Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
“What do you know? I’d caught the werewolf’s eye.”
— ILONA ANDREWS, CLEAN SWEEP
I was all in with this woman.
No.
Back that truck up.
I was with this woman in all ways. She wasn’t a dating game, a hand of cards I’d resolved was good enough to win with. She was perfect and perfectly Sonnet.
My wolf hummed his approval. That’s better.
I ran a hand up and down her bare back, over the silky sweet skin of her rounded thighs, and over her magnificently curvy backside. I owed her a pair of panties.
Better buy stock in Victoria’s Secret , my wolf suggested. Just a little investment tip.
Destroying her things gave me some pause— She GAVE permission, and it was SEXY destruction , my wolf said, irritated—because breaking stuff had been something Darrell Boone had done a lot of. And sure, it had often been people, not clothing, but I resolved to think about my behavior. Later. Sonnet’s satin-soft curves did very little to ease the hard situation that had popped up south of my belt. But it was a good kind of problem. It fed a different addiction.
Because right now we’re snuggling our mate , my wolf said smugly. Ain’t nothing better.
I mentally adjusted my calendar for the rest of my life. There needed to be room for doing this every day. Touching her, bringing her to release—a spectacularly loud and gratifyingly open release—calmed the beast in me even as it fed my desire for more. I wanted to do it again, and then again. Pretty much daily for forever.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, settling closer and slipping her leg between mine. I pet the sweet, rounded curve of her upper thigh.
Her needing to ask surprised me.
“You.” I moved my fingers higher, gently trailing the backs of my knuckles over her. She was slick and warm, and I left my hand there. Making her feel good made me feel good.
Win-win , my wolf said happily.
“I suspect,” I said, pressing another kiss against her forehead, “that I’m gonna be a very hands-on boyfriend.”
She rewarded me with a breathy whimper.
“How do you feel about demonstrative affection?” I stroked her gently.
“Is this a demonstration like those awesome people who hand out samples at Costco? Is public sex your thing?” She twinkled up at me. She was getting her second wind.
Round two!
“I will not be encouraging anyone to sample your goods.” I tapped her clit gently and she moaned. “Nor was I planning public orgies. Unless that’s something you’re into, in which case I’m game to try.”
I’d do anything for her. I hoped I’d made that clear.
“How about you just keep doing what you’re doing right now? You do that, and I don’t care if we get it on in a chilly-ass meat aisle, just as long as it’s the two of us together.”
We can work with that .
We sure could.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
“That’s the plan,” she agreed happily. “You just lose your pants, big guy. I can handle the rest.”
I bet she could.
I bet it would be the most amazing three minutes of my life, too, because I would not be lasting long when I finally got inside her.
Reluctantly, I removed my fingers from their happy place.
“I’m dead serious,” she said. “This is me asking, with a side of lusty begging. Let’s sleep together. When can we have sex, and why aren’t we doing that right now?”
Woman makes a great point.
I tensed because I did like her idea a whole lot. My brain was a radio station playing sexy Sonnet thoughts twenty-four seven. My pants, however, were not the real obstacle. I didn’t want to spoil what we had between us. Nourish it, yes. Feed it and make it grow, you bet. So, I had to be careful.
Our feelings aren’t the only thing growing , my wolf grumbled.
Clearing my throat, I proceeded with caution. “So I’m a scientist. I study snake venom.”
Sonnet nudged me gently. “FYI, your romantic talk needs work, although I sure would like to handle your trouser snake.”
Sonnet joked when she felt vulnerable. Where some animals tried to match their background or used flashy body parts to deflect a bigger predator away from a vulnerable area, she used humor. My emotions? That ain’t no never mind—just enjoy this funny joke!
I respected her need to protect herself, so I leaned back some so she could see my face. I smiled, hoping I was projecting caring and tenderness, not concern about the conversation I was launching. “As a scientist, I know for a fact that you have to be slow and methodical. You can have a great hypothesis, but then you have to prove it. You have to go through all the steps. You can’t go jumping to conclusions based on a single piece of physical evidence. I believe we have something amazing between us, and I believe it can last. But we can’t be making a conclusion like that based just on a chemical attraction to each other.”
“You don’t think sex is enough.” Then she muttered into my chest, “Well, hypothesize that.”
