Page 34 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

“No, but it doesn’t hurt to double-check. Having you next door is going to be very convenient.”

We grab my luggage from the front desk and get in his car to drive home. Turning on the highway that takes us off the island and toward home, he changes the subject. “Did you want to stop to get some groceries?”

I hadn’t thought about having a kitchen and needing to feed myself. I can cook, but I rarely have the opportunity to. Or the motivation. Since I have a shifter metabolism and burn a lot of calories dancing anyway, I can get away with takeaway curries or whatever else I want delivered to my flat in London. Out in the woods, there aren’t as many options.

“That would be grand, thank you.”

American grocery stores are fascinating places. They’re huge. Everything is so big: the store, the packaging, the variety of things. An entire long aisle is just breakfast cereal. So many varieties and so many sizes of the same thing. It’s crazy. I push the trolley, and Trevor grabs what I want. It’s an efficient system since I wouldn’t be able to reach half the things because the shelves are so high. That’s an advantage of having a tall boyfriend.

No. Oh no. I stop dead as Trevor walks on. I don’t know where that thought came from, but Trevor isnotmy boyfriend. Boyfriends don’t have expiration dates.

“Are you okay?” he asks when he walks back to me. Concern shines in his eyes in a touch of gray clouds I hate to see.

“Aye, just amazed at all of this. It’s different from London.”

He looks around. “Oh. I’ve never been to London. Do you miss it? Maybe we could visit.”

The deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face tells me he didn’t mean to suggest making plans for the future any more than I meant to mentally call him my boyfriend. Our brains go on autopilot sometimes. That doesn’t mean it’s what our hearts want.

“Uh…I mean, maybe I’ll get there someday. Not that we would go together. I know that’s not happening.” He blushes adorably. A pang hits me in my chest. It’s affection for this man, but also sadness I won’t get to show him around London. Show him all the places I love.

Nodding, I give what I hope passes for a smile. “Let me know if you want any suggestions on things to see, restaurants, where not to go.”

We continue up and down the aisles, and he adds things to the trolley that he likes. I don’t think he realizes the assumption he’s making that he’s going to be in my place enough to eat all of it. Not that I say anything to disabuse him of the notion he’ll be there at breakfast to drink the extra pulpy orange juice I can’t stand. I just follow him and point out the things I like as we discuss the team’s travel plans to figure out when we’ll be cooking dinner. Together. Like a couple. But we’re not a couple. I heard about how Kendall and Burke started out fake dating and fell in love, but that’s not what this is, and we aren’t them.

The pasta we make for dinner is delicious, and Trevor is good company as we wash the dishes as a team. Holding his hand as I lead him upstairs, I think about how much I enjoyed cooking dinner together. Other men I was involved with didn’t set foot into the kitchen, and most of our time was spent in the studio or in the bedroom. If we had dinner, it was at a fancy restaurant when they were trying to seduce me or something I threw together when I was trying to keep them.

Entering the bedroom, his eyes roam the space. His smile is wistful when he says, “This room suits you.”

I unpack my first suitcase while he sits on the chair. He offers to help, but there isn’t really anything he can do other than keep me company.

“Funny you should say that.” I put a pile of leggings in the dresser drawer.

“Oh?”

“This is the furniture and bedding I have back at home.”

He looks around and seems to pay more attention to every detail, like it’ll tell secrets about me or something.

“Really? Exactly?”

“I noticed it when I toured the place earlier today. It’s one of the reasons I decided to stay here.”

I unlock my phone and swipe to the picture of me taking a selfie in a sundress. You can see the bed and nightstands in the background.

His finger hovers like he wants to swipe to look at more of my pictures, but good manners and self-preservation stop him from following through. Not that I have anything to hide in the photos on my phone, but it’s rude to snoop. His parents may have been less than ideal in the attention department, but they taught him manners.

“That confirms you belong here.” He stands, crosses the room, puts my phone on the dresser, and then takes me in his arms to kiss me with a mixture of sweetness and thoroughness that makes my tummy flip and my toes scrunch against the bedroom rug. His hands gently frame my face as his kiss moves from my lips to my jaw, down my neck, and to my shoulder. Little nips and quick licks accompany the kisses. Goosebumps break out across my skin. He clasps my hands and interlaces our fingers.

Our dance lessons are paying off. He uses his body to direct me to the closet door as if he’s leading in a dance. With my back against the door, he steps closer, one of his thighs slipping between my leggings-covered ones as his torso brushes against mine. Trevor raises our joined hands above my head and uses one of his to hold them there. I know I’m not trapped. If I said no or struggled at all, he’d step away. But I’m enjoying this show of dominance. We’re going to set the ballroom on fire with our passion.

I rub my center against his thigh, desperate for the friction I need. Trevor’s erection is solid and hard against my abdomen. We’re burning for each other.

“Please,” I moan.

“Please what?” he whispers. “Please more? Please stop? Please take my clothes off? You’re going to have to be more specific with your requests, princess.”

This time when he calls me princess, it doesn’t feel like snark. It’s said with affection, and it touches something within me. Not that spot where I want the something currently stiff against my abdomen hitting, though.

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