Page 7 of Ice Wolf
“I have not.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve talked about finding the love of your life, settling down, and raising a family since the day I met you. We were like ten!”
She had me laughing. Sadly, she was right.
“Hmmm… Maybe you’re right, but it does have to be the right man.” Was I ready for marriage? More important, was Damien marriage material? Settling down and the whole kids and an SUV bit? My face visibly paled. Maybe not just yet. Living shouldcome first. I glanced at my ring finger. Vicky was right about one thing. I’d always believed in finding my perfect mate. The kind of alpha male who swept me off my feet and refused to take no for an answer.
A man who’d fight like a gladiator if necessary to keep me safe, tearing apart every other man who dared look in my direction then came home with four dozen roses in his arms.
I envisioned a big, buff man whose shoulders barely fit through a doorway.
Closing my eyes, I allowed an indulgence of envisioning my perfect man. Tall and dark with thick hair. Right now, in the wickedness of my sinful mind, he’d just stepped from the shower, his hair glistening and tousled.
Just like the man who’d railroaded his way into my world the night before. Oh, this was bad. Having fantasies about an unknown stranger thirty minutes before meeting my boyfriend shoved me into the sinful girl category. Another image flashed in front of my eyes and I hissed.
A barrel of a chest with perfect eight-pack abs. Forget about six. I wanted every delicious inch of my man to be chiseled like stone. The deep V would lead to a thick, throbbing cock, the tip glistening with pre-cum.
Wow. Now I was hot and bothered. A tiny moan slipped past my lips.
“Earth to my best friend. Are you thinking about having filthy sex later because I don’t want to hear it. I haven’t had sex since God was a baby.” Vicky snorted.
“Trust me, girlfriend. Having a boyfriend does not mean you spend every night in the throes of kinky passion.”
“Don’t ruin my fantasy.”
Laughing, I glanced at my phone, noticing the time. “I need to go, girlie. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Think of it this way. Maybe a wonderful ending to a terrible day. I’m sorry about your job, but I believe in karma and that everything happens for a reason. Something better is coming your way. Just trust me.”
“Trust you? The girl who had me purchase that ugly yellow dress two years ago? I don’t think so.” At least we could laugh together. “I know what you mean. I’ll try and look at the bright side.”
As we hung up, I glared at my frowning face. For me, the bright side almost always had dark shadows waiting to engulf me, sucking me into a foreboding abyss. Maybe I was being a little dramatic, but right now, I had a very bad feeling that things were going to get much worse before they got better.
I took a step back, nodding approvingly before grabbing my bottle of perfume. A treat from my mother for my birthday. Damien should eat his heart out tonight.
He better.
Or I’d shove his face into his tiramisu.
“Dinner was wonderful,” I said as the waiter refilled our glasses of wine. Damien had gone all out, ordering a full bottle insteadof just a glass, suggesting I order the most expensive thing on the menu.
Which I had.
Now he was splurging with the very dessert he couldn’t seem to get enough of and one I couldn’t stand.
As he licked whipped cream off his spoon, his eyes became hooded. I was certain the man was going to have an orgasm in the middle of the restaurant.
“You sure you don’t want a bite?” he asked when he noticed I was staring at him.
“No. I’m having too much fun watching you. So, what did you want to talk about?”
He suddenly seemed annoyed I was taking him away from his treat. His dark gaze was darted in my direction. Finally, he pushed the dish away, staring me directly in the eyes. “I know you’ve had a very bad day. Losing a job is never easy, but maybe it’s for the best.”
For the best. Why did everyone always say that?
“It’s been difficult, but that’s okay. I’ll find another job. Maybe I’ll work on my novel while I search.”
His snort instantly irritated me. “You should give up the idea of being a writer, Lily. Let’s face it. You’ve been working on that damn book of yours for what, five years? I think it’s time to reconsider working with your father.”
