minutes into a conversation, and who don’t give a shit whether others approve. You can’t even get through a five-minute conversation with your mother without feeling guilty. You took me by complete surprise. I shouldn’t have acted on it, and yet I was too weak to control myself.”

“I’m glad you were.” I can’t help the tremble in my voice. None of this is what I want to hear.

He opens his mouth but falters. Instead of answering, he reaches for his drink. How much has he had tonight? Is that what this is about? Is he drunk and pensive? He’s not slurring, but I don’t know him well enough to judge that.

“I don’t know if this is fair to you. I’m afraid of how I might taint you,” he says, adding softly, “more than I already have.”

“You haven’t tainted me.” I plead for him to see it in my eyes, if he can’t believe it from my words.

He settles his forehead against his fingertips, and closes his eyes. “I’m not so sure.”

I don’t want this to happen. I don’t want him to take away the intimacy that he
just
gave me. “Well, then maybe I want to be tainted.” I can’t believe I’m speaking so brazenly, but if that’s what I need to do to get this afternoon’s Henry back, I’ll say and do anything.

Nearly a minute passes where we face each other but say nothing, where he struggles with his internal conflict. I can see it in his eyes. He hasn’t veiled it behind his usual mask. Finally he sighs, his jaw tensing with his hard swallow. “Fine. Take off your clothes.” The demand is made in a soft voice, and yet his gaze is hard as he simply sits there, watching.

I inhale deeply, steeling myself for what I want—to give Henry
everything
he wants. Pinching the hem of my shirt between my fingers, I slowly peel it off and toss it to the floor next to me. Henry watches with dark, hungry eyes as I reach back and unfasten my bra, letting it fall to my lap. My breasts spill out, my nipples already tight with anticipation. My chest heaves with my breaths. Climbing to my knees, I hook my thumbs under the waistband of my leggings and slide them down all the way to my knees, taking my panties with them, until I can take a seat on the floor and wriggle out of them semi-gracefully.

Leaving me naked on Henry’s rug by the fire, my heart racing. Waiting quietly for him. Still, he makes no move, simply assessing me from his vantage point.

It reminds me of a television program I once saw, of a lone wolf that sat quietly at the edge of a meadow, watching a doe graze. It looked as passive as Henry does now, sitting in that chair.

The doe’s tail and ears twitched; she knew the wolf was there, waiting, calculating. She knew she was in danger. And she also knew that there was truly no running from that wolf; that run or not, the wolf would end up devouring her. So she simply tried to enjoy the last few peaceful moments of her life, grazing in that field.

“Lie back.”

I do, resting on my elbows so I can still see him, flutters stirring in my stomach as I spread my legs, hoping to entice him over. His gaze over my slit is searing, and I feel myself growing wet.

“Touch yourself.”

“What?”
In front of him?
Unease slips down my back.

There is no hint of a smile touching his lips. “You heard me. Touch yourself like you did that night you made yourself come in your room, thinking of me.” When I still don’t move, he adds a softer, “please.”

I don’t know why I’m so shy about this after what we’ve already done, and how much Henry turns me on. I shouldn’t be. He wants this and he’s asking me for it. Swallowing my nerves, I lie back until my head rests against the rug and drag tentative fingers over my navel, stalling at the small strip of pubic hair left.

Closing my eyes, my cheeks flaming, I finally let my index finger slip down to brush first my clit and then lower down to my slick opening. As nervous as I am right now, Henry’s eyes alone make me wet. Or maybe it’s the depravity of this act.

Like a stealthy animal, he slides off the chair to land on the floor in front of me on his knees, his eyes raking over my naked body beneath him on the rug. “Don’t stop,” he commands, when my hand pulls away to reach for him.

He watches me as I draw slow circles around my clit. I desperately want him to undress but he doesn’t; he simply kneels before me, his lips parted, his steely gaze on my hand.

“You look sore. Are you?”

“Yes,” I admit in a whisper, because, as wet and turned on as I am, there’s no avoiding the aftereffects of today.

Finally...

Finally, Henry grabs hold of my slender hips and pulls me off the ground and up high, until my legs are slung over his shoulders and I’m staring up at him, his soft pants skimming across my sore pussy. His long tongue snakes out to take a swipe along my slit. “I should never have been so rough with you today. That’s what I mean about being selfish. I knew it was too much and I did it anyway.” He licks again, this time with a flat tongue, the warmth from it soothing enough to pull a soft moan from me.

My arms are splayed out on either side of me, his fingers digging in to my hips to hold me up, my back resting along his body, his hard cock pressed against my spine. It’s not the most comfortable of positions but I don’t care.

“Watch what I’m doing to you,” he demands, and I do, watching with fascination as his mouth opens and his tongue curls around and around my clit.

The moment I start to feel the build in my pelvis, Henry’s eyes flash with satisfaction. He somehow knows I’m close to orgasm. He guides my body down and, in with a few quick tugs and pulls, his pants are undone, his cock is out, and he’s pushing into me.

