"You cook a lot?"
"When I'm here."
"Isn't this where you live all the time?"
"Not all the time."
"Just when you want to get away?"
His hands stilled for a moment. This was where he came when pack dynamics got too heavy, or when he needed to run as a wolf without worrying about being spotted by the humans in town.
"Something like that."
His phone buzzed again. Then again. He glanced at it. There were three missed calls from various pack members. Without listening to their messages, he switched it completely off.
"Work or family?" she asked.
Family. Pack. Same thing, different word. "Family."
She didn't push, which he appreciated. Just sipped her coffee and watched him cook. The domestic intimacy of it made his wolf practically purr.
They were putting everything on the table when it happened. Both reached for the hot skillet handle at the same time to bring it to the table. Her hand landed on his, and the contact shot through him like lightning, his wolf surging beneath his skin.
"Sorry," she gasped, but didn't pull away immediately.
"Jules." Her name came out as warning and plea combined.
She stepped back, color high in her cheeks. "Plates are...?"
It took him a second to answer. "Cabinet behind you."
Jules rambled nervously about nothing and everything as they finished getting food on the table, careful not to touch again. He tried to listen to her. Tried to distract himself from the needs of his body. But the damage was done. His wolf was riding him hard now, wanting more.
Wanting everything.
They ate at his small table, knee-bumping close in the intimate space. Every bite she took, every pleased sound she made, tested his control. And when she licked a drop of syrup from her thumb, he had to look away.
"This is really good," she told him. "Thanks for cooking."
He grunted, not trusting his voice.
After breakfast, she insisted on cleaning up while he escaped outside to check the generator that had come on overnight when they lost power. The cold shocked his overheated system a bit but didn't help much. Not when he could still smell her on his clothes.
He knew the generator was fine. He could hear it humming away. He checked it anyway, needing a little distance. Snow had piled up overnight. It was already two feet and climbing. Visibility maybe twenty feet. They were completely cut off.
When he came back inside, she was sitting crosslegged on the couch with her laptop, Fred positioned on the side table where she could see him.
She glanced up. "Is the internet usually good here?"
"It's satellite. Might get sketchy if the storm gets worse."
She nodded, worrying her bottom lip in a way that made him want to bite it for her. "I don't want to be in your way. I can work in the bedroom if you need?—"
"You're fine where you are."
More than fine, his wolf insisted. Perfect. Ours.
He started a fire, then grabbed a book he'd been meaning to finish and took the chair across from her. Opening it to where he'd left off, he tried to read, but twenty minutes later, he'd only managed to read one paragraph. Every shift of her position, every thoughtful sound she made, every tap of keys registered in his hyperaware state.
