Page 24 of What a Wolf Demands

He had to stop thinking about that kiss. About how soft and full her lips had felt against his. How silky her curls had been under his hands. How her little moan had vibrated from her throat to his mouth . . .

Plastic creaked under his hands.

He shook himself—and loosened his hold on the wheel before he broke the damn thing.

Lily didn’t seem to notice. She looked out the passenger window, her hands loose in her lap. The smell of rum was thick in the air. Her hair had dried, but the black T-shirt still molded to her breasts, revealing the small, pebbled nipples underneath.

He jerked his gaze back to the road.

That’s right. Focus on driving the car, asshole.

Focus on the job, not the target. That meant keeping his goddamn eyes to himself.

He should probably avoid talking, too.

So far, Lily seemed on board with that plan. She hadn’t spoken since they left the club. Maybe she’d stay silent until they rolled up to Bon Rêve. Maybe they could go the rest of the trip without saying another word to each other.

“Where are you taking me?”

Or not.

He glanced at her. “Hotel.”

There was a brief pause. “Why?”

Deep in his mind, his wolf lifted its head. Dom braced himself for the beast to express anger—or at least the animal equivalent of that emotion. As Beta, he was unaccustomed to explaining himself. When he issued an order, other wolves obeyed.

But his wolf wasn’t angry. More . . . what was it, exactly? He frowned.

Protect. The command drifted to the top of his brain. It wasn’t really a word. Not in the usual sense, anyway. The beast didn’t do language—not even on a mental level. But it made its wishes known all the same.

In this case, its wishes were way off base. Lily Agincourt didn’t need protection. According to the report he’d read, the man whose carotid she’d severed could have used a little protecting. He tapped the mental connection that linked his human half to his animal side.

Got that? She could be a murderer.

His wolf sent another message—the mental equivalent of a shrug before stalking off.

He was still puzzling over it when Lily cleared her throat. “I asked why you’re taking me to a hotel.”

He pushed his confusion over the wolf’s response aside. “It’s late. I’m tired.”

She turned her body toward him and folded her arms. “I’m not staying in a hotel with you.”

“You’d rather go straight to Bon Rêve?”

“No.”

“Then we’re going to a hotel.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her mull that over. She gnawed on a plump lower lip. In the club, he’d noticed it was dusted with tiny freckles. The smallest, palest dots—as if a passing Fae had tossed a handful of fairy dust her way. From afar, her skin was like cream. But up close, freckles sprinkled her face from forehead to chin.

Probably everywhere else, too.

He concentrated on the road. Hard.

“I want separate rooms,” she said.

Ah yes. Another reason he shouldn’t have kissed her. She was wary of him now, not just as a Hunter but as a male who possibly had designs on her. He could hardly blame her. He’d practically checked her tonsils with that kiss. Never mind that he’d pulled her into the alcove to get away from that nosy human’s camera. He shouldn’t have put himself in that situation in the first place.

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