48. Isabella
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
ISABELLA
Today is the day.
The seventy-fifth anniversary of the town of Lunamois, and the reason I’m here in the first place.
Everything has to be perfect. Because then, maybe when I tell people I want to stay, they’ll want to hire me to plan their own events.
I didn’t necessarily love event planning before—I enjoyed it a bit, but it never felt like ‘my thing’. But here? I’ve never had so much fun as when I’ve been running around interacting with the local vendors.
It feels like all the pieces of my life are finally coming together. I just need to know if Nick feels the same way.
He’s been hiding something. I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s being sneaky, but the man wears his emotions all over his face. And I’ve caught him looking at me like I’m going to disappear.
What is it he needs to tell me that has him so scared?
A shiver runs down my spine as I get dressed for the day. Despite how much I love Lunamois, I won’t stay if Nick doesn’t want me here. This town is too small, and I think it’d actually rip my heart to pieces to see him move on with someone else.
I shake my head. I can’t let myself get sucked into an anxiety whirlpool. It may be just some other wolfy thing that isn’t a big deal.
That would also be very on-brand for him.
I need to stop thinking about this—stop obsessing—and focus on the event today. Nick and I will have whatever conversation we need to have when he’s ready, and not a moment sooner.
I pull on my favorite lilac dress—the one I wore on our second date—and my jean jacket over top. It’s cooler today than I expected, but thankfully dry, so far. You never know in the PNW. Things tend to change on a dime.
“Goddamn,” Nick growls from the kitchen. We came to my place last night after dinner, so I’d be closer to my things, but damn if I don’t miss his house. It feels much more like home.
I twirl for him, the dress lifting just enough to show some of the rougher bites he left on my thighs last night. I don’t know what it is about them, but he can never seem to go too long without a little nibble.
He abandons whatever breakfast he’s preparing to cross the room and lift me into his arms. Warm hands encase my bare thighs, and I’m instantly ready to forget all about the day to stay wrapped up in him.
“You wore that on purpose, knowing I can’t keep you in bed, didn’t you?” He murmurs, fingers working their way up and up, almost to the place I need him.
Only a few seconds of his touch, and I need him. It’s addicting, this chemistry we have. I want more of it—all the time.
“Just wanted to look nice,” I reply, digging my fingernails into his neck the way he loves.
His smile is all wolf, sharp canines poking against his lips.
“That’s not the whole truth, is it? You also love teasing me, Izzy.
You love knowing that every time I look at you, I’m remembering the first time I saw you in that dress.
I’m remembering our first night together and the fucking sounds you made. ”
I squirm in his arms, trying to rub against him. As usual, my cute little plan to tease has turned into me practically begging for him instead.
“Not now, petite copine,” he says, using that blasted French-sounding nickname. “You have a full day ahead, and I like the idea of you having to walk around in those wet panties waiting for my cock.”
But I know the buttons to push now. “But wouldn’t it be better if I walked around with your cum leaking down my thighs? Wouldn’t it be better to let everyone smell how well you fill me?”
His groan is like music to my ears. His head dips to my neck and licks a big stripe there. “I swear to the Goddess you are a demon.”
“Your demon.”
He kisses me soundly, full lips giving me every emotion in his body. “Mine. Always mine, Izzy.”
“Please?” I blink my eyes up at him, seeing the walls of his resolve crumbling.
There was a time when I felt ashamed of begging. I never wanted to beg for anything ever again.
But with Nick? I know it’s different. I’m not begging for his attention or affection.
I’m using it as a tool to express my needs to someone who cares enough to want to know them.
And that safety? That communication? It’s worth everything.
“I would give you the world if you asked me.” He presses me against the wall, pulling down his sweatpants. “And me? I’m already yours.”
He pulls my panties aside with one finger and fills me with one confident thrust that has my eyes rolling back in my head, but I can’t give in, not yet.
“You’re really mine?” I whisper.
He looks up, tearing his eyes away from the sight of his cock spearing me open. “I am, Izzy. I have always been, and always will be, yours.”
Always. I like the sound of that.