Chapter 6 - Bailey

I stay away from Gina all night.

Even though I’m tempted to bring her something to eat or ask how she’s feeling, I don’t go to her. When I hear her run a bath, I keep myself busy so she doesn’t feel like I’m intruding on her.

After she finishes, she heads to the kitchen. I’m torn—is it polite to speak to her now, or would it seem as if I’m ignoring her if I don’t? In the end, I just stay in my room for one simple reason.

I can’t keep my hands off her.

Wanting her is torture, but I can’t get enough of it. Her scent is driving me mad, and I think I’d rather be insane than live without it.

When I wake up in the morning, I realize that she never came to bed. The disappointment aches in my chest like a ragged scar.

I wish I could make it all up to her.

I’ve never wanted anything more. I can’t stop thinking about her tortured eyes and the tremble in her voice. She doesn’t want to be here, it’s obvious. She’s trapped, and it’s my fault.

A trapped wolf could gnaw off its own foot to regain its freedom.

I can’t stand the thought of hurting her. But I can’t lose her, either.

When I head downstairs, I find Gina sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. I see that she’s made a fresh pot of coffee and get myself a cup before I sit down.

“Good morning,” I say, trying to sound bright and cheerful. I realize it’s the lamest line ever spoken, but I don’t know what else to say.

How about, you’re so hot, my fingers are still on fire, and my cock has been hard as a steel rod for twelve hours straight?

Probably shouldn’t say that.

“Good morning, Bae,” she answers. She’s holding her cup in front of her, balanced on her fingertips. All I can see is her pretty blue eyes looking at me over the rim of the mug.

“Did you sleep well?” I ask. Another lame line. I also feel like I just stumbled straight into the danger zone.

“Fine,” she says, her tone flat. “You?”

I did not sleep well at all. I tossed and turned, reliving the fire of her kiss in every single cell. All I can think about is kissing her again.

Every single delicious inch of her.

“Bae?” Gina asks, dragging me back to the present. “Did you sleep well?”

I shake my head slowly. “No, I did not.”

I keep my eyes on hers, letting the intensity build. We can’t run from this—we’re fated mates. We have to figure it out.

I know she wants me. I could feel it in her kiss.

“Well, they have something for that,” she says flippantly. “It’s called a cold shower.”

I see her grin for just a split second before she takes another sip of coffee. I’m stuck between being mad about getting rejected and laughing at her quick line and coy expression.

I know she wants me.

“Maybe you should take one yourself,” I shoot back. “Things seemed to be getting pretty hot on your end… and if you’d like to try the therapy, I’ll stand in, observe, and take notes.”

She nods sagely. “For the purposes of research, of course.”

“Of course,” I reply, grinning. Now I’m thinking of her standing under cold water, slowly lathering up her gorgeous breasts with silky white soap—

“I didn’t really get that hot,” she says casually. She blinks her gorgeous long lashes and gives me a sly side-eye. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one needing treatment.”

“Does that mean you’ll stand in and watch? For… research purposes?” I’d love to put on a show for her.

Let’s see you keep your cool while I slowly lather myself up right in front of you.

“I think I’ve done enough research on the subject,” she says firmly. I can see that playful side of her shutting down, and I don’t want to let it go.

I get up and slide my chair over to her so our bodies are close. She wants me. I can feel it.

“Really?” I whisper it in her ear, letting my breath tickle her cheek.

She turns and glares at me, her eyes glinting like steel. “Really.”

She says it with such finality, I just get up and go to work, leaving my untouched coffee on the table. I mutter a goodbye as I open the door, but she doesn’t answer me.

I can’t stop analyzing everything that happened last night. It really seems like she wants me, but if that was true, would she be able to hide it? My need for her is too strong for me to let her go, but I can’t stand the sight of her misery, either.

My day unfolds as normal in spite of my distracted thoughts. As I break for lunch, I look across the street at the line of stores, and for the first time, I realize that one of them is a music store.

Gina loves music!

I feel like a prime idiot to have overlooked such a thing. She played piano at all the school recitals and at most events. I loved listening to her play.

