Chapter 30
JULIET
“I’m just saying, if I knew agreeing to date you meant I’d get fresh pie prepared for me in my own home, I might have cracked sooner.”
Roderick pretends to glare at me over his shoulder, but I’m getting better at telling when he’s actually grumpy versus when he’s playing.
That’s right. Alpha of the Pine Falls pack can be playful. In his own stoic way.
I smirk back before refocusing on the paper crafts I have spread across the table. We may only be in November, but I’m already working on Christmas cards. Mine take longer, seeing as how I handcraft each one to fit the receiver, and I keep finding myself with more friends in this town.
“Which one is mine?” Roderick appears at my shoulder, eyeing the growing pile of finished cards.
“I haven’t made it yet.” Carefully, I glue a stretch of lace to the edge of a crimson card.
“Why not? I’m your boyfriend. I’m more important than”—he picks up the top card and flips it open—“Warner? My brother gets a card before me?”
“Oh my gosh.” I laugh. “Are you jealous? You’re so grumbly!” I pat his stomach, tempted to stroke the solid slab.
Roderick mumbles indistinct words, proving my point.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to fight off more chuckles, giddy from this innocent exchange.
Ever since I got out of Bear Valley, I’ve been playing it safe.
Kissing Roderick on my kitchen floor was the first real risk I had taken since coming to Pine Falls.
And it was also the first night I started to feel true control over my life. Not because of him, but because of the freedom I allowed myself to have with him.
That’s a craving that I can’t push away, and I don’t think I want to anymore. If I let my fear of Cory and his pack dictate all my future decisions, I might as well pack up everything and drive back to Utah.
Roderick stalks back to the oven, crouching down to check on his dessert through the glass window.
His body tempts me. The way his jeans hug his thighs and ass. The way his thermal stretches over his shoulders. But also, the way he moves, with utter confidence, but not an ounce of cockiness. Roderick doesn’t swagger. I’m not sure he could if he wanted to.
He doesn’t need to though. The no-nonsense way he navigates the world is so much sexier.
I wish I could bottle that self-assurance so I could drink it like a tonic whenever I feel a bout of panic coming on. So that next time Roderick’s eyes darken to black, I can face him without wavering. So I can enjoy him wanting me rather than fear him.
As the warm scent of apples fills the kitchen, I breathe in deep and sigh out my contentment. Roderick busies himself cleaning up his baking area, sleeves rolled up and showing off his corded forearms.
Gods, he’s good-looking.
“I’m the alpha.”
That’s what I said to him, mainly just to see if he’d balk at the idea of giving up some of his power. But Roderick gave me his neck.
And right now, in my cozy, delicious smelling kitchen, while fiddling with my favorite pastime, I’m in the perfect mind frame to exert some dominance.
“Roderick?”
He grunts.
I smile.
“Do you ever think about me when you touch yourself?”
The cutting board clatters into the sink, the wolf’s strong back stiffening. Slowly, he turns to face me, and … there they are.
Black eyes.
My next breath is a gasp, sucked in through my nose as my adrenaline kicks in. Roderick lowers his lids, likely picking up on my automatic reaction.
“No.” The word comes out harsher than I intended, but it gets his gaze back on me. “I want to see your eyes.” I swallow. “They are part of you, and I want to get used to them.”
Roderick hesitates, and then he nods, staring at me all the while.
“Are you going to answer?” My voice is breathy.
A slow nod. “Every night in bed. It’s you. Every morning in the shower. It’s you.” He rubs his fingers over his stern mouth. “Can barely make it through the day.”
Anticipation and arousal begin to eclipse my fear. And the homey smell of apple pie keeps me level with comfort.
“Kiss me,” I command.
He lets go of the counter I didn’t realize he was gripping, strides across the kitchen, and drops to his knees beside my chair. Roderick palms my thighs, guiding them open so he can settle between them, and draws my face to his.
I expect his kiss to be a bruising collide with how he charged toward me, but Roderick doesn’t hit me like a lusty battering ram.
His mouth coaxes mine, his lips tasting of the fruit and cinnamon filling he sampled while baking.
Roderick’s fingers grip the back of my neck to keep me in place.
The possessive gesture has me shivering, but there’s no sensation of being trapped.
My hands rest on his shoulders, then slide upward. When I drag my nails over the shorn hair on his scalp, I earn a groan from his thick throat, and as his mouth opens, I dip my tongue in to sample more of his flavor.
The experience is pure self-indulgence.
Heat builds between our bodies, easing every part of me that touches him, even the places I didn’t realize were tense. I scoot forward on my seat, plastering myself against him, needy and starved for affection that isn’t mixed with fear.
Roderick kisses me thoroughly, experimenting with angles and pressure, drawing whimpers from my lips that he meets with grunts.
“So good,” he mutters when our mouths part so I can gasp in a breath. “Pretty little librarian.” He kisses my jaw, then my neck, his exhale hot against my skin. “Smell so good. Gods,” he groans and licks my neck. “Fuck. You taste delicious.”
I let out a high-pitched giggle. “You’re very Big Bad Wolf right now.”
Roderick kisses his way back up to my mouth, then pulls back, gaze finding mine.
Black eyes.
I flinch.
He sighs, the sound hinting at disappointment, and closes his eyes. My arousal trickles away as I brace for his condemnation. But Roderick keeps his eyes closed and rests his forehead against mine.
Just as I start to relax, Roderick scoops me into his arms and steals my seat as he cradles me in his lap. His nose rests on my collarbone, and he breathes me in like I’m oxygen.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a quiver of uncertainty in my question.
“Holding you,” he murmurs against my skin.
Then I feel a tug at the back of my head and realize he’s sliding out my hairband. When the mass tumbles free, he eases his fingers through the strands in a surprisingly gentle manner.
“You’re not mad?” My voice sounds vulnerable to my own ears, and I try to swallow the emotions that threaten to spill out.
“Not at you.” His arms tighten. “Never at you.”
My first relationship rule sits silently between us. The answer to who Roderick is truly angry with.
But I won’t be the cause of a werewolf war.
“And you’re okay that I’m not ready to do anything?”
Roderick lifts his head, eyes still black as night.
“Holding you is something.” He kisses my forehead and inhales deep enough for me to hear the air filling his lungs. “Holding you is everything.”
And I believe him.