Chapter 8
8
CONNOR
I’m not hard from touching hand.
I am not hard from touching her hand.
I am a gentleman, and that would be obscene .
I can hear Ace laughing at me hysterically in my head, delighted that this woman is slowly chipping away at my control.
Don’t fuck this up, he warned me, or I’ll never forgive you.
I’d never forgive myself.
I hold the passenger door open for her and can’t help but buckle her in once she takes a seat.
I’m finding any excuse just to be near her.
That sweet smell of cookies blooms around me, and I have to swallow down saliva due to how much my mouth is watering.
It’s not just because her scent is addicting—it’s because I want to bite her, too.
I feel like a vampire, desperate to sink my fangs into her and just claim her as mine.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, horrified at my inner thoughts.
I am polite . I am a gentleman .
“I like the way you drive,” Devyn observes, and I can feel her staring at me.
“You do?” I ask. I check the speedometer. I’m above the speed limit, but not too much.
I’m just driving normally.
“You don’t drive like a douche,” she announces. “You have a nice car, but you’re not trying to race everyone or rev your engine or any of that awful stuff. I can’t stand that sound.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Well, no one’s complimented my driving before,” I chuckle. “Are you normally in cars with people that drive like that?”
A disturbing thought hits me. Who would drive recklessly and put her in danger like that?
Her boyfriend wouldn’t, right?
Ben doesn’t seem like that kind of guy, but I could be wrong.
“I grew up near a busy street, and people were always racing,” Devyn says, interrupting my train of thought. “I mean until, like, four in the morning. I couldn’t sleep at night, and then I would go to school and fall asleep at my desk. It was horrible .”
I glance at her while we’re at a stoplight, and she shudders, as if reliving a painful memory.
“I don’t plan on driving like a douche,” I reassure her. “And I can promise you no engine revving.”
She sighs. “Good,” she says, and all is right in the world again.
It’s disturbing how much I already hate the sight of her being unhappy.
“So, where did you grow up?” We’re on the freeway now, around half an hour from the restaurant, and I don’t want her to stop talking.
I want to find out everything about her.
Then I want to put all the information on flashcards and memorize them.
But there’s no response from Devyn for a long time, and her gaze is distant as I glance at her.
Don’t fuck this up, idiot.
“A couple of hours from here,” she murmurs, her voice sounding far away.
I don’t push. There’s something about that question that doesn’t sit right with her.
So instead, for the next twenty minutes, we keep the conversation light.
I usually hate small talk. I only use it when meeting business acquaintances or attending social events.
Ace hates it as well and doesn’t bother to do it at all.
But Devyn makes conversing entertaining, even if it’s surface-level. There’s an element of excitement and meaningfulness to everything she says, and it’s endearing.
By the time we arrive at the restaurant and the valet takes my keys, I’ve learned a few things about her.
Her favorite color is pink, she hates loud cars, she is obsessed with scented candles, and she has a strong loyalty to the people she cherishes.
It’s all so fucking cute, a word I never use.
Yet it suits Devyn. She has an infectious passion for life, and it’s impossible to not want to be around her.
It appears the valet driver feels the same.
“Enjoy your dinner,” he says to her, and she gives him a polite, beaming smile.
I would like to give him a beaming black eye, and I think he notices it by the way I shoot daggers at him while he hurries away.
Then I catch Devyn looking at me curiously, and all my frustration melts away.
The valet driver doesn’t get to have a date with her.
I do.
And it will be the first of many; I just know it.
* * *
“Oh, come on,” she says over a mouthful of bread. “Nothing should taste this good.”
It’s the third time she’s said it, but she’s been complimenting the restaurant nonstop since we came.
Ace and I picked out the restaurant together. I pulled up the top ten restaurants within an hour of Isleton, and Ace went down the rabbit hole of looking up negative and positive reviews for each place.
This French-inspired restaurant was the winner. Floor-to-ceiling windows give a welcoming view of their gardens, and the lighting is dim, with the tables intimate and far enough away from each other for deep conversations.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say, grinning at her enthusiasm.
“I do get a little overexcited at times,” she adds. “I’m warning you now. Sometimes I’m too energetic or get told I overexaggerate a lot. It might be too much for you.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to worry about that with me,” I tell her.
She quirks her lip and looks away. “But I’m excitable a lot, Connor. Even without caffeine. So, if it gets to be too much, tell me.”
There’s a hint of shame in her voice, and I don’t like it at all.
“Why would I stop you from being yourself?”
