His stomach chose that moment to emit a loud, embarrassing growl.
Lamont’s serious expression cracked into a smile. “When did we last eat?”
Ewen glanced at the window. It was fully dark outside. “Breakfast. What time is it?”
“Almost eight.” Lamont stood and stretched, and Ewen tried not to stare at the way his shirt rode up to reveal a strip of toned abdomen. “We should eat something.”
“Yeah.” Ewen’s stomach rumbled again, but food wasn’t actually the first thing on his mind anymore. Watching Lamont work had been unexpectedly attractive. The sharp focus, the quick mind, the way he’d gone protective and fierce when they’d identified Arcturus as Ewen’s possible kidnappers…his fox had been paying attention to it all.
“Do you want to go out?” Lamont asked. “There’s a decent Italian place two blocks over, or we could…”
“No.” The word came out more forcefully than Ewen intended. He softened his tone. “I’d rather have an intimate meal at home here with you.”
Something shifted in Lamont’s expression. Heat flickered in those dark eyes before his face gentled into something warm and pleased. “I can make that happen. Give me five minutes?”
“Take your time.”
Lamont headed toward the kitchen, and Ewen felt what was becoming a familiar buzz, Lamont’s particular brand of magic. It was like a soft displacement of air that meant he’d conjured something from wherever hellhounds sourced their materialized items.
Alone in the office, Ewen leaned back in the chair, easing the ache in his back and letting himself breathe.
Working with Lamont had been incredible. It was no wonder that Lamont was an acclaimed freelance investigative journalist in his own right. But for Ewen, who had always read Lamont’sarticles and thought, “I want to be you when I grow up,” working with him now seemed so easy. The way they’d moved together, anticipated each other’s thoughts, built on each other’s insights without ego or competition getting in the way. Ewen had always been self-reliant by necessity, but having a partnership with someone who matched his drive and dedication to finding the truth felt natural in a way he hadn’t expected.
His fox stirred, reminding him of another need. They’d been patient. Ewen had needed time to heal, and it had been fun spending time with Lamont, learning his rhythm and habits, and yes, learning to trust him as well. Ewen thought back to when they’d gotten back from his wrecked hotel room - how Lamont looked as though he wanted to pull Ewen into his arms and keep him there. But he hadn’t -he’d let me set the pace of what I need,Ewen realized.
But now, after spending three nights sleeping in their mate’s arms, without the claiming bite Ewen’s fox craved…Ewen was done being patient.
The mating bond was there and had been since Lamont’s hound received his collar. It hummed between them, warm, golden…and incomplete. The hound had got his collar - Ewen’s fox wanted his teeth in Lamont’s neck. Ewen wanted to sink into Lamont’s arms and feel that final connection snap into place. It was time for him to stop holding back and just take what they both needed.
It’s not like it was going to be a hardship. Ewen wanted Lamont with a hunger that had nothing to do with the food currently being prepared in the other room.
Watching Lamont work had been unexpectedly erotic. The intensity of his focus, the careful precision of his questions, the way he came up with connections Ewen hadn’t even thoughtof. All of that appealed to Ewen on a level that went beyond simple attraction. Put simply, Lamont was a brilliant journalist, a protective hound, and a sexy man. Ewen wanted him.
More than that, Ewen felt safe enough to want himthat way. Taking someone’s cock into his body was an act of trust in itself, but Ewen knew he felt secure enough to let himself be vulnerable in a way he’d never allowed before.
His fox was quivering with anticipation at the very idea.
We’ll do it after dinner,Ewen was comfortable with his decision. They’d eat, get cleaned up, settle somewhere comfortable, and somewhere in all that, Ewen would’ve worked up the courage to say the words out loud instead of just thinking them.
I’m ready. I want you. Take me to bed.
His face was heated just thinking about it, but foxes weren’t particularly subtle creatures, and Ewen had never been good at playing coy. If he wanted something, he went after it. And he wanted Lamont - the physical claim, the intimacy, the completion of the bond that had been pulling at him since the moment his fox had recognized their mate at Pier888. Ewen wanted everything.
“Food’s ready,” Lamont called from the other room.
Ewen stood, smoothed down his borrowed shirt, and took a steadying breath.After dinner. He could make it through dinner. Probably.It depends on what Lamont has zapped up. I mean, a fox has to eat, and with luck, I’ll need the energy later.
Chapter Fifteen
Lamont had been planning a special meal since the moment he’d found Ewen in that damn textile factory, but the time hadn’t seemed right until now.
The table was set with actual candles. None of the random battery-operated ones would do. These candles had real wax tapers in simple holders that cast warm, flickering light across the polished wood. A bottle of Château Margaux sat in a wine bucket beside the table, the dark glass already beading with condensation. Lamont had selected it specifically because it was the kind of wine that deserved to be savored, the kind that complemented good food and better company.
The food itself was a recreation, in part of the delicious foods that had been available on the menu of Pier888 on the Nile. The sort of meal that Ewen should have enjoyed before everything went sideways. Tender beef medallions in a rich wine reduction, roasted vegetables with herbs, and fresh bread that was still warm enough to release steam when broken open. It was a simple meal, but Lamont could scent that every mouthful was going to be delicious.
When Ewen emerged from the office, Lamont’s hound immediately perked up. Ewen’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes seemed brighter than usual, and there was something about the way he moved that made Lamont’s body respond with an urgency that had nothing to do with the smell coming from the dining table. Lamont subtly adjusted himself, willing his erection to behave.
Not yet. Dinner first. Show him you can do this properly.