I had to laugh at the disappointment in her voice.
You could—here’s a fucking order and not a suggestion—DO something , my wolf urged. Make sweet, sweet love to her .
“Yeah, I don’t. Even if we’re making enough pheromones between us to cause an entire colony of sea urchins to eject their sex cells.”
“You are so weird sometimes,” she said, flashing me a quick smile. “Ummm. Not to be dismissive of the sexual habits of sea urchins, but what about us becoming a sexy habit? Or we could just sleep together. Cuddle.”
I brushed the hair back from her face. “Are you hypothesizing that we could be in a bed together and just sleep ? Because that’s a terrible hypothesis, and I have the data point to prove it.”
“I feel your point,” she grumbled. “But we could be strong. Think about root vegetables. Do higher order mathematics.”
“There is nothing that would make me not desire you.”
Another quick, happy grin lit up her face. Her dimples were out in full force. “So, I’m completely irresistible?”
I gave her the unvarnished truth. “You are.”
She grinned wider, then tried to reorganize her face into solemn and serious lines. She was, indeed, up for most challenges. “I have faith in you, Maverick. I believe you can resist my charms. Actually, you do resist them. Draw on that werewolf strength and stop selling yourself short.”
Fuck she’s cute when she’s laughing .
She was. I loved it when she teased me.
“I’m not,” I countered. This was the part of the conversation that I had been dreading. Confession time.
Sonnet wasn’t out of jokes, though. “I sleep in ratty sweatpants. They’re holey and have weird stains from eating in bed. And I have equally ancient T-shirts. There will be no sexy lingerie, no unclothed body parts. I can get shirts that disparage biology! Or cute kitten shirts—bet your wolf wouldn’t like that.”
She winked at me, and both my wolf and I groaned. This woman.
I had to just say it. I blurted it out real fast: “I haven’t slept with a woman in five years.”
She paused, clearly processing my statement. Equally clearly, the concept of yearslong celibacy was as unfamiliar to her as the procreative habits of sea urchins. “Excuse me?” she said finally. “Can you repeat that, please?”
She’s going to think there’s something wrong with you. Bad dick, bad breath, railroad tracks on the old boxers.
It was the truth that most folks didn’t understand choosing not to have sex. You got a temporary hall pass for deep-seated trauma or religious convictions, usually along with an offer to fix what was wrong with you.
Sonnet barreled ahead. “You mean you haven’t been in a relationship for five years?”
We could at least have been a monk. My wolf sounded sulky, but he and I were on the same page here, despite his teasing. After all, we were parts of the same person. Which sounded weird as fuck. I was not going there.
“That’s true too. The last time I stepped out with a girl was in high school, to be honest. But what I was getting at was that I haven’t had a sexual relationship with anyone in the last five years.”
Don’t be such a downer , my wolf grumped. We know what we’re doing. Experienced, excellent, top-shelf sex, that’s us. We’re high-end Tennessee whiskey, not the knock-off stuff.
“Wow. Wow. Wowwwww.” She did some inhaling and gasping that did not feel like it boded well for my future orgasms.
Abruptly, she untangled herself from me and sat up, wrapping herself in a throw blanket. I mourned the loss of naked Sonnet. “But why? Do you like sex? Do you not like sex? Are you demisexual? Sapiosexual? Oh my God, did I just violate your boundaries? Because I want to be supportive of your choices, not some kind of sexual bulldozer pushing myself in where you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not any of those.” Leaning back against her sofa, I braced my arms on my knees. “I don’t require an emotional bond to be attracted to someone, and I sure do have a strong desire to engage in sexual activity. I just made the choice not to have sex because I didn’t want to hurt anybody, and my dating behavior was hurtful. I treated women like disposable dinnerware. They were convenient, single-use appliances, and I used them and tossed them away.”
“Was it a sex addiction?”
I frowned, considering her question. “No. I don’t think so. I was choosing to be out of control. I don’t believe it was a compulsion. I just enjoyed being the town bad boy, and there were plenty of ladies who were happy to take me for a ride. It was part of the club lifestyle with the Iron Wolves. I don’t know what you know about motorcycle clubs, but their members can have real inappropriate relationships with women. The ones in a committed relationship are old ladies, while the gals who just come to club parties and hang out with the members can be pass-arounds. The wolf clubs are sometimes even worse.”
