10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

J asmine

The next morning, I pace my kitchen, nursing my second cup of coffee and trying not to obsess over the day ahead. It's just another workday, I tell myself firmly. Just because Bold and I will be spending hours together upgrading my office security doesn't mean anything has to change.

Right. Because I'm totally not hyper-aware of his presence, his scent, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and those forbidden fangs. And don't even get me started on that fur on his shoulders. I rested my head against it far too long last night, far too indulgently. If I was just a little more courageous, I would have run my fingers through it.

A knock at the door startles me out of my musings and I nearly slosh coffee down my front. Smoothing my hair, I take a deep breath and open the door to find Bold waiting, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Morning," he greets me, holding up a couple of Little Janie's individually wrapped honey buns. Really? Someone thought it was a good idea to stock a wolven's granny pod with junk food?

"Thought we could use some brain food before we dive in. Do you think Little Janie invented these? They're delicious. I've already eaten half the box."

My stomach rumbles on cue and I grin, some of my anxiety easing. "You're officially my hero. Let me just grab my stuff and we can head out."

The drive to the office is filled with our usual easy banter as we munch on Little Janies and argue good-naturedly over the radio station. It feels normal, comfortable, and I let myself relax into the familiar rhythm.

When we arrive, a mound of Amazon packages awaits in the hallway outside the office door. Bold insists on carrying the bulk of the new equipment, his biceps flexing impressively as he hoists the boxes. I avert my eyes, busying myself with unlocking the door and definitely not thinking about what those arms would feel like wrapped around me.

After we get to work, the next couple of hours fly by in a flurry of activity. Bold handles the physical installation of the cameras and motion sensors while I focus on configuring the monitoring software on my laptop. Since he's spending much of his time on a ladder, I'm elected his official tool caddy. Thanks to this project, I now know the difference between a flathead and a Phillips screwdriver.

As I watch Bold stretch to adjust a camera angle, his shirt riding up to reveal a narrow strip of his taut, tanned stomach, I find myself fighting the urge to run my fingers along the divots of the six-pack I know is hiding under the black tee—or maybe trace it with my tongue.

I finally finish connecting the new wireless cameras to my computer and cell phone. After testing every angle, I find most are focused with precision. One, however, is aimed a bit high.

"Bold?" I call. "Can you adjust the front door camera? It needs to be pointed down about twenty degrees."

Although I'm sure he's caught me staring, Bold, gentleman that he is, doesn't point out that I would have gotten it right the first time if I hadn't been ogling him.

"Sure thing," he says easily, grabbing the ladder. He positions it under the camera and climbs up, his back muscles rippling under his tee as he reaches to make the adjustment. I find myself staring again, my mouth going a little dry.

Get it together, Jasmine.

Forcing my attention back to the computer screen, I fiddle with settings I've already configured just to keep my hands busy. I can't stop sneaking glances at Bold from the corner of my eye, something hot and restless coiling in my belly.

After a few moments, Bold hops down from the ladder and comes to peer over my shoulder at the laptop. "How's that?"

His chest brushes my back as he leans in to see the screen, and I have to suppress a shiver. He smells amazing, like a forest and something warm and addictively masculine. It's incredibly distracting. And delicious.

"Uh, yeah. Looks great," I manage, my voice coming out a little rough. I clear my throat. "I think that's the last of it. We should test the motion sensors before Lydia arrives for her appointment."

Bold nods, stepping back, and I try not to feel bereft at his absence. "Lead the way."

We run through the various sensors, deliberately triggering the alarms to ensure they're functioning properly, then shut them off with the phone controls. The piercing chirps echo through the office as we move from room to room, Bold shadowing me like a muscular second skin.

By the time we finish, my heart is racing for an entirely different reason than the blaring sirens. My skin feels too tight, every nerve ending humming with a sudden, reckless desire.

I'm not an impulsive person. All those hours locked in my room at Nature's Edge taught me a lot of self-control. But all higher thought has flown out the window. All that's pulsing through my mind is want, want, want, need, need, need. It's been growing more insistent by the second and for the life of me, I can't find a reason not to follow my instincts.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I turn abruptly and fist my hands in Bold's shirt, tugging him down to crash my lips against his.

My body is on fire, my mind watching from a distance as Bold stands frozen in shock, his muscles tensing as though he's having a heated debate with himself. With a deep, labored groan, he finally gives in to the unbearable heat arcing between us. His tight back muscles soften beneath my palms as our lips clash in a passionate collision that leaves me gasping for air and makes my nerve endings go haywire.

My nipples harden, so desperate and needy that I press myself more closely against his chest, needing the friction, the heat.

His muscular arms wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me flush so our bodies are pressed together with no room to spare. His cock pulses against my belly, a blatant statement that he's just as aroused as I am. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His delving tongue and harsh breaths cause my senses to short-circuit.

