20. Serena
I don’t turn on the radio on my ride home. I don’t plug in my phone to connect my music on my ride, either. And I don’t think of anything other than the disgust I feel over my father’s words and actions.
My hands are tense on the steering wheel as I crawl home, unbothered by the honks I receive for my slow speed and for not shifting out of the left lane. It’s an asshole move, one I would typically never practice, but the blaring horns roll off my skin like they’re nothing more than persistent flies. I slowly eat the miles between Wolf’s shop and campus, pulling into my apartment’s parking lot in a daze.
Throwing the car into park, I don’t bother zipping my jacket, instead letting the cool evening air seep into my bones; at least I know I’m capable of feeling something other than anger and numbness, even if it’s just the cold.
Once I’m through the glass doors, I bypass the elevator and take the stairs, hoping that the burn of the climb will settle me before I enter my apartment; it doesn’t. Instead of being calmer when I walk through my front door, I’m winded and more annoyed that I thought physical exertion would help. I throw my bag and jacket on the hook by the front door and climb onto my couch, sinking into the cushions and letting the vanilla infuser on my coffee table lull me into a sense of false calm. I should probably text Wolf and let him know I made it home safely, but despite his orders, he probably doesn’t care.
Releasing a sigh, I reach forward and grab the remote, turning on the television to block out the outside world.
—
Knocking on my front door rips me out of the 2005 Pride Prejudice adaptation. I have no right to be annoyed since I’ve seen it no less than one hundred times, but Elizabeth was just denying Darcy in an epic manner, and that scene should never be interrupted.
Pausing the movie, I walk to my front door and rip it open; I realize that I should have looked through the peephole before opening the door. I also should have put a bra on under the white tank I’m wearing.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, confused by my visitor’s presence.
“You never let me know you made it home safe,” Wolf explains, giving me a once-over that warms my insides and has my nipples standing at attention.
“So, you decided to show up at my apartment? Most people would have called.”
“I did call.” He holds up his phone. “And texted several times. But you never answered. I wasn’t sure if you were dead or what the fuck was going on. Now that I see you’re alive and well, are you going to invite me in?”
“Dammit, I left my phone in my bag.” I rush over to my bag, sifting through it until I grip my phone. Just like Wolf said, I have missed calls and texts from the last few hours. “Sorry, I just wanted to block out everything that happened tonight.”
“I got it,” he consoles at the same time my door clicks shut. “What were you watching?” He motions to the television.
“Oh, nothing,” I rush out.
I watch as Wolf’s eyes squint, taking in the actors on my screen. “Is that Tom Wambsgan from Succession? I fucking love that show.”
“It’s definitely not Succession,” I mumble under my breath. Raising my voice, I tell him, “It’s Pride Prejudice—the 2005 version, which is the only version that matters. But yes, Matthew MacFadyen is the actor who plays Tom.”
“Cool.” Wolf sinks onto my couch, toeing off his shoes before sitting back into the cushions.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching a movie. You can go ahead and play it?”
“But, why—” I break off, unable to finish my thoughts.
He glances over at me, offering a small smile. “Why am I here, and why am I staying?” I nod, not trusting myself to respond verbally. “Because you’re upset, and no one should be alone when they purposely avoid their phone and the outside world. Start the damn movie, princess, and stop talking.”
—
The credits roll, and I look at Wolf, whose face is set in a confused glare. Furrowed eyebrows, clenched jaw, and shaking head, I take him in and laugh at his reaction to the movie.
“That bad?”
He looks at me, smoothing out his features. “No, they just spoke like they were from a different time. Thanks for turning on the subtitles.”
I shrug, not phased by his observation. “The movie is set in the late eighteenth century, during the Regency era, so it takes a while to get used to the idiosyncrasies.” I turn toward him, angling my body closer to his. I’m in sweatpants and white tank top—sans bra—but it’s dark in the room, so I doubt he can see much of anything. The television provides just enough illumination to bathe his face in light, displaying his perfectly formed lips. I can’t help my eyes as I stare at his mouth; I blame the romantic movie we just watched, but I’m smart enough to know that Wolf’s presence just affects me.
I keep my eyes trained on his lips, and he licks them, moistening his flesh before pulling his tongue back inside his mouth. I’m embarrassed—but not surprised—that my mouth pops open at the same time his closes.
“Do you want me to take the decision out of your hands?” I look up, startled by Wolf’s question.
“What?”
He levels me with a look, and I flush under his gaze. “You’re trying to figure out if you should kiss me, whether it’s a stupid decision or a good idea. But before you do something or ask something of me that can’t be taken back, you need to know where I’m at.” I swallow, otherwise immobile, as the words tumble out of his mouth. “I’m not looking for a relationship, and I’m not your fairytale happy ending. You’re young—and I’m not saying that as an insult. You have a whole life ahead of you, mistakes and decisions to be made, and I’m at a different point in my life. And you’re hurting, so tonight would be a balm to your soul more than anything. So, if you ask me to kiss you right now, it won’t stop there; I will strip you down, get my hands and tongue all over your body, and then I’ll leave. Because for you, I’m a good time, a distraction, a one night, not a forever. Do you understand?”
Absorbing his words, I nod my head, decision made. “I’m not looking for forever, Wolf. I have enough to deal with without adding the pressure of expectation to the list. I’m not going to wait around for you to call me. I’m not going to obsess over what you’re doing or who you’re with. But for tonight, can you just make me feel something?”
I’m not lying when I say that I’m not interested in anything more than what Wolf is offering; the drama with Dylan and Devin, my dad’s betrayal, and the events of last semester have drained me to the point where if it weren’t for my mom and Ava and CeCe, I would be numb and desensitized to the world around me, going with the current simply because I’m on autopilot. I have no desire to add someone else’s emotions and feelings into my life.
Since losing my virginity to Devin, I made the mistake of sleeping with one other guy—a resident of my apartment complex. Ironically, he was in the elevator the first night Wolf came up to my apartment. It was transactional and deeply unsatisfying. Something tells me that any sexual experience with Wolf would be the antithesis of the laughable experience I claim. And I’m eager to know what it feels like to come on the hands of a man savage enough to rip someone apart but artistic enough to create beauty on skin.
“So, I guess the only thing I have left to say is, Wolf, will you kiss me?”
Wolf:
I stare at her, letting her words fuel the hard-on that’s pressing against my pants and the precum that’s starting to leak in my briefs.
“You sure about this, princess?” If I need to verify with her six goddamn times before I press my lips against hers and fuck the ever-loving shit out of her, I will. I don’t play with consent, and I won’t allow her to feel pressured into something she doesn’t want.
“Yes.”
I watch her for another minute, meeting her unflinching gaze, and nod my approval. Standing from the couch, I walk across the room and flick on the lights, bathing us both in the artificial glow so that I can see every inch of her body. Her brows draw down, and she opens her mouth to speak, but I move fast.