She chews her lip and stares at the piece of bread on her plate. “It’s not that. I mean”—she shrugs—“I used to be told that I was too loud or too emotional sometimes. So I sometimes warn people beforehand, but it’s a habit I’ve been trying to break.”
Emotions flood through me. Rage at whoever made her feel that way, frustration that I can’t fix it, and sorrow that she would ever second-guess her worth.
“I know this is our first date,” I say slowly, and she looks at me curiously, “but I would strongly recommend that you never, ever apologize for who you are or give a disclaimer about yourself.”
Devyn’s eyes sparkle, and she nods. “Ben has said the same thing,” she says. “And I try not to, but…old habits, you know?” She gives me a reassuring smile. “Does that mean I can be as loud as I want now? What if I scream so loud that the restaurant kicks us out?”
I shrug. “Then I guess we’ll have to find a new restaurant. Also, it wouldn’t be the first time.”
She gives me a curious look. “What?”
“Ace has gotten us kicked out of plenty of bars and restaurants in the past. You may think you’re a lot, but Ace is something else, and I love him just the same.”
Devyn gives me a full grin, uncertainty no longer marring her features. “He sounds fun.”
I raise an eyebrow. “If by fun, you mean legitimately crazy, sure.”
But I’m grinning, too. I can’t stop smiling around Devyn, and when we discuss Ace together, it makes my chest ache.
“I met him a few days ago. I think he liked me,” she says softly.
I nod. “He did.”
I don’t bother to add that once he got home that day, he begged me to fuck him, rock hard from meeting her. I don’t tell her that he sank his teeth into a pillow when he came all over the couch, moaning out her name while I pounded into him.
“I think you’ll like Ben,” she adds. “I know you only talked for a few moments, but I think when we all get together, you’ll get along really well.”
“It’s obvious how much he cares for you. I already do,” I admit. “I have a good feeling about him, just like I have one about you.”
There is one thing I haven’t mentioned to her, though. I know her boyfriend is a detective, but he’s only worked within the Isleton police department from what I’ve researched.
Hopefully, Ben doesn’t know Ace by his legal name.
His life of crime is behind him, and as far as I know, he was never in any trouble in Isleton.
If he was, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Our first course arrives, and her eyes widen when she sees the soup bowl. She takes a bite and turns bright red, covering her mouth with her hand.
“That good?” I murmur, amused.
“I need the recipe right now ,” she growls, and once again, I grin like an idiot.
I haven’t smiled this much since my first date with Ace, and after that night, I was already half in love with him.
I am so fucked.
* * *
“You really grew up in Stone County?!” Her bright eyes are as wide as saucers, and she pauses mid bite on her lobster tail. Butter drips from her fork down to the plate as she gapes at me.
Dinner has gone fantastic so far. Devyn is easy company, and I find I keep wanting to talk with her.
When she looks at me, there’s genuine interest in what I have to say.
Even though I would argue she’s the far more interesting person, as I hang on to whatever scraps of her life she wants to offer me.
I shift in my seat at her question and shrug.
I’ve always felt strange talking about my background. I’m well off and am extremely fortunate to have grown up comfortably, but it still makes me feel like shit sometimes.
Ace grew up dirt poor and fought for everything he had.
And I was just… given it.
Born into luxury in Stone fucking County, the richest area on the West Coast.
“I did,” I answer. “But as soon as I could, I got out of there.”
She places her fork down. “Why? I would have died to grow up there.” There’s a hint of longing in her tone, and guilt weighs heavy in my chest.
“It was a nice place,” I say carefully. “But I didn’t really fit in.”
“Really? You seem well adjusted to me.”
I chuckle. “You didn’t know me back then. I was the shy, nerdy kid. There were expectations if you grew up in Stone County, but I didn’t meet them.”
She furrows her brow. “What kind of expectations?”
“The normal kind. Be great at sports, be a perfect student, go to the best college.”
“What about your parents?” Her eyes widen. “Did they expect that of you?”
“They were great,” I admit. “I mean, they still are great. I just…didn’t fit in. So, I left.”
She looks down at her soup, and I have the sense that something I said upset her.
“Do you still talk to them?” She picks at her food with her fork, still staring at the plate.
“I do. Probably not as much as I should.”
“You should talk to them more,” she murmurs. When she looks back up at me, her expression is as bright as before, as if the sudden shift in her mood never happened.
I want to know why, but I won’t push her. I can’t, not after her reaction when I asked her where she grew up.
Don’t fuck this up, Ace scolds in my head.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say carefully. “Maybe I’ll call my mom tonight.”
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes anymore. Instead, it looks forced, and I want to know why.
Just tell me, sweetheart. I’ll listen, I promise.
