“You listened to that?” I’m genuinely surprised.
“I make it a point to study my opponents thoroughly.” His fingers trace the curve of my hip appreciatively. “Though I clearly missed some key details.”
I should be creeped out.
Instead, I’m charmed.
What is happening to me?
Who even am I, lying in bed with a Porkwell, discussing dating and development plans like I’m not the same wolf who led a protest outside his office just last week?
“I suppose I could stay,” I concede, as if doing him a favor. “For research purposes.”
“Of course.” He nods solemnly, though his eyes dance with amusement. “Purely professional.”
“Exactly.” I settle back against his pillows. “And I’ll need your personal cell number. For Wolfstone updates.”
“Already programmed it into your phone. Under ‘Devious Bacon.’”
I gasp in mock outrage. “You went through my phone?”
“It was unlocked.” He doesn’t look remotely sorry.
I should be mad. Instead, I curl against his side, my head finding the surprisingly perfect spot on his shoulder. “We’re going to complicate each other’s lives terribly, you know.”
“Worth it,” he murmurs into my hair. “Some complications are worth having.”
The intimacy is alarming yet thrilling, and I’m unsure how we got here or what happens next. Passionate, frenetic, exhausting—I expected that. But this quiet, tender aftermath? This is entirely new territory.
“I should warn you,” I say, as much to myself as Percy, “I’m terrible at relationships. Especially ones that involve secrecy, controversial politics, and inter-species scandal.”
He makes a low, contented sound, the vibrations sinking into my bones. “Good thing I’m excellent at all those things.”
I bite back a smile. “And so modest, too.”
“You know,” he says, his voice growing sleepy but still full of quiet conviction, “I’ve never met anyone who challenges me the way you do, Ruby. I didn’t expect to… like it so much.”
“Don’t like it too much,” I warn. “I reserve the right to go back to hating you in the morning.”
“Noted.”
Then his breathing deepens, and I realize that this reckless, infuriating male has actually fallen asleep. I’m glad one of us is at peace with the situation. I stare at the ceiling, wide awake.
My mind won’t shut up—replaying every little detail, every touch, every moan.
What the hell was I thinking?
I slip out from under his arm as carefully as I can manage. He shifts slightly but doesn’t wake. It’s tempting to curl back into his warmth and worry about everything later, but that’s how I ended up here in the first place.
I grab my clothes and head to his office. Scribbling my note on a Post-it, I stick it on the model.
“If you remove all the buildings and man-made structures, you might be getting closer to what I had in mind.”
— R
Then, just as I’m about to leave, I see Hamilton’s room. He’s left the door open and I know it’s his by the austere, immaculate decor, and the precise nature to which everything is organized.
I have a terrible idea. A fabulous, terrible idea.
