FIVE Gryff
FIVE
Gryff
I should tell her I can’t be her boyfriend—fake or otherwise.
That thought keeps looping through my mind on repeat, but somehow the words never come out of my mouth.
The longer we’re in the store, the more she relaxes.
Her scent goes from having bursts of nervous, tart overtones to smooth and sweet, and the smile on her face gets more and more natural until finally I can tell she’s not having to think about it anymore.
And for some stupid reason, that has my wolf wagging his tail with pride.
“Am I weird? Because I’m having a really nice time.” She laughs softly and looks down, and somewhere in the back of my mind a red flag goes up at the way her cheeks color gently and she tucks a stray hair behind her ear.
“I’m glad one of us is.” I meant it in a good way, but the smile drops right off her face, and she looks away.
“Oh, my bad. You didn’t come here to escort me around the store and watch me pick paint colors, did you? What were you after?”
I want to tell her I am having a good time as much as I ever enjoy myself, but I’d rather not sour the mood further. “Mower blades.”
“Oh, that makes sense. Should we…” At that moment my nose picks up the musk of another alpha—is this town nothing but alphas?
I instinctively step closer to Honey. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open, and I swear her pupils grow larger as she trails off from what she was about to say like I’ve cast a magic spell.
Bracing my hand on the shelf behind her, I lean closer, watching in fascination as she tilts her head just slightly, as if offering me her smooth throat. “Should we what, Honey?”
I can’t help staring at her lips, wondering what they taste like. I’m wondering what each place on her whole body tastes like.
Not good. Really not good, only I can sense the other male approaching down the aisle, and all my instincts are screaming at me to cage her in, defend and claim her.
I mean, after all, that’s what I’m doing here, right? I’m pretending to be her boyfriend. Pretending is the keyword, no matter how much my wolf tries to twist that a different way.
I let my own musk grow thicker around us, strong enough to ward off the feline shifter who gives us a wide berth and a hiss as he passes.
Honey’s brows furrow. “We should…” It’s gratifying to know I’ve still got enough potency to affect her, I suppose. I haven’t used any of my alpha powers since… well since the war.
It’s dangerous, though. I need to make a mental note to be more careful. I can already feel her responding instinctively. Now that I know what I’m feeling, I sense her succubus side wake up. The pull between us grows stronger, urging me to step forward and press my body against hers.
It takes me a few moments to realize the other guy has gone into the next aisle. Shaking it off, I step back.
Honey blinks. “Wow. He just walked right past. I could feel the desire coming off him, but he didn’t even look at me.”
Yeah, the desire coming off him. I’m pretty sure what she felt was my desire raging like a fucking herd of wild buffalo, but I let out a short grunt. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“We should, um, we should find you some mower blades, right?”
I take her hand and lead her to the aisle where I grab what I need and stuff it in the basket. It feels far too good to have her small hand in mine, and she doesn’t complain, so I give my wolf that tiny indulgence, telling myself I’m just fulfilling the assignment.
My wolf is looking for any excuse to get up close and personal with her again, but apart from keeping hold of her hand, I restrain myself. At the checkout I swipe my credit card before she can even reach for her purse. She looks around at me with a confused expression.
I grunt. “No girl of mine pays for shit while I’m standing right next to her.”
She leans close as the cashier bags up her things. “You’re pretty good at this, you know. For a faker.”
The acknowledgment of what we’re doing here should be a relief, but it makes a growl rise in my throat. “I’m not. Just give it half a minute. I’m sure to disappoint you.”
I turn away before she can respond. I don’t want to watch her tie herself into knots to smooth over my awkwardness.
I walk her to her car in silence, any lightness suddenly spoiled. I don’t need her to think I’d be a good boyfriend, fake or otherwise. Except I hate the thought of letting her down. But if I do a good job, will she somehow get ideas?
This shit is just as complex as I feared.
When I’ve stowed her purchases in the trunk, I return to the driver’s side to find her waiting with the window rolled down.
It ruins the ruse to have drive here in two cars, but I’m not sure I trust myself to be alone in a car with her right now so I’m grateful.
I’m about to get into my own truck when she stops me. “Thank you.”
I lean forward, bracing my arm above the opening. “You should be more careful.”
The warm smile crumples, but only for the blink of an eye. I almost miss it.
Shit. Wrong thing to say, idiot.
No doubt she’s been struggling with assholes who can’t keep control of themselves her whole life, and here I go reacting like she’s somehow at fault.
Before I can apologize, she wrestles the bright smile back onto her face. “Babygirl, huh?”
I stare at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Back there. You called me babygirl. Is that what you call all your girlfriends?”
I flush and tug at my shirt collar. Is that what I said? It just sort of slipped out in the heat of the moment. “Well, I can’t call you honey, can I?”
“No one’s ever called me babygirl before. I liked it.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I say too loudly, before I look around to make sure no one noticed my blunder and lower my voice. “I don’t have any girlfriends.”
“Lady friends?”
Where is she going with this? “None of those either.”
“Huh. Well I guess I don’t have to be jealous, then.”
I’m still trying to figure out if she’s being genuine or if we’re still faking as she starts the ignition.
“See you at home, Daddy,” she calls through the open window.
I’m so goddamn shook that I stand there staring dumbly as she pulls out of the parking spot and drives out of the lot.
Fuuuuuuuuuck.
Just when I’ve gotten myself under control again.
I stand there with a boner like an old fucking pervert staring after this girl more than ten years my junior, wondering how many more times I’ll get to hear her call me Daddy before I’m forced to put an end to this fake-dating hoax.
I should have done it right then, but all I can think about is the throb, throb of my hard shaft where it presses against the fly of my jeans and how much I need those words on her lips again.
That and my name as she cums around my cock.
I’m in enemy territory now without a map or an escape plan. Problem is, I think I’m going to enjoy every goddam second of my downfall.