I hurry home at the end of the day, eager to tell her I might have found her a job. When I come into the kitchen, I’m surprised to find her cooking dinner. She seems very comfortable in the kitchen, and I feel a surge of hope for us. If she can make a gesture like this, surely she wants to stay with me.

“Cooking dinner?” I ask hopefully.

She nods, glancing up at me. Her expression is guarded, and I can’t read it.

“I needed to do something. I was restless just sitting around.”

“Speaking of that,” I say, sitting down, “I think there might be a good job opportunity in town, if you’re interested.”

Gina looks up at me, and I’m struck again by her wide blue eyes. They seem to shine like crystals in the right light.

“Oh?” she replies, sitting down. “There didn’t seem to be when I was in town.”

“There’s a music store across from the gym,” I say, looking for a reaction. “I thought you would like something like that.”

I see a flicker in her eyes, and after a few seconds, she actually smiles. I feel pleasure crackling through me. Not just relief, but a fierce sense of accomplishment that I made her happy.

“Sure,” she says, still grinning. “I’ll take a look tomorrow.”

Over dinner, I get her talking about her life in Denver. I’m amazed by how independent and strong she became once she left our small town.

“The first night I played, I was so nervous, I couldn’t breathe,” she laughs. “It’s such a tiny little club. Like, seriously, you’d be lucky to fit a hundred people in there. But to me, it felt like I was playing at The New York Philharmonic.”

I nod to urge her on, not wanting to cut her off. I keep my mouth busy digging into the stew she made, which is incredibly good.

I didn’t know she could cook. What else about her do I not know?

“Well, my friends practically dragged me onto the tiny stage,” she continued. “I’d had a few glasses of wine, so I couldn’t protest too much. I was so nervous! Then someone called out ‘Camptown Ladies!’ and since I actually know how to play it, I just went for it.”

She pauses for a moment, and I can see she’s caught in the memory. Her cheeks color with a slight blush, and her eyes stare dreamily into the distance.

“After that, I just kept playing. I finished with something I composed myself. I was up there for almost two hours, and no one even noticed! They kept screaming for more.”

She giggles, and I realize I’ve never heard her giggle before. The look on her face is excited and bashful all at once.

“I thought it would be a one-time thing, but they begged me to come back. After that, I played almost every night.”

“I would love to hear you play,” I say softly.

She looks up at me, guarding her expression straight away. “I’ll need a piano, then.”

“I’ll find you one,” I swear, meaning it.

We finish dinner, and Gina brings out a chocolate cake she baked. I’m really encouraged by the effort she has put into dinner and taking so much time to talk to me.

Maybe the kiss really did shake something up. For both of us.

By the time we go to bed, she has gone quiet again, but comes to bed with me. I lay there, listening to her breathing, feeling every single one of my muscles strung tight like hot wire.

The urge to reach over and kiss her is almost overwhelming. Her scent floods my senses, and my mind is full of the feel of her curves in my hands. Now that I’ve touched her, tasted her, I know I’ll never get enough of her.

As her breathing slows, I try to relax and let myself drop off to sleep. I can only hope things between us continue to improve, but I think today has been an excellent start.

The next day, Gina wakes up early with me and goes straight into the music store while I open the gym. A short while later, she comes to tell me she got the job and can start the next day. I’m stacking boxes of resistance bands by the counter when she walks in. I turn around, expecting to see a customer, and I’m shocked to see it’s Gina.

“Bae!” she says, breathless with excitement. “I got it! I can start tomorrow morning.”

“That’s great news,” I answer, smiling. “What will you be doing?”

“Normal retail stuff, serving and shopkeeping, but he hired me because of my musical background. A musician can actually engage well instead of just selling stuff, and it might lead to teaching lessons as well.”

“I’m really happy for you, babe,” I say, meaning it. It had never occurred to me that she’d want to work. I can provide for her, and I feel like I should, but working is obviously very important to her.

“I just—” she shakes her head, laughing a little. Then, she jumps up and wraps her arms around me, giving me a quick squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Bae.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I reply. “It was all you.”