“Ugh.” Sonnet glared ferociously. “I can’t even . What the hell is wrong with people?”
“Anyhow, when I made the decision to break with the club, I also had to break all those old patterns and habits. No drinking, no messing around, no sex, no car stealing, parties, fights, lying, cheating, or conning. No uncontrolled shifting or full-moon binges. I went to school, got a job, and stayed home until I had new, better habits. I had to be able to trust myself.”
“Do you drink now?”
“I have a beer once in a while. Two maybe, and then I stop.” I tried to remember if I’d ever seen Sonnet have a drink.
“And you’re no longer a hermit? You go out and have fun? You socialize?”
“I started socializing again a couple of years ago. But not often and nowhere I could fall back into old behaviors. I’m not a drinking-and-dancing kind of guy.”
I had a picture in my head of the Hollywood lifestyle. My internet forays suggested there was a lot of fancy champagne swilling, posing on the red carpets, and raucous parties in big mansions with swimming pools. I realized now that was unfair. Some people did those things, like some people here in Moonlight Valley liked to hit the bar on Friday night. And most people didn’t hurt anyone else with their choice of social activities. I just knew that after what I’d done as an Iron Wolf, I couldn’t take a chance on relapsing.
Sonnet studied me from her position on the rug. “So, you are a man of moderation. You don’t over-drink, over-party, or over-go-out. So why not just date in moderation too?”
“Because the drinking and the partying hurt only me. Dating requires another person, and that other person could get hurt.”
“Because you weren’t going to commit.”
I nodded. Both my wolf and I were impressed with her insight.
“So you haven’t met a single woman you could imagine yourself being in a long-term relationship with, not ever?”
I shrugged. “I’ve met lots of nice women, but I’ve never felt the urge to actually do it. It was easy to walk away from them.”
Brown eyes widened. “But you can’t walk away from me.”
“I cannot.”
“Good,” she said. “I’m glad to hear that. Now tell me why.” She looked worried for a moment. “It’s not magic. Hand on heart, I have not tried to glamour you since the day we first met.”
This should have been an easy question. I was taking too long to answer, though. I could feel it. There were so many reasons why I wanted to be with her.
Tell her , my wolf urged. Maybe compose some freaking poetry here. You know—a brilliant play on her name. Write a sonnet. Do some rhyming shit about her awesomeness.
I wasn’t Shakespeare, but damned if she didn’t deserve a poet.
I gave it my best shot.
“You’re funny and smart, sassy and gorgeous. But there are smaller things too. I like learning new things about you, everyday things that aren’t the epic kind of stuff you put in a greeting card. I like how you love oddities so much that you never wear a matching pair of socks. I like how you poke through every bank of ferns when we’re in the woods, as if there’s a treasure chest hidden there and you’re gonna find it. You have a magic that sparkles in you and, boy, I didn’t see that coming, but it feels right. I even enjoy the way you move all my stuff around and then pretend like it wasn’t you. We talk, and that’s great, but the silence is good too. It’s not anything that you do. It’s more that the act of being with you makes you impossible to leave or forget. We have a hundred Sonnet moments gluing us together, and I’m hoping for a million more. I’m in this for the long haul.”
Rhymes , my wolf groused. We coulda used some pizazz there, buddy. Mentioned her being our true mate. Maybe mentioned that the werewolf wants forever?
Despite my ham-handed declaration of liking, Sonnet’s cheeks pinkened. “Maverick.” I sure liked the tender way she said my name. She lifted her face as though to kiss me, but I wasn’t finished.
“I’ve got something else to say.”
“There’s more?” Sonnet’s brown eyes widened, and she chewed on her lip. I had thoughts. Erotic, sexy thoughts. Some plans too. But first I had to tell her everything.
“Yeah.” I gritted my teeth, steeling myself to lay it all out for her. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t...That the next woman I made love to would be my wife.”
Mate. We’re saving it for our MATE.
Sonnet stared at me, mouth open. Apparently, I’d surprised her.
If she’s good with the wolf, she’s shockproof.
I wasn’t so sure. I was asking her to wait for me.
