Chapter 59 #2
“Of course not!” Emitt butts in before I can say as much. “He can’t when he’s the one who put the ban on.”
“Exactly!” I say, pointing at him. I eye him with renewed interest.
Emitt blinks at me before whispering, “You’ll have to seduce him.”
Beckett and I both choke on our lemonade.
“Seduce him?!” I wheeze, trying to clear my throat.
“He has to come on to you,” Emitt explains earnestly, “and you can’t make that happen without amping up the sex appeal.”
New discovery. Emitt Smith is incapable of feeling embarrassment.
“I don’t know.” I glance at Beckett, but he looks just as uncomfortable. “I don’t have any ‘sex appeal’ to amp up.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re like sex on legs,” Emitt declares so loudly that I have to bury my face in my hands. Beckett clears his throat.
“What?” he says. “It’s true. This’ll be easy.”
“So, how do you—” Dear Goddess, why didn’t I just stay home? “How would I do … that?”
“We’ve got options here,” Emitt replies without missing a beat. He holds up a finger, eyes utterly serious. “My first suggestion is lingerie.”
“What?!” I shriek, eyes almost popping out of their sockets.
“Here we go,” Beckett mutters under his breath.
“Hear me out,” Emitt says defensively. “I’ve known Aiden most of my life, meaning I was there for the horny bastard’s puberty years. We shared stuff like fantasies and mags and—”
“Dear Goddess,” I whisper.
“The guy has a thing for lingerie,” Emitt continues shamelessly. “Like, more than most guys.”
“I assume that was for women in lingerie. In case it’s not exceedingly obvious, Emitt, I am not a woman!” I whisper-shout.
“No shit,” he snorts. “It won’t matter. Male or female—you’re his mate. He’ll love it, trust me.”
I stare at him, mouth agape.
“You don’t have to get the bra,” he adds quickly, as if that helps. “Just knee-high stockings and matching panties, and you’re set. Bonus points if they’re black and got lace.”
“That was oddly specific,” Beckett mutters.
“It was his favourite kind,” Emitt dismisses before refocusing on me. “Sound good?”
“No, Emitt. No, it does not sound good,” I hiss, trying to wash lacy images of myself from my mind. “I can’t do that. I’m a man. I may be the one—” I stop myself as I shake my head. “I just can’t do that.”
“I’ve done it,” he says, and my head snaps up.
Emitt blinks back at me while Beckett stares at him in complete horror.
“I was the one who asked to do it after I saw my friend Mickey in them, but once Beckett saw those pink panties—wowie.” He shakes his head. “Let me tell you. This guy? He—”
“That’s enough!” Beckett says, covering Emitt’s polluted mouth before he can say another word. “Let’s keep that part between us, okay, donut?”
Donut? Emitt frowns but nods obediently, and Beckett slowly lowers his hand. He keeps his eyes focused on his lemonade, refusing to look at me.
“What are the other options?” I ask as I push my hair back. “Are there any more?”
“You can call him daddy.”
“By the Plains,” I pray, begging for an early departure from this realm as Beckett scolds his mate, yet again.
I always thought Emitt was just an overly-social, animated wolf who—sure—loved a good time, but was otherwise normal. I never would’ve suspected that a lustful tyrant was hiding underneath.
“So, about the daddy thing?” Emitt says, ignoring my and Beckett’s distress. “I’m not making this up. The guy has a secret thing for that. I don’t know where it came from, but he does.”
“I am not calling him that,” I spit, curling my legs under me, too mortified to look up now or possibly ever again.
“You give, and you get, Julian,” Emitt chides as if he’s the sane one in this situation. “Give in, and you’ll get some great sex.”
“Alright, enough,” I groan, scrambling to my feet. “Thanks for … whatever this was, but I’ll figure it out on my own.”
I try to bolt, but Emitt grabs my arm with a surprising amount of strength.
“There’s one more!” he says, eyes lighting up. “You should be able to do this one. In fact, you should be eager to do it.”
I frown at him, wanting to walk away, but … those green eyes gleam with mischief, and curiosity has always been my greatest downfall.
“You’re back,” Aiden shouts the second I open the front door.
“Yeah,” I call back as I stumble in.
I kick off my shoes at the door and drag myself into the kitchen, where Aiden’s already cooking up a storm. He glances over his shoulder with a smile—and I don’t think I’ve ever been more jealous of another person.
He’s just bursting with all the energy Emitt leeched from me, while I can barely climb onto one of the kitchen stools.
“How’d your talk with Emitt and Beckett go?”
