Page 12 of Falling for My Shifter Boss

I devour her mouth, unable to stop, as my hands find the buttons on her blouse. With fumbling fingers, I undo them, my need for her overwhelming any semblance of control I have left. Pulling the cups of her bra down, I cup her breasts with my hands. She feels incredible, her softness against my palms igniting a fire within me. My cock is hard as a rock, straining against the confines of my trousers, desperate for release.

Then my cell phone rings.

I ignore it, losing myself in the way Maya arches into me, the way her breath catches when I trail kisses down her throat. My wolf howls in triumph, urging me to mark her, claim her. The rational part of my brain—the part not drunk on her taste and scent—knows we're crossing a line we can't uncross.

But as I reach her breasts, as I take one pert nipple into my mouth, licking and sucking with fervent hunger, all logic fades away. Maya's gasp of pleasure, the tightening of her fingers in my hair, spur me on. I lavish attention on her nipples, my tongue swirling around each one, my teeth grazing them gently.

The ringing stops.

Then starts again.

A growl tears from my throat, frustration slicing through the haze of desire. I force myself to pull back, resting my forehead against hers as I try to catch my breath. My pulse is pounding, my wolf snarling in protest at the sudden distance. Every instinct screams at me to keep kissing her, to show her exactly what she does to my carefully constructed walls.

Maya's eyes are hooded, her lips swollen from my kiss. A flush stains her cheeks, and her curls are wild where my hands have been. Her breasts, lush and pink, add to her thoroughly kissed, utterly tempting appearance. She looks like a vision of untamed beauty—a sight that makes my wolf howl with possessive pleasure. Her scent, lavender and pine now mingled with the heady notes of our shared desire, wraps around me.

The phone keeps ringing.

I grit my teeth and glance at the screen. Sawyer.

That's enough to force me to move, though every step away from her feels like fighting gravity itself. Maya watches as I stand, my hands still curled into fists at my sides. The distance between us feels fundamentally wrong, like trying to tear apart something that should remain whole. I need it though. Need to remember who I am, what I've built, and why I can't risk it all for the fire in her eyes and the taste of her on my lips.

But my wolf knows. Has known, perhaps, since the moment she stormed into my office with that defiant tilt to her chin. The truth hits me like a physical blow—she's my mate. The connection I thought I'd never have, the one thing I convinced myself I didn't deserve.

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. "We shouldn't have done this."

Maya stiffens, her breath catching like she’s just been doused in cold water. For the first time since I met her, she doesn't have a quick comeback, no sharp-edged joke to throw between us like a shield. Instead, her hands move automatically, fumbling to adjust her bra before she buttons up her blouse with quick, precise movements. But I see it—the slight tremor in her fingers, the way her pulse jumps at her throat.

She swallows hard, lifting her chin, her expression smoothing into something unreadable. "Understood," she says, her voice too even, too controlled. A muscle ticks in her jaw, a tell I know well by now. "I'll clean up and head home."

She turns before I can say anything else, and the loss feels immediate. Final.

She walks to the door with her head high, and something in me fractures at the sight. My wolf surges forward, desperate to stop her, to explain, to claim. The mate bond thrums between us, raw and terrifying.

But I let her go.

She closes the door behind her with a quiet click that sounds like finality.

I stand there, frozen, her taste still on my lips, her warmth still ghosting across my skin. The wolf in me rages, demanding I follow her, explain, make this right. But the man—the one who built an empire on control and calculation, who watched his sister die—that man knows better.

I don't know how to reconcile these warring parts of myself. I thought I wasn't capable of this kind of connection. And yet, here she is.

Here she's always been.

And I just pushed her away.

I watch the door for a long moment, jaw clenched so tight it aches. Then, forcing every thought of Maya—her taste, her scent, the soft sound she made when I kissed her—to the back of my mind, I answer the damn phone.

"What?" I snap.

Sawyer doesn't even flinch at my tone. "We have a problem," he says, voice grim. "There's been movement from the local hunter cells. They've officially organized under a name—True Humanity."

I go still, my blood turning to ice.

Sawyer continues. "According to my sources, they're planning something big. Theo and I both agree the gala might be their target."

The gala. A high-profile event. A gathering of supernatural leaders. A golden opportunity for hunters to strike.

My mind shifts instantly into strategy mode, pushing aside everything else—trying to, at least. "We need to prepare for every possibility," I say. "I want full security sweeps, background checks on every guest, and—"

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