Page 27 of Wrestling With Werewolves

“Don’t all omegas love children?” I retort with a wink. “Pretty sure it’s written in our DNA.”

His smile becomes a smirk as he licks a path up his ice cream. Heat flares between my thighs. Everything about Richard is alpha in a way I’ve never experienced with the alphas back home. Maybe because there’s never been a strong enough alpha who could challenge Papá. Even Eliel doesn’t strike me the way Richard does.

There’s innate strength in his body, for sure, but it’s the focus in those intelligent, predatory eyes. He misses nothing, which is obvious when he interacts with his people.

“What are you thinking about?” His question takes me off guard as I struggle not to watch him lick the ice cream.

Your tongue.

Your muscles.

Your knot.

Shit, where did that last one come from? I struggle to rein it in as I lick my own cone. It’s melting, dripping down over the edges and onto my fingers.

I want you to lick this off me. The request is on the tip of my tongue, my heartbeat racing as I mentally slap myself. I’ve got to stop making everything Richard does sexual.

“Home,” I lie.

He gives me a wicked, knowing look. “Liar.”

My heart skips a beat, then picks up, revving like a truck engine as my nostrils flare, soaking in his scent.

“Dime la verdad,” he growls. Tell me the truth.

Moons, no, I can’t. It’s far too natural to be playful with him.

I force myself to stop breathing and focus. “I’d like to walk back now.” And get home to my AknottilatorXL because I am heating up too fast.

Richard’s chocolate eyes narrow as he crunches into the cone, biting it in half. He munches on it as, frozen, I stare at him.

After an interminable silence, he nods. “Okay, let’s go.”

I should be learning and admiring this darling town, maybe figuring out how to help for the duration of my stay, however long that may be. But I can’t pull my eyes from him as he pops the rest of his cone into his mouth, reaching for me with his free hand.

I take it, my ice cream melting pitifully, covering my hand with sticky sweetness as we rise from the table. He guides me off the bench and pulls me into the sidewalk, releasing his grip. The loss of his warmth makes my fingers twitch.

Richard slips a palm to the middle of my back, respectfully and horribly far above where I’d rather he put it.

Goddess Alaya, help me, I pray to all wolves’ patron saint. Because I am fantasizing about the one wolf I should never, ever pursue. But as quickly as I chide myself, the thought vanishes to the furthest corners of my mind. I smile and walk, trying not to preen at the sensation of Richard’s big hand on my body.

We head toward Sycamore in silence, but at the corner, he jerks his head toward the left. “Do you have any interest in seeing the Community Garden? Hana and Arkan live next door. It’s beautiful over there.”

The heat building between my thighs demands attention, so after a moment to consider it, I shake my head no. I can’t walk around a beautiful garden while Richard points out the amazing things about his haven. I’m one sexy comment away from blurting out how attractive I find him.

We turn up Sycamore toward Shifter Hollow, Richard’s palm blazing a spot against my back. All of my focus and attention is drawn to the way his fingers curl slightly into my skin, as if he wants to be closer and can’t. Or maybe I just hope that’s what he’s feeling.

I don’t realize we’ve walked in silence almost the entire way back until we pass the lake and he scratches at my tee. When he drops his hand, I hold back a whimper of need.

“You sure you’re alright, Lola? You don’t strike me as the early-to-bed type, and the sun isn’t even down yet.”

When I glance up at him, he wears that same smirk that’s been getting to me all night. I clear my throat. “So…when will you be challenged, do you know? How does that work in your pack?”

His smirk becomes a full grin, like he’s a giddy schoolboy. “Tomorrow, probably sunset. Usually, when I get challenged, they like to make sure it’s before the dinner rush.”

I snort. “How very thoughtful and convenient.”

He shrugs. “It’s so different from Santa Alaya. We’ve talked about that. But you’ll see when it happens. There’s no one in my pack with political aspirations like your father had. Until I’m very, very old, I won’t have any real challengers.” He barks out a rough-and-tumble laugh. “Unless I do something really asshole-ish, and then I could be challenged for real. Although, still, there are no alphas here who could beat me.”

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