Page 34 of Enemy Wolf

Once that rush was over, I found myself alone in the cool, basement cellar below the kitchen. Everyone had been served, so the girls and our werewolf helpers had resettled at the table with their drinks to wind down. My stomach wasn’t feeling caffeine, so I opted to brew myself some herbs.

I grabbed what I needed and headed back up, frowning at the sound of water running and the gentle clatter of plates stacking together. At the cellar doorway, I saw a man standing over one of the deep sinks, spraying water over a pile of dirty dishes.

“What are you doing?” I asked before my brain caught up to what my eyes saw—the height, the wide set of shoulders, the dark hair cut short and then tightly faded as it went higher up his skull. The strong legs and…yeah, the ass. That ass was not one to be ignored.

“Washing dishes. What does it look like?” Orson answered without looking back at me.

I set my collection of herbs down on the island counter with a huff. “Don’t worry about those. I’ll take care of them.”

“Just rinsing them off before the food sticks.” He pulled down the detachable faucet head and clicked on the spray setting, waving it back and forth over the plates in the deep sink.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said with more force in my voice. “It’s not your job.”

“Not yours either. They said you weren’t on washing duty this year.”

“Well, I’ve been volunteering for years. I know how things are done.”

“Right. You have a procedure.” He released the nozzle to move the rinsed dishes into the next sink basin.

“We do. And it’s not the way you’re doing it.”

“Then show me how.” Orson lifted his head and turned, hitting me with that frosty gaze. “I warn you, though,” he added before I could retort. “I’m a slow learner.”

“That’s not true,” I blurted out before slamming my lips tight. Orson was highly intelligent from what I gathered, but I was not about to flatter his ego.

One large shoulder rolled in a lazy shrug while the hint of a smile played on his lips. “Maybe not when it comes to washing dishes. But I am about other things.”

“Like manners.” I crossed my arms, making my stance challenging. It was just me and him in the kitchen, so fuck it. Why not confront him?

Orson dipped his head. Not in a full nod but in a way of acknowledging what I said. “I’m not good with people. I’m trying, but I don’t always remember the rules for every situation.”

I loosened my arms just a little. That admission paired with what he’d said about growing up feral made sense, but I wasn’t about to let him off the hook yet.

“Why did you leave like that?”

His head lifted but he still didn’t meet my eyes. “Like what?”

Fucking moon, was he really going to make me say it? “Like you were…disgusted by me.”

That icy gaze snapped to mine faster than a predator locking onto the scent of prey. “I was never disgusted by you.” A growl rumbled up from his throat. “Not in the slightest.”

“You backed away from me like you were horrified.”

“I was,” he said. “At myself.”

“Yourself?” I shook my head. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t keep my word to you,” he snarled. “I told you I would stay in control and I…lost it.”

“Orson, what are you saying? I was…well, I was enjoying what was happening.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to lie. I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not lying!” All the hurt and frustration was boiling over, dialed up because none of it made any fucking sense. “I did enjoy it. Shit, I would’ve asked you to stay if you hadn’t ran out so fast. If I was lying, I would’ve made every excuse to get you out the first time you made me...”

Orson’s puzzled expression made me trail off, his head cocking to the side. “But I went farther than just using my hands like you said. I…hurt you.”

I stared at him, bewildered that we had such opposing perspectives on something we’d both done. “You didn’t hurt me. And I didn’t mind that you, ah, did more than we discussed. I enjoyed it. A lot.”

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