He couldn’t help his smile. “Among other things.”
Her wolf reacted to that. He read it in the half-second pause before she answered. “Text me your address. I’ll bring the wine.”
Chapter 2
Tuesday stopped by her apartment, both annoyed and grateful for the nuisance of security at the gate, but only stayed long enough to put her own purchases in her fridge and freezer before leaving to take her grandmother’s order to her. She loved her grandmother’s cooking and was looking forward to the promised fried pork chops and mashed potatoes, but most of all, the made-from-scratch carrot cake.
Also, she’d driven the Maserati to pick up the meat, but swapped it out for her SUV to see her grandmother, who was far too practical to appreciate a sports car, and had no idea how much an Audi Q5 with all the bells and whistles cost. Or, maybe she did and just decided not to rag her granddaughter about how she was spending her money. Though, she’d done so multiple times about the impractical sports car. Granted, it’d cost four times more than the SUV.
Three hours later, she was back in her own kitchen and focused on the day-before prep for the Wellington: searing the tenderloin and sliding it into the fridge to chill, then making the duxelles and trimming the prosciutto into a tight, even layer around the meat once it’d cooled.
Letting it all sit together and chill overnight would make the puff pastry wrap easier the following day, before the whole thing went into the oven.
Her kitchen was big for an apartment, and had really good appliances, but wasn’t ideal. The huge island made it work, though. And the quartz counters. She’d rather have one of the latest and greatest ovens, but she didn’tneedit.
She could buy a house if she wanted, but the idea of being responsible for fixing the plumbing, the HVAC, replacing the roof every-so-many years, hiring people to do renovations… just no. Plus, she was often out of town for one to three weeks at a time, and apartments just work better for that.
So she’d found a bougie apartment complex with a large, wooded area behind it, and she’d managed to get a unit right beside the small little forest. It was a twenty-minute drive to pack lands if she wanted to let her wolf out, but having a little bit of forest so close soothed her inner beast.
She finished cleaning the kitchen and wiping everything down, and then it was time to figure out what to wear for a meal and probably,hopefully, a fun fuck with a biker.
She wanted to broadcast the fact she was there to be fucked the moment she stepped out of her car, so she went to the section with her little black dresses. Most people sayyou should have one go-to LBD, but she had a dozen. You don’t wear the same thing to a funeral that you do to a fancy restaurant opening, and neither of those things works as a fuck-me-now dress.
She reached for her black sweater dress and took it to the bathroom. She had scarves that were heavier and more substantial, because this one literallystretchedaround her body, hugging and highlighting every curve.
And she hadlotsof curves. Her NFL-playing father was biracial, which made her a quarter black, but her blonde mother gave her dark brown wavy hair. Her skin wasn’t pasty white, but light enough no one clocked her as anything other than white — unless they met her dad.
But she hadallthe curves from her dad’s side of the family.
So, some time with her trimmer because the hairless look didn’t suit her, but neither did a seventies bush, then a shower, the diffuser on her hair while she scrunched it for some extra waves, makeup with carefully precise eyeliner, sexy lacy undies… and then the dress.
And four-inch heels.
She took a look at herself in the full-length mirror and smiled. She’d been blessed with beautiful hair, abundant tits, and a nice ass — and tonight, she looked like she expected to be fucked.
Traffic was a little heavier than normal, so she left ten minutes earlier than she’d planned, and then let her supercar fly once she hit the interstate.
She’d looked his place up while at her grandmother’s house, even going so far as trying to see his house on the Google street view, but the camera had only caught glimpses of it through the trees.
He didn’t live all that far from his work, but the last couple of miles truly felt like she was in the middle of nowhere.
- - -?- - -
Knife heard the sports car from miles away when it turned onto his street. Why hadn’t he paid attention to what she was driving that morning?
He’d opened his gate ten minutes earlier, and he watched her pull through in a blur on the camera before he closed it behind her with the app on his phone.
He stepped out onto his front porch and nearly goggled when he realized she was driving a Maserati MCPura Cielo, the black lines gleaming under the dying sunlight.
Knife’s father was a race car driver — and a getaway driver for some of the best thieves on the planet. His father had taught him how to drive from the mindset of both, and Knife had driven a lot of supercars, but never this particular one.
And then she stepped out in a dress that looked painted on, and his dick went granite hard.
He’d planned for dessert in the backyard — s’mores around a fire — but the dress made him mentally revise the order of events.
“Sweet ride,” he said, because it was the safest thing he could say while his brain caught up with his body’s reaction.
She smiled up at him from the bottom of the porch steps, and he could tell from the smile that she knew exactly what the dress was doing. “Nice house,” she said. “What I can see of it. Your wolf must love being tucked away in the forest.”