“So, what was that ?” Sonnet motioned to herself. Then she pointed lower where my hand had just been. She popped her thumb out of her fist. “A little eggplant emoji? A banana for my hot dog? A taco tango?”
I tried not to grin because she was just so stinking cute. “Getting to know each other?”
She growled, lifted herself up on her elbow, and poked me in the chest. “Well, I call it making sweet, sweet love, wolfman.”
“It was sweet. But I’m talking about swinging my five wood. Making a hole in one. Using my stiff shaft.” Then I winked. “A good golf game.”
“Well, I’d be happy to be your golf partner, but I’m confused.”
Capturing her hand, I pressed it against my heart. “I’m falling hard for you, Sonnet. I started to the first day I got you in my truck. I felt a connection. I was hooked. I still am, and I love it. I know my choosing to go slow in the bedroom isn’t an obvious choice, but it’s mine, and I have to own it. Wanting to wait doesn’t mean that I don’t care for or value you.”
“I understand,” she admitted reluctantly, her face softening. “I do. But you are such a tease, Maverick Boone, getting me all worked up and then making me wait.”
Well crap. Crappity crap crap crap ? —
“I understand—” I scooted backward, trying to give her space. Between the sofa and the table and the general lack of space inside her trailer, I was not as successful as I should have been.
And that was before she twisted her fingers in the front of my T-shirt and yanked me toward her. “No. No, no, no. That wasn’t me telling you to go. That was me making a bad joke.”
“I’m not leaving,” I said, my voice rough. “Not ever.” I tucked her hair behind her ear, loving how her curls grabbed at my fingers. Her hair was so soft and full of sass, like the rest of her. I wanted to lean down and kiss her neck, bite her, mark her properly as mine. All the things I’d sworn I’d never do, could never dare do. Wolves mated for forever, and there was no undoing that bite. “I apologize if you feel like I misled you about my sexual availability.”
“Do not apologize for being who you are.” She shook her head. “I cannot say that enough. You get a choice, I get a choice, we hopefully make choices together. But none of them are wrong . It’s just that?—”
We could bite her just a little. We don’t have to go full-on Darrell.
There my wolf was wrong. There was no halfway with a mating bite.
“I mean,” Sonnet tried again, “if you’re in a committed relationship—which is what I think we are in—I don’t see the need to wait for a wedding ceremony. I admit that’s not something that I understand, but I’ll respect it. But given what you’ve shared about your past, I’m thinking that it’s not me you’re worried about hurting. You’re worried about yourself . You don’t trust yourself, sure, but these lines you’re drawing also make sure that you don’t get hurt. No feelings, no commitments, no worry about being heavily invested in someone who might walk away from you.”
We’re dating a psychotherapist. This is awkward.
I frowned. I didn’t much enjoy her words, but they weren’t all wrong. No. Of course they were wrong. Of course I wasn’t putting the brakes on our sex life because I didn’t want to end up hurt and alone. That was pure foolishness. That would make me a self-centered ass.
I hope you’re not expecting introspection from me. I’m here for the sex and the biting.
But the more she stared at me, calmly challenging me, patiently waiting on my answer, the more I started to think that she was on to something. Sure, I liked to think that I could have settled down with any one of a dozen ladies in the last five years. I was charming. I had the full allowance of Boone family charm. But maybe the porch light was on, but no one was home. What woman would make long-term room in her life for me as more than a hookup quickie?
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I met her gaze, fair and square. She was strong and gorgeous, a clever woman with an amazing heart, and I made a decision: First, despite the low odds of my ever truly deserving her, I could still work my ass off every day to be the man who did. I could do my best to merit her trust, loyalty, and love. It might be a gift she’d given to me, but I would be goddamned worthy of it anyhow.
Second, life shouldn’t be lived according to arbitrary lines and rules. So, I would be breaking my celibacy vow. When I was ready to make love to her—and her to me—then we would. It would be lovemaking, not just fun sex or screwing around. It might or might not include a wedding ring, but it would be love filled. I would take the chance on that.
“Maverick?” She frowned up at me. “I know you’re thinking. Can you please share?”
“Always.” I gave her a warm smile, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “I will always share with you. Mostly, I’ve just concluded that we should have cake for breakfast every morning. Start our days off right, like this one.”