Page 11 of Her Convict Wolf

“It’s done.”

I gasp. “Maxim! You have to go back!”

“Forget about it. I made my decision.” He holds his hand up to counter any arguments. “You can live a sweet life someplace quiet,” he continues. “Out in nature. Reading books.” He crooks one of his thick eyebrows. “You still like reading books, right?”

“More than anything,” I admit. “But I find it hard to relax these days.”

That look of tenderness fills his eyes again. “I’ll help you relax. Get back to your passions.”

My heart thuds. Is he imagining staying with me in this secret place?

“Go pack a bag and let’s get out of here.”

I close my eyes and think about being with Maxim. Protected. Connected with him.

Then I think about all the danger he’s going to be in if he stays with me. How his brother will be stuck in shifter max security jail, whatever that is.

“I can’t,” I tell him. “I have a life here. My boss needs me in the kitchen.”

He stills, then shakes his head in incomprehension. “Your safety is the most important thing. Your boss can find a new employee.”

I sigh. “I just can’t, Maxim. I’m sick of running.”

He gets to his feet with a growl of frustration, then he paces around the room, hands laced behind his head. “That’s your final answer?”

I nod. “It is.”

He stops pacing and his lips quirk. “Guess I’ll just have to be your personal bodyguard.”

“No—!” I yelp. I didn’t anticipate this. “Not happening.”

He shakes his head, pretending he’s sad. “It’s one or the other. Your choice.”

His jaw is jutting out, and he looks hard, uncompromising. There was a reason why he was my father’s most senior bodyguard.

“And what if I choose to just take my chances instead?”

“No!” he barks. “Your safety is my responsibility, now, Emory.”

I stare at him in awe. He’s so powerful. Used to getting things his own way.

After being alone for so long, having to choose between a series of shitty options, being bossed around like this is…. refreshing.

And not only that—it’s as arousing as hell. I can feel that my panties are damp and my nipples have turned to aching pebbles.

Oh, shit—and I’m only wearing this flimsy tank-top and shorts. Cheeks warming, I fold my arms across my chest. Please don’t let him have noticed. He’s going to think I’m a total pervert.

“What’s it to be?” His voice is gentler now.

“You can be my bodyguard,” I mutter.

“Good girl.” He says it slow and caressing, and now I feel like I really want to be his good girl. Hell, I want to behis…

My breath catches. What do I even mean by that?

I have no idea. All I know is that the way he looks at me ignites a fire inside me that’s going to be near impossible to put out.

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