As our tongues dance and our breath mingles, I can't help but notice the dangerous presence of his fangs. Rather than terrifying me, I'm drawn to them, absently wondering what they'll feel like when he nips my neck with them.

I slide my fingers through his hair, then abandon that tack so my hands can travel the length of his chest, my fingertips finding and tracing the hills and dips of his muscles. I'm desperate to touch him, map him, commit every inch of him to memory.

I want to card my fingers through the silken hair of his shoulder pelt, to furrow deep to the muscles underneath. But first, I'm compelled to seek out his wolf-like ears, to feel their soft brush against my fingertips.

Surrendering to my impulse, I slide my hand up his neck until I feel the velvety smoothness of their furred edges. Softer than I imagined, the touch is so sensuous my stomach quivers in response.

"Bold!" I want to say volumes more, to exclaim about his soft hair and firm slabs of muscles, and mention his intoxicating fresh taste. But I can't say all of that because my lips are too busy kissing him.

He growls against my lips, low and rumbling, before nipping his flat front teeth lightly at my bottom one. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core. His kiss intensifies even more now that he's given in to this forbidden desire.

After whispering hot breaths against my skin as he nuzzles my neck, he laps at the column of my throat. "You taste so good. I want to lick every inch of you."

My neurons zap as though I've been struck by lightning when I picture him doing just that: his not-quite-human tongue, those sharp fangs, lapping at my most intimate places. My heart races as I clutch his shirt, pulling him closer still. The scent of his skin is intoxicating; it's like fresh rain and pine needles mixed with the mundane smells of my low-rent office.

As our lips meet again in another fevered kiss, his fangs graze my lower lip, teasing, igniting something deep inside me. I'm burning with such hot desperation I'm barely aware of the soft, needy noises I'm making—half purr, half whine. He pulls back just enough to gaze into my eyes, his silvery-blue irises burning with desire and something else—something primal.

The electric touch of his firm body against mine ignites a fire within me. I can't help but notice that he's repositioned himself so his hard length presses firmly between my legs, at exactly the right spot to stoke the flames even higher.

As I gasp into his mouth, I'm consumed by a passion unlike anything I've known before. Bold's lips move with purpose and precision, each stroke of his tongue setting off sparks through my body. His hands roam my back, stopped by invisible boundaries I never established.

My breath catches in my throat as Bold spins us around, pressing me back against the wall. His muscular build envelops me, leaving me deliciously overwhelmed and powerless to resist. A rush of pleasure rushes through me as he wedges a hard thigh between my legs, intensifying the desire coursing through my veins.

The urge to give in to this forbidden pleasure consumes me, even though I know it's inappropriate. But when Bold kisses me like he's a male possessed, unable to get enough of my taste, all thoughts of right and wrong disappear into thin air.

Just as I quit fighting my desires and begin grinding against his thigh, one of the motion sensors triggers the alarm again. The shrill beeping cuts through my haze of arousal like a bucket of ice water.

I jerk back, panting harshly, horribly aware of what we were doing. Oh God, what was I thinking? I fumble for the phone and shut off the alarm as I breathe a sigh of relief that Lydia didn't walk in on her therapist kissing her bodyguard. Was that even a kiss? There has to be a different word for that. It doesn't do it justice, like calling the Amazon River a creek.

Bold looks equally dazed, his eyes the color of the sky before an afternoon thunderstorm, his breaths coming in little pants as he breathes through his mouth, his fangs more on display than usual. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to dive right back in and lose myself in his kiss again.

"Jasmine." His voice is low, rough. He reaches for me, but I stumble back a step, holding up a hand to ward him off.

"Don't. We can't. That was…" I swallow hard, trying to gather the shards of my composure. "Selfish. It can't happen again."

Bold's expression shutters, his features crumpling before going carefully blank. I feel it like a fist around my heart.

"Right. Of course. A mistake."

I flinch at the word because I know it's true. A mistake. A lapse in judgment. Something we need to forget ever happened.

"I'm sorry," I manage, my voice wavering. "I shouldn't have… You work for me, Bold. We have to keep things professional."

He nods stiffly, and I can see the tension in the corded muscles of his neck, the tightness in his jaw. "Understood."

When Lydia arrives, I conduct the first part of my session on autopilot, even though it's thoroughly unprofessional. Finally, I wrap my head around what just transpired between Bold and me. It was the single most arousing moment of my life, yet I truly regret it. We weren't meant to be together like that. The idea of a relationship with him is doomed.

The drive home is awkward and silent, the air thick with all the things we aren't saying. When we part midway between his pod and my front door, I flee into my house without looking back, afraid I'll do something stupid like turn, throw myself into his arms, and beg him to kiss me again.

Once inside, as I lean against my front door, my fingers trembling as they rise to touch my lips, I can't help but wonder…

What if that kiss wasn't a mistake after all?

What if it was the start of something incredible?