“And no siblings, right?” she asks after a sip of water.
“No siblings. Only child.”
“An only child in Stone County,” she repeats, her tone wistful. “I can’t even imagine.”
I’m dying to ask her more about her life.
I want to tell her I’ll buy her a ridiculous house right now in Stone County and move her there if only to see her eyes light up again.
“I don’t have biological siblings, as far as I know,” she says. “I consider Skylar and April to be my sisters, though. They’re my best friends in the entire world.”
I met April once before at a gala. I remember she was flustered trying to handle Donovan Axton, the grumpiest man I’ve ever met.
Apparently they’re packmates now, so it worked out.
“They taught me how to bake,” she continues. “They taught me everything, honestly. I didn’t have many skills before I met them.”
I furrow my brow. I’m not liking the way she talks about herself.
Apologizing for her personality? Not giving herself credit for what she accomplishes?
“I doubt that,” I counter. “It’s obvious you’re a fast learner.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You memorize little details of things that most people don’t. You gave me the history of candles earlier,” I remind her.
She barks out a laugh, loud enough that the table near us glances at her.
I love it.
“You mean I info-dumped on you?”
I shrug. “Sure. But you’re excited about it, and that’s what makes it interesting. You’re so passionate it makes me want to be interested in it, too.”
Her grin is breathtaking. The sparkle is back in her eyes, and all is right in the world again.
“Most people aren’t that excited about anything in their lives, ever. And suddenly I give a shit about candles.”
“No, you don’t.” She giggles. “Name the different kinds of wax, then.”
“Paraffin, soy, beeswax, and coconut.”
Her jaw drops. “You were listening!”
“Your joy is infectious, sweetheart. I mean it.”
The nickname slips out before I can stop myself. Her beautiful face turns pink, and a rush of sweetness hits me.
It’s the scent of her arousal.
Don’t fuck this up.
“Sweetheart is my favorite pet name,” she murmurs, her pupils widening.
“Then I’ll have to call you that more, sweetheart.”
She swallows, her delicate throat bobbing.
“Any other names you’d like me to call you?” I continue, eyeing her carefully. “Baby, princess…anything else?”
She shifts in her seat and clears her throat. “Those work,” she says quietly.
I’m rock hard in the restaurant.
I’m tempted to give the waiter my card now and whisk her out of here, but dessert is next, and I’m not going to make her skip out on the vanilla custard that made her eyes go wide when she read it on the menu.
“Then I’m happy to call you all of those, baby.”
She’s visibly flustered. She toys with a lock of her hair, twirling her curls in her fingers while she blushes.
“Connor,” she whispers, and my cock twitches when she uses my name.
“Yes, princess?”
She lets out a breath. “I…I think we should leave soon.”
“After you finish dessert.”
She chuckles nervously. “Can’t argue with that, I guess.” But her voice is breathy and low.
As if on cue, the dessert arrives. Caramelized sugar wafts in the air, mixing with her honeyed arousal, and I adjust myself quickly under the table.
I need to get a grip.
This is ridiculous.
I’m about to bust in my pants just from watching her eat dessert.
When she brings a spoonful of cream to her mouth and her eyes close in bliss, I clear my throat and look away.
I focus on the chandelier above us and count the little crystals that make it up.
She continues to make sweet, satisfied noises from her dessert, and counting suddenly isn’t fucking working.
Ace is laughing at me hysterically in my head.
“Are you okay?” she asks around a spoonful.
“Fine,” I reply gruffly. “How’s the dessert?”
She licks her lips slowly. “ Delicious ,” she groans.
Oh, fuck.
How are candles made, again?
“It’s actually simple, Connor! You measure the wax, melt it, add fragrance, pour the wax, then make sure to stabilize the wick…”
There’s the clatter of a spoon and it snaps me out of my stupor.
“Connor?” Devyn’s sweet voice interrupts my attempt to kill my erection.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
Her grin is wicked and knowing, and her eyes sparkle. “I’m ready to go now. Unless you want some?”
Some of you, yes .
I clear my throat. “No, I’m good.”
I practically flag down the waiter and shove my card into his hand while Devyn continues to watch me, playful and smug.
“That was delicious,” she says sweetly. “Thank you for dinner.”
She knows exactly what she was doing with those noises.
What a little tease.
“It was my pleasure,” I murmur. “I would be happy to do it a hundred times more.”
The sweet scent of her arousal is still in the air, and I’m jealous of anyone near us that might be able to smell it.
I didn’t notice any unmated Alphas in here, but that could change at any moment.
My jealous streak would come out in an instant, and the last thing I want is to scare her away.
