Page 13 of Lone Wolf

And I was seriously considering it.

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Darkness blanketed the alley outside my office window. A bell rang down the hallway, ripping me from my staring match with the scenic view of the alley behind the inn. It wasn’t that interesting. I just needed something to do that didn’t involve Matéo.

Thinking of him, drooling over him, drawing him in my sketchbook—those were all no-no’s that I simply couldn’t afford. I had a marketing department to run. I had a bunch of employees to keep in line for our next campaign. I had two of my soul sisters driving me up a wall about wedding plans and one who was so snotty about marriage that I didn’t think I could handle another joke at the expense of the others.

Gods, I was getting torn apart.

After making sure everything was in order, I grabbed the tray and whisked it away to the service elevator, hoping my reflection wouldn’t chide me for completely and utterly failing to keep Matéo out of my mind.

What could I say? I was a lonely girl sometimes. And lonely girls liked to fantasize every so often.

Especially when it came to a sculpted man like Matéo.

The elevatordingedthrough the fuzziness of my brain and set me right back into the present. Within seconds, I had the tray set in front of the Orchid Suite with a sweet note tucked beneath the covering. It was simple, really, just a thank you note for having my back at the diner.

I frowned while lingering near the elevator. Was this too impersonal? Too much of a snub? The way he looked at me was too dangerous to deliver this myself.

Yet there I was standing like a horny cheerleader waiting for the cute high school jock to jog past me on the football field.

I groaned while marching toward the door. To hell with the pinch between my thighs. I was a professional—and I was going to act like one.

As before, the door opened before I could knock. Matéo glanced between me and the tray, the tray and me, and then peered over my shoulder. He was wearing jeans now. And a t-shirt.

I tried not to let my disappointment show.

He grinned. “Help me carry it inside?”

“I’m sure you can manage—”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

His tone was so casual, so deeply grating that it made me snatch the tray from the ground and march inside the room. I set it gently on the table near the window. When I folded my hands together and faced him, he crossed his arms over his chest.

And something about that made me want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

“I, uh…” I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders. I could face the heat. I could handle desire. No problem. “Do you need anything else before I go?”

“Yes, I do.”

I raised my eyebrows, expecting him to ask for towels, napkins, steak sauce, or something remarkably normal.

But not what came from his mouth. Not the very thing that dripped from his lips like honey. Not the softest request in the entire world.

“You,” he whispered. “I needyou, Rose.”

My responding mewl drove him into action. He closed the space between us in half a second, scooping me up onto the table and planting me strategically next to the tray. The silverware clattered on the plate underneath the covering, causing me to squeak as he planted himself between my legs.

He hardened instantly. Or maybe he was hard all along. I wasn’t looking. I was trying so hardnotto look that I’d missed his arousal entirely.

But not mine. I was too obvious, too eager.

He nuzzled into my neck, nibbling at the vein pulsing in my throat. I moaned weakly as I dug my nails into his back, exposing as much of my body to him as possible. My eyes rolled back when his teeth scraped my flesh. He took his time consuming me, raking me into his mouth like I was an artichoke heart he was desperate to taste.

“Matéo…”

He lifted his head, pressing his forehead to my cheek as he drew back an inch. I fought desperately for him to return, grabbing his bottom and yanking him into me.

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