My heart drops. I freeze mid-sprawl, tension creeping back into my shoulders. I just stare at him until he glances at me, confused.
“Emitt said you met up,” he explains, brow wrinkling. “Was I not supposed to know that?”
“Oh. No. I mean, it’s fine,” I reply, fixing a smile into place. “And it was fine.”
Aiden nods before turning back to the pot of ground beef he’s stirring.
“What are you making?” I ask, slipping off the stool to inspect it for myself. “I’ve never seen you make anything other than undercooked burgers.”
“Yes, you have. I make you veggie shit all the time,” he retorts, swatting me with the dish towel over his shoulder.
I duck with a laugh as I amble closer to peer into the pot that, admittedly, smells pretty great. Thankfully, there’s second beside it filled with vegetables.
“Don’t start that shit with me,” Aiden snipes. “You know I can cook.”
“Debatable,” I murmur against his ear as I lean against him, pressing in until I feel the subtle hitch of his breath.
Before Aiden’s seeking hand can slide around my waist, I slip away—but not too quickly. I move like I normally would. His weighted gaze lingers on me, but I act like I don’t notice it. At least not until I glance back.
He’s staring. I raise a brow, my expression plain. Wordlessly, he clears his throat before looking away.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I say, smiling at his tense back. “Food should be done by then, right?”
“Yup.”
I head for the bathroom, and don’t dawdle in there.
I shower fast, using his soap instead of mine—lathering it into every part of me until I reek of Aiden, until I feel like I’ve crawled out of his skin.
I towel off. Then, naked and determined, I throw shame out the window like my name is Emitt Smith and dig into our laundry bin.
For the sex. For the sex. For the sex.
I pull out a few of his shirts and rub them all over my skin, lingering on my scent glands.
It’s probably the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done—and that’s saying something, considering what initiated this whole sex ban in the first place.
Once I’m fully drenched in his scent, I throw on some boxers and a pair of his loose shorts.
Dressed, ready, and scented, I leave in search of the man himself.
“Need any help?” I ask as I round the corner into the kitchen.
Aiden’s mid-turn, reaching for the stove dials, so he barely glances my way. “Yeah, just grab some—” His head snaps back. This time, he really looks.
Most evenings after a shower, I walk around the house in a shirt and underwear because, well, I know my mate, and seeing my ass was a tease that usually got him into bed easily. But I tried that yesterday, and it didn’t work. So today, I’m flaunting another part of my body.
Being the one who usually walked around shirtless, Aiden’s gaze lags on my chest, heavy as a touch, before it drifts lower, trailing down to the defined V just above my low-slung waistband.
I fight the urge to shiver and stay perfectly still until his eyes finally snap away, landing firmly on anything but me.
“Grab some plates,” he manages after clearing his throat. “Just get some plates and a bowl for the salad.”
“Okay,” I reply, pretending I didn’t notice his little hiccup or the way he stalled.
I open the cupboards, grabbing two plates before I see where the salad bowl is. A grin spreads across my face.
It’s on the highest shelf. The one I can’t reach. Aiden can because his arms are just an inch longer than mine, not because he’s taller than me. It’s usually something that pisses me off, but tonight, I don’t think I could be happier.
“Hey, could you get the bowl for me? It’s on that stupid shelf again,” I say, feigning annoyance that makes Aiden chuckle before he saunters over.
I twist, making sure I’m facing his foolishly smug face as he stretches over me to get it. He opens his mouth, likely to say something stupid, but he’s finally close enough to smell me, and it slams shut.
He goes completely still. Then, as if gathering the nerve, he hesitantly sucks in a deep breath. A sharp, reverent inhale. He sways, leaning against me as if he’s lost all strength in his legs.
I smile to myself as his heart starts to pound.
Aiden’s told me on more than one occasion how he loves smelling his scent on me. I get it, because I love it when he smells like me too. I’m sure it’s a turn-on for most mated wolves, and it clearly is for Aiden because I can scent his arousal already.
“Um, Aiden?” I probe, going for confused as I press forward. “You okay?”
I act like I’m pushing us apart when really, I’m just pressing my leg up against his cock. He’s already hard.
“Y-yeah,” he stammers, hastily grabbing the bowl and shoving it against my chest.
He backs away, his lustful eyes raking down my torso, but I his pupils dilate.
“Are you sure?” I ask as I set the bowl down and push off from the counter. I eat up the space he tries to put between us, and press the back of my hand to his forehead. “Werewolves can get sick too, you know.”