Page 66 of Claimed

Behind the door, I open the envelope and pull out the small, blue glass bottle. Pretty small for the money I spent. I hope it wasn’t a waste of money as I break the perforated plastic seal. It takes me a couple minutes to figure out how to unscrew the lid, but when I do and see a rollerball. I shake it, then tip the vial and roll some on my wrist before I put my nose to my skin.

Interesting scent. Not sure I love it, but if it’ll drive Jason Creed wild I’d fuckingbathein it.

I use the facilities, wash my hands, and look in the mirror, fixing my slightly askew eyeglasses. I shorten my bra straps by two inches to give myself a bit more perkiness, unbutton the top button of my sweater, sniff my wrist again, then mosey out.

“What ‘cha doing?” I ask Stacy, who is rooting through the fridge.

“Gonna put a snack platter together,” she tells me. “If you think that’s okay?”

“Better than okay. Just gonna go talk to Jase outside. Be right back.”

“Okay!” she replies enthusiastically and pulls more food out of the fridge.

I mosey outside, feeling just a little wobbly. When I get to the door, I take a deep breath and compose myself.

When I get outside I’m disappointed to see Grey is home already. He’s talking to Jase in the driveway.

Both their gazes swing towards me and they halt their conversation. My brother’s forehead crinkles a little and his nostrils flare as he closes Stacy’s suitcase on the roof of his car.

Oh shit; is he smelling the pheromone perfume? I stumble a little, but make a decent recovery (I think), greeting, “Heya!”

“You drinkin’ in there, Bailey?” Grey asks.

“What if I am?”

“Smells like it,” he mutters, then asks, “My mate, too?”

“Uh, yup. She’s making us a snack platter right now.”

He looks a little surprised.

“Hungry Jase?” I ask, stopping less than a foot away from him. I stare up at his face. He’s so tall. He’s so hot. So very hot. I’ve had this crush on him since I was a little kid, and it went from simmering to a rapid boil once I hit puberty. But I think it all started that day he lifted me off the ground after I scraped my knees falling after his horrible, insufferable, bully sister tripped me. He dusted gravel off my knees and I didn’t even want Mom to disinfect them when I got home because of what I felt inside myself when he touched me. I could still feel his touch and I didn’t want her to wash it away.

Once I hit puberty, I started having recurring dreams of him picking me up off the ground, dusting the gravel off, then giving me his mate mark. My throat often tingles when we make eye contact like my body is gearing up and anticipating it. Sometimes I swear I could just bare my throat and shout, “Just do it already, Jason! We both know I’m yours!”

Sadly, he doesn’t know it.

“Later, Jase. Thanks again,” Grey says, on the move toward the house with Stacy’s suitcase in hand.

“You’re not driving home,” Jase tells me while two-finger-saluting my brother. “You’re shitfaced.”

“Pff. Course not. I can walk. I can practically see the roof of my house from here.” I gesture. Jase looks the way my finger is pointing and I admire his profile. His jawline, which is stubbled with facial hair that’s a touch darker than the hair on his head. Man, does it look soft...

“What you doin’?” he asks, shrugging me off.

Oops. My hand is on his jaw.

“You had a little fluff there,” I dust my hands off on my denim skirt.

“I’ll drive your car. Get in.”

“Lemme go saybyeto those guys first,” I say excitedly, admiring the way his jeans fit as he walks to my car.

Maybe this perfume is working! Maybe he wants me alone before he reacts to it. Ooh…wahoo and whoopee! Maybe we’re going to make out in the car!

“Today sometime?” he prompts, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

I unglue my feet from the driveway and giggle, then skip inside and call out, “Okay, bye! Love you, Grey! Loved hangin’ with you Stacy. See you guys soon!”

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