I pull up to where I’m sitting in his lap, the steering wheel pressed against my ass. His hands are on my waist, and I like that he doesn't pull back.
“I didn’t mean to cry all over your shirt,” I say, looking at the small tear stain.
The purr of his chest has slowed, almost nearly nonexistent now, and I kinda want it to come back.
His one hand comes up, and the pads of his fingers wipe away my tears.
“You can come and stay at my place if your grandmother is a problem,” he says.
I smile, a typical man trying to solve shit and not talk about it.
“I have my own apartment over the garage. Not that I wouldn’t mind staying over at your place sometime.”
“Other than your grandma, you’ve been okay?” he asks, and I nod my head.
“Been busy getting things together for an event. Helping some guys with their social media presence.”
“Who?” he asks.
“Ethan and Connery.”
He scoffs at Connery’s name; I don’t miss that for a second.
“Who the fuck is Ethan?” he asks.
“Oh my God, you’re just as bad as my dad. Ethan is Finnegan the Fox. The mascot,” I reiterate.
“Why the mascot?” he questions.
“I’m going to make him an internet sensation,” I reply with a smile.
He squeezes my hips, pushing me down on his lap. This certainly isn’t the same Alpha who said he wanted to take things slow, but I’m definitely not mad at it. My Mormor’s words ring in my ears, and I wonder if I even have time to take things slow.
Maybe it’s because I’m hot boxing his car or that I’m pressed against his dick, but I’m definitely not complaining about the way he’s looking at me right now. Bram always has an intensity about him, but it’s different from the man I’ve witnessed on the ice many times.
“I don’t like Connery,” he says, still looking at me intensely and holding me close.
“Why not?” I ask, and he shrugs his shoulders like I should know the answer. “He’s my friend.”
“Just your friend?” he asks, his body tensing in a not fun way beneath me.
“Yes,” I reply, not lying. Max is only my friend, but I do find him handsome and charming. But if Bram really doesn’t like him, he will need to stay a friend.
His grip loosens, and I don’t like that one bit.
I drag my nails over his beard, glancing down at the soft lips I haven’t stopped thinking about for days.
“There’s only one Alpha’s lap that I’m sitting on right now. Only one who wiped away my tears and who sent me my favorite flowers,” I say.
He licks his lips, and his brown gaze meets mine.
“I’m glad you liked them.”
“Do you know what I’d like even more?” I ask.
“What’s that?”
He shifts me on his lap, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act like a decent woman when he’s so hard and muscular underneath of me.