I cry out at the sudden pressure and the deep angle, with him still on his knees and my hips pulled up to meet him, but he doesn’t slow down, hooking his arms around the backs of my thighs and driving into me over and over again until I’m so wet that his thrusts become noisy with slick slaps. There’s something different about this time—the look in his eyes, the lack of words, the steely gritted tension in his jaw—that sets off an alarm somewhere in the back of my mind.

But I ignore it, unable to focus on anything right now but my euphoric high.

My orgasm comes on so suddenly that I’m not ready for it, and Henry is pounding against me so hard and fast that it’s paralyzing in its ferocity.

He follows only moments later, grunting rather than crying out, his muscular body straining beneath his shirt. The moment I feel the last jerking pulse of his cock, he pulls out and releases my body to slide down to the ground like a floppy rag doll, fully spent.

“Get dressed. I’ll walk you home.” He stands and heads immediately for the bathroom.

Leaving me lying naked on the white rug.

Feeling truly used for the first time, and not in a good way.

I struggle with my confusion as I pull my clothes on.

We walk in complete silence all the way to the staff village, two feet between us at all times and, when we reach cabin seven, all Henry says is, “See you at seven tomorrow morning.”

I stare after him until he disappears into trees and darkness, bewildered .

Chapter Twenty-Five

The morning sun is streaming through the window when I arrive at seven. Henry’s already dressed in his suit and at the desk, typing furiously.

“Good morning,” I offer, helping myself to a cup of coffee. Despite going to bed with tangled thoughts, my body shut down and did not want to restart this morning when my alarm went off at six. While I hoped I’d wake up having come up with some logical explanation for Henry and his severe swings in mood and intentions, all I woke up accepting is that I have no idea which version of Henry I’m going to get when I walk in today.

He finishes up what he’s doing and hits Send before offering a “good morning” back. His eyes settle on me through a sip of his coffee. “How are you feeling today?”

Because you abused my body yesterday?
“Fine.”

“Good.” He nods more to himself, a thought skittering behind those blue eyes. “I have a meeting with some people this morning, and my father and brother are arriving in the afternoon, along with droves of media flying in for tomorrow’s grand opening event. There will be a lot going on, and a lot of people will want my attention. It’s going to be a stressful time for me.”

“How do you plan on handling that stress?” I keep my tone neutral, though the implication is thick.

He offers only a tight smile. “Things will be different around here for a few days.”

I get his meaning.
Around here
means between us. I can’t blame him for that. “Just let me know how I can best help with the circus.”

“I will. Thank you.” His eyes finally lift to meet mine. I see worry in there. And something else. A touch of fear. “I can trust you to remain discreet, right? What we had—have—will stay between the two of us?”

“Of course.” My heart tightens at the past tense slip, but I blame it on his nerves. His mind is clearly wrapped up in something. I’m sure it has to do with his father, and all the media attention.

Finishing the last of his coffee, he stands to leave. Taking a few steps away, he stalls, then turns and walks back to plant a soft kiss on my lips.

“Everything will be okay.”

He gives me a tight smile and then heads out the door.

I guess I need to get used to this, with a guy as successful and important as Henry.

It’ll certainly keep things interesting around here.

With a sigh, I take the seat he just vacated and open his e-mail inbox. One of those “Confidential—Legal” e-mails sits on top. It must have come in last night, while I was passed out on the carpet. It’s no longer bolded so I know he has seen it.

I make to drag it into the Legal folder but I accidently click on it instead. I’m aiming the mouse for the “x” to close it when a name catches my eyes.

Kiera.

That name that both Belinda and those men that day around the table mentioned.

I can’t help myself.

Henry,

Kiera’s lawyer has informed me that she has decided not to sign and accept the settlement we’re offering. Her husband has persuaded her to file a civil suit against Wolf Hotels. She is also pressing criminal charges against you for forced sexual intercourse. We need to get PR involved for damage control ASAP, and discuss what the prosecutors may be able to dig up on similar indiscretions, etc. The media will eat this up. I haven’t informed your father yet. Would you prefer to do it?

Call me.

D.C.

I feel the blood drain from my face. Forced sexual intercourse? Damage control? Criminal charges? Similar indiscretions, etc.?

This can’t be about Henry. But it is. It says the charges are going to be against him.

With shaky fingers over the mouse, I scan the e-mails in the folder marked “confidential.” They’re all correspondence between Henry and some guy named Dyson, a Wolf attorney based on his signature. E-mails about paperwork for a settlement being delivered, and such. I scroll further back, to an e-mail from a month ago with an attachment for review.

I click on the attachment.

It’s a sixteen-page settlement offer to Mrs. Kiera Clayton, former Wolf Hotel employee, whose position was terminated three months ago.

Her position as Henry’s personal assistant.

And she’s being offered several hundred thousand dollars in exchange for her agreement for complete confidentiality, including discussion of any sexual relationship she may have had with her boss.

Henry M. Wolf.

I curl my arm around my stomach as it begins to churn, threatening to kick its contents out. “Oh God.”

What kind of man did I just get involved with?

To Be Continued in
Wolf Bite
.