My cheek feels like it’s burning from the touch of her lips. I want to touch her again, but she’s stepped back from me as if she’s sorry she hugged me.

Still smiling, though. That’s an improvement.

“Well, okay, but I never thought to ask there,” she says. “It was silly of me, and I’m glad you suggested it.”

I just nod, smiling at her. I’m afraid to shatter her good mood by saying the wrong thing.

“I’ll see you at home,” she says, twirling her hair in one finger and looking up at me with a cute, almost bashful smile.

“You bet, babe,” I say, grinning back.

She hurries out the door, and I watch her go, thinking ahead to seeing her tonight and, hopefully, getting closer to earning her trust.

I’m mesmerized by the way she looks when she’s full of excitement. Her blue eyes seem to glow, and her pale cheeks blush pink. She likes to toy with her long black hair, curling it around her fingers while she talks.

Every moment with her, I’m reminded of how I treated her in high school. I can’t escape it because now, I’m expected to look upon her with appreciation. It seems so stupid to me now that this is what I always wanted to do.

I always loved her quiet manner and soft, stuttering voice. Her pale skin set against the night-dark black of her long, glossy curls enchants me. Eyes so deep and blue that a man could willingly drown in them.

It seems completely insane that I rejected her at all, let alone so brutally. And even more ridiculous that I did it because I was scared of what other people would think.

That night, we cook dinner together, but I notice she is very careful to keep space between us and never allows our bodies to touch, even by accident. Even though she talks to me, she doesn’t open up further about her life before or what she hopes to achieve now.

“I’m going to work on getting you a piano,” I say as we sit down to dinner. I’m trying to open the conversation on a topic I know she’s invested in to see if I can get her to open up.

“Grandmother left me hers in her will,” Gina answers. “It needs a tune-up, but I’ll get it brought over when they go through her estate.”

“Okay, good. Is there anything else you need?”

She shakes her head. “My boss, Martin, has promised me a decent electric keyboard.”

Gina’s keeping her eyes down, focused on her food, and only answering in short sentences. I’m feeling frustrated and disappointed. It felt like we were really making progress.

“But do you need anything else?” I prod. “I mean, for the house or for yourself? It’s your home now. You can do whatever you like to make it comfortable.”

She looks up, giving me a small smile. “Thank you. I’ll let you know.”

Despite my best efforts, the distance between us seems to be growing again. Memories of the kiss we shared torture me. I know if I could just kiss her again, all her resistance would just melt away.

I’m torn between taking what I want, as I always have, and waiting for her to come to me. The problem with waiting is that she may never change her mind. I’m still not even sure that she’s staying away from me because of what I did in high school or if she has other reasons.

Maybe she doesn’t even want me.

The thought rushes through me, triggering a bitter rage. What if she had someone else in Denver? The idea of another man touching her makes my wolf frantic within me, howling for the blood of my rival.

I can’t believe it. I won’t.

But as we spend another night sleeping next to each other, and yet so very far apart, my doubts grow.

The next morning, Gina gets ready for her first day at work, and I try to stay out of her way. It’s bad enough lying beside her all night, knowing I can’t touch her, but when she goes to the bathroom to get changed and shower, I’m almost mad with lust every single time.

That gorgeous, perfectly curved body, right there on the other side of the door. Close enough to touch, but denied to me.

I get dressed myself and hurry downstairs to make coffee for us both. Thinking of someone else’s needs before my own is a brand-new feeling for me, and I’m worried that I’m not very good at it. An alpha must put his pack before himself, but that’s very different than living with another person and ensuring their satisfaction before my own.

Gina looks beautiful when she comes downstairs. I want to tell her so, but I don’t know how, and I’m worried she won’t take me seriously.

“Good morning,” I say, wanting to compliment her blue dress and knee-high boots, but struggling to do it without innuendo.

“Good morning, Bae,” she answers, giving me her usual small, guarded smile.

“Can I make you something?”

“No, that’s fine, thanks. I’ll just make some toast.”

From my perspective, it feels like there is a massive ocean of words trapped beneath a thin barrier of social pleasantries.

If she feels the same, though, wouldn’t she speak up? Maybe she really has nothing to say to me.

