Focus, Brenna.
Light the stupid candles. Ignore the temptation vibrating from the six feet of sexual energy a few feet away—the one who currently lathered himself with a wet sponge in front of a roaring fireplace while he watched her with a glint in his eye. Damn it! He must know the effect he had on her. He had full werewolf abilities. He’d detect her increased heartrate, her faster breathing, and her arousal.
She cringed.
After searching a few drawers, Brenna found the matches. She milled around, lighting candles and placing them in the kitchen and living room. The soft light flooded the cabin, adding shadows and the soft fragrance of vanilla. She didn’t use all of them. The candles and flashlight batteries needed to last. They might be holed up here for days.
Days.
Alone with Eric Buchanan in a candle-lit, secluded cabin.
Another deep breath.
She switched off the flashlight and turned to Eric.
He sat in front of the fire, leaning back and supporting himself with his arms. The light from the roaring fire licked his chest and highlighted his well-defined abs.
As if he sensed the weight of her attention, he turned, and his green gaze locked with hers. Images overtook her mind—their naked bodies entangled in the dancing light of the fire, his hard body pressed against hers, Eric leaning back wearing the same content expression he wore now as she straddled him.
Maisie prodded her brain.You could have that.
Brenna squeezed her thighs together as heat pooled between her legs—legs she’d like him to part with his hands before delving his tongue—
“Brenna?” Eric called to her. “Join me?” He patted the space on the rug beside him.
She didn’t like Eric Buchanan. He broke her heart.
Maisie snorted.Get over it already.
I’ll never have a true mate because of him, and nothing we do now will change that.
Meh, Maisie managed to pour a physical shrug into her voice.You weren’t true mates with those other guys you brought to our bed.
Brenna sighed, ignored the werewolf, and walked over to Eric. If they didn’t have history, she probably wouldn’t hesitate to join him, even if it was only for a physical liaison, and not a relationship or a promise of one. Girls had needs, too.
But she had history with Eric.
They hadn’t dated. One serious conversation followed with his…
Brenna shook her head. She’d fallen for his charm.
After nursing a raging crush on him for all through high school, she forgave him for the years of torment after one well-acted “heartfelt” confession and apology. She completely fell for his, “I’m a different person” routine. Then, he proved he was exactly who she originally thought—a playboy jerk. An alpha’s arrogant son who deemed himself too important and powerful to slum it with a null. A month later, when she turned eighteen and felt the tug of the bond, she realized the extent of his rejection.
She sat down beside said jerk, crossed her legs, and leaned back. The heat of the fire rolled over her and her chocolate-soaked clothes. She should probably clean them as Eric had, but that would involve undressing.
She wasn’t the same person she was in high school. Maybe Eric had grown as well. Her parents certainly thought well of him, though they didn’t know their history. No one did. Too mortified to share how her true mate didn’t want a null, she’d kept the truth a secret. She avoided this cabin, this place, leaving after high school and never looking back. But her family vacationed and stayed in touch with Eric’s parents, wanting to stay on friendly terms with the larger, more powerful pack. Mom and Dad gushed and regaled her with the latest information on Eric, painting him as an accomplished gentleman.
Maybe the reality matched the fantasy she’d created over the years.
She glanced over to find him studying her with those green eyes.
Maybe he’d finally grown up.
They shared a smile.
He straightened and leaned forward.
Her heart leapt into her chest, her breath staggered and paused. What would she do if he tried to kiss her?