She’s too good for me and she doesn’t even realize it.
Especially if I get hard just from watching her eat dessert.
Once the waiter returns with my card and I’m satisfied my traitorous erection isn’t obvious through my pants, I take her hand and lead her out of the restaurant.
Her scent blooms around me, delicious and mouthwatering, and I growl at the valet who has the audacity to look at her again.
Mine.
I turn to her, about to apologize for my terrible manners, but she looks delighted.
Maybe she likes a bit of possessiveness.
“You know, our hostess was looking at you a lot during dinner,” she adds conversationally, her voice light as I hold the passenger door open for her. I wasn’t about to let the valet do it. “Does that mean I should have growled at her, too?”
I look at her curiously. “You growl?”
She shrugs. “I’ve been known to do it.”
“That’s…” I trail off, trying to find the right words. “Fucking adorable.”
I’ve been swearing around her, too, more than I do other people. The only other person I do that with is Ace, and I realize Devyn makes me feel just as comfortable as he does.
“Well, maybe one day you’ll be lucky enough to hear it,” she says.
“I’d be honored.”
After I shut her door, I enter the driver’s side and reluctantly start the drive to take her home.
The truth is, I don’t want to take her back.
Hell, if she wanted to recite cookie recipes to me all night, I’d listen happily, half-hard from the sound of her voice.
“So, when can I see you again?” I blurt, all attempts at sounding composed flying out the window. I’m drunk on her scent, and it’s hard to keep my eyes on the road when all I want to do is look at her.
Sink my teeth into her.
Taste her.
“You’d like to see me again?” she asks softly.
I grip the steering wheel tightly.
How do I answer that without sounding absolutely unhinged?
“If I had it my way, our next date would be tomorrow,” I admit. “And I’d like to bring Ace with me.”
My car is full of sugar and honey.
My knuckles hurt from how hard I’m gripping the wheel.
I try to focus on the road, but I’m losing my damn mind.
Her arousal is potent, and her breath catches at my answer.
“I want a group date,” she says shakily. “You, Ben, and Ace.”
I stifle a groan at the mention of my boyfriend’s name on her lips.
“I would like that,” I say. “When are you free next?”
Say tomorrow, say tomorrow…
“I’m off Friday,” she breathes.
Five days.
Five fucking days until I can see her again, until I can breathe the same air as her…
Get it together.
But my inner Alpha roars at the injustice of it all.
I have to endure five days without the woman of my dreams.
“Friday works,” I say evenly, making sure she’s oblivious to my internal plight.
The rest of the drive goes by way too quickly, and our scents combine until I’m certain I’m going to explode.
It’s torture.
“Oh, Ben’s home,” she breathes as we pull into the parking lot of her apartment.
I’ve never been so jealous of another man before.
I open her passenger door and take my time walking her down the hallway to her apartment door.
It’s the end of our date, and all I’ve done is touch her waist and her hand.
Her arousal is potent, but I’m not going to assume what she wants.
But we pause outside her door, and I’m reluctant to let her go.
She looks up at me, her lips slightly parted, the muted light of the apartment hallway shining in her eyes.
“Devyn,” I say. “May I kiss you?”
She nods eagerly. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, please kiss me, Alpha .”
Something primal activates in me.
I cup her face, bring my mouth to hers, and groan.
It’s a desperate kiss, full of longing as my tongue licks inside her mouth, tasting her thoroughly.
Sweetness explodes in my senses, and she wraps her arms around my neck, moaning softly.
I commit the sound to memory, my cock hardening to steel while she pushes her tongue against mine.
Holy shit .
I have her pressed up against the door to her apartment, my body crowding hers. But she kisses me just as fiercely as I devour her, nipping at my lip until I growl into her mouth.
When I finally pull away, her pupils are blown, and her lips are swollen from kissing. She pants against my mouth, breathing heavily.
I step back, knowing if we continued, my hand would be under her dress, feeling the slick between her legs.
I wouldn’t stop. I would fuck her right here against her apartment door like a madman, and that’s not how she deserves to be treated.
“Good night, Devyn,” I pant. “Sleep well.”
She blinks, as if in a trance.
“Good night!” she squeaks, digging her keys out of her clutch and unlocking the door. She hurries inside and shuts it quickly behind her.
I sigh and stare at her closed door, trying to process what the hell just happened.
Then, when I return to my car, I find one of Ace’s old sweatshirts in my backseat. I smell it, then sink my teeth into it, desperate to relieve some tension.
I give my boyfriend’s sweatshirt a mating bite.
The next five days are going to be absolute torture.