Page 36 of Nanny's Mate

He was standing in the slant of golden light, nude and inquisitive. Beatriz could have lied and said she was getting up to make breakfast, but there was no point. He was her mate. The man could smell it on her.

The grave look on his face clarified that.

“Mike,” she said with a sigh. “I can’t stay here with you. I’m not good for you. The Wolfe family needs you to not be distracted. They are under fire right now. I …”

Beatriz waited for him to argue with her, to grab her by the waist and profess that his adoration for her burned through him like a volcano. When he didn't, a part of her was disappointed, but another was relieved.

“I understand what you’re saying. We have to be able to put our feelings aside for one another and put them first. It’s our duty.”

Beatriz agreed. She quietly retrieved her clothing from the living room, then gathered the rest of her things that Barbara had brought over from the cabin. Sadness stung her throat, but she wasn't going to let the reality of the moment manifest just yet. When she was alone, she would let it wash through her.

It was far more practical. At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

Mike offered to make her breakfast before she left. She reluctantly said that it likely wasn’t a good idea.

Disappointment plagued his expression. In truth, there wasn’t anything else Beatriz wanted to do more than to make breakfast, eat, laugh, and frolic with her mate. Rejecting him felt like pulling a knife out of her own back.

“That’s probably a good idea,” he said, not meeting her eye.

He helped her carry her things to the car as the sun spilled over the horizon. It was a sight that belonged on a canvas, a burning crimson and golden tapestry. Colors danced over the lake like tiny jewels as the car backed out of the driveway. Beatriz felt a hollow ache that slowly moved toward numbness.

They drove in silence up to the cabin where Beatriz had originally been staying. The sun had peeked, birds were singing, and animals were emerging. Beatriz climbed out of the car, got her bags, and tried to rush into the cabin without another word.

“Beatriz.”

His teeth bit into her name. It wasn't anger. It was passion.

When she turned to him, agonizing over it, his hands were suddenly all over her. The sensation was like she had been starving, and his touch was a banquet. He feasted over her, causing her to drop the bags she held as he pulled her into him by the waist.

“Mike …”

She was breathless. Her body had gone stiff, her back arching, her chest heaving with anticipation. In the past, it was a pleasant feeling. But at that moment, staring into the green infernos of his eyes, it felt like the complete opposite.

“I have no idea whether or not this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” he muttered, looking mournful.

Mike raised a hand to her cheek, pushing her hair out her face. His body was strong and hard against her own. His other hand caressed her lower back in small, warm circles.

Beatriz swallowed, the words crawling up her throat like scorpions.

“It won’t be forever. I promise you. Maybe I can go home for a bit, and things will settle down. Then we can figure out what we want to do.”

Mike gave her a nod, but it wasn’t reassuring. It frightened her, the way his eyes averted, staying silent rather than following up on his own promise.

But Beatriz knew that the words were empty as she spoke them. When the drug issue was dealt with, another problem would surely arise. With such a big and known family, there would always be a need for an enforcer’s aid.

Mike was going to be the one they called on. And he would always be torn.

Beatriz could feel her heart slowly crumble into pieces, like the splitting of paper mache. She ran her hands up her mate’s chest and settled on his neck while he bent his head to meet hers. Their foreheads pressed together, their sorrow shared and palpable.

“I have one more thing to ask of you,” she whispered.

“Anything."

“Kiss me. Like you mean it.”

His fingers hook under her chin, and their eyes finally met. She wanted to lose herself in his green wonders, to drown and never emerge again.

Mike pressed his lips to hers in a soft, melancholic kiss. The passion was there, but it was collared. They both knew what would happen if either of them even vaguely stepped out of line. A flick of a tongue, a nibble of the bottom lip. Their attraction was undeniable and, in many ways, volatile.

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