We head into work together, and I open up my store while Gina heads off to her first day. I expect to be able to forget about her for a short time and focus on my work, but I keep heading to the front windows to watch her. I have a fantastic view of the music store, and I can clearly see her moving around, serving customers and tidying the store.

She looks happy. Happier than she ever does with me.

Even though I pull myself away multiple times to go back to work, I’m drawn to the window again and again. I love the way she smiles, the way she laughs.

I want to make her laugh like that.

How can I make her understand my feelings? Would she even believe me if I could find the right words?

I’m broken out of my thoughts when I see a customer enter the store and head straight over to Gina. She bounces enthusiastically at the sight of him and gives him a hug.

What?

My wolf is growling dangerously in my blood. I vaguely recognize the guy. Maybe he went to our school.

The two of them talk animatedly, and Gina laughs a lot, putting her hand on his arm and gazing up at him. I’m halfway across the street and in front of the music store before I even know what’s happening.

As I shove open the door and the little bell above me rings, the guy puts his hand on Gina’s shoulder.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” my voice booms through the store, making Gina jump. They are the only ones in here at the moment, and it makes me even angrier to see she’s effectively alone with another man.

“Bailey?” she exclaims, surprised. Her friend takes a very obvious step back, away from her.

That’s right, asshole. Back off.

“What’s going on?” I growl, stalking towards them. My eyes flick between them back and forth, searching for any evidence they might be guilty.

“Don’t you remember Scott?” Gina asks. “He was in my music class at school. I’m just showing him a flute—”

“The hell you are,” I snap, putting myself between them. “Why is he all over you, then, if this is just a friendly hello?”

I do remember Scott. I just don’t ever remember him hanging out with Gina, much less that they were good friends.

Gina frowns, and I can see she’s getting mad. I haven’t forgotten about Scott and turn around to glare at him.

“Might not be a good day to buy a flute, buddy,” I hiss at him. “Take off and have a good hard think about what you really want here.”

Scott practically flees the store. I turn around to Gina, ready to tell her exactly how I feel. This situation can’t continue. She has to accept me as her mate.

“What the hell was that?” Gina yells. Her eyes are teary, and her lower lip is trembling, but her voice is strong. “It’s a good thing my manager isn’t here. I could have gotten fired for that!”

“I don’t care,” I snap back. “I’m not going to just stand around and let some guy fall all over you. It’s obscene!”

“He’s just a customer!” Gina throws her hands up in the air, shaking her head. “We were in a band together in high school, and he wanted to catch up. I have no idea what you’re so upset about.”

You showed him more affection in five minutes than you have to me in a whole week—and we’re married!

For a moment, I can’t get any words out. I had planned everything that I wanted to say, but now rage has tied my tongue firmly to the roof of my mouth.

“Bailey,” Gina says firmly, “you can’t behave like this. It’s unacceptable.”

“Unacceptable!” My voice comes out in a harsh rush. “You’re the one that’s been playing up to random people all day, then falling all over your old boyfriend right in front of me!”

“Old boyfriend?” she exclaims. “I never dated Scott. Why would you think that?”

“You two looked very close,” I mutter, taking a step towards her. Our bodies are now inches apart. As close as she was standing to Scott only a few minutes ago.

She glares up at me with her bright blue eyes. Her gorgeous red lips are pressed together, and her cheeks are burning with a pale pink blush.

She’s so beautiful!

Gina folds her arms across her chest, making her breasts bounce. The sight distracts me so much, I momentarily forget what we’re supposed to be talking about.

Just kiss her.

I want to, but she looks mad enough to bite me if I try it.

I think I’d like that.

I’m just about to give in to my urges and kiss her when she whispers very softly, “You have no right to talk about anything that happened in high school.”

The words make me freeze. They have such an impact on me, she could have screamed them, but she didn’t have to.

I stare at her for another few seconds, trying to think of something to say. Eventually, I just can’t face her gaze any longer, so I turn and stride away, hurrying down the street without even knowing where I’m going.

Any progress we made over the past week, I’ve just gone and fucked it all up.