Page 87 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

Bard lay on his back on the narrow cot in his office, his gaze on the ceiling.

He should check on Haley. Make sure she was okay.

Although, the upstairs had been quiet all night. She was probably sleeping.

At least one of them was.

He flung off the blanket and stood, pausing a second to get his balance. Sleeping with his prosthesis was a pain in the ass but something had made him leave it on before turning in for the night. Maybe his subconscious had known he wasn’t going to sleep anyway.

The office was dark, but there was enough moonlight to let him move through the house without worrying about a fall. It lit up the foyer and spilled through the living room windows, revealing an outside covered in thick snow. Wind battered the house, the sound a high-pitched whistle that sailed down the chimney and into every crack and cranny.

Swearing under his breath, he limped to the nearest window and peered out. A layer of white stretched from the house to the treeline, the snow almost as high as his mailbox. He wasn’t going to the airport in the morning. He’d be lucky to make it down his driveway.

Which meant another day—probably two—with Haley Michaels in his house.

He waited for irritation to wash over him.

It didn’t. Instead, a curious feeling drifted through his mind—something at once both foreign and familiar. His wolf seemed to recognize it first. The beast roused, radiating a deep sense of . . . anticipation?

Bard rubbed a hand over his mouth. As much as his brain wanted to be irritated at the idea of being trapped in the house with Haley, his body relished it. As if drawn by a magnet, he turned, his gaze easily finding her discarded clothing on the floor. Her shirt and bra were exactly where she left them.

An image of her slammed into his mind—her head thrown back, long neck exposed as she thrust her breasts forward.

He wasn’t one for hyperbole, but her tits were magnificent. High and firm, they were large for her frame and crowned with pink nipples the same shade as her cheeks when she blushed. They stabbed the air, as tight and ripe as strawberries.

Just a taste. That’s what he told himself. But once she was in his mouth he realized his mistake. How foolish he was, a starving man thinking he’d be content with a nibble. A pauper who stumbled on a treasure.

And that’s what Haley was. Her body was a feast, from her soft, gentle curls and sky-blue eyes to her nipped in waist and legs that seemed to go on forever. With all that bounty perched on his lap, he’d been helpless to resist her.

The magnet tugged harder, and he limped to the sofa. Ignoring the twinges in his leg, he bent and scooped her clothes from the floor. Wildflowers teased his nose, the scent so strong he could almost feel petals on his face. Even so, no flower was as soft as her skin. Mind whirling with images of her straddling him in the moonlight, her back arched and her breasts quivering, he lifted the bra to his face and inhaled. The heady scent of wildflowers and honey filled his lungs.

Honey. That was how she smelled when she was wet. And she’d been wet for him, her pussy throwing off so much heat he felt the burn through her clothes.

What he would give to taste her there, too.

Someone pounded on the front door hard enough to shake the house. “Bard? Are you in there?”

Expletives flew from Bard’s lips as he went to the door. Whoever was outside was going to learn how to use a doorbell, stat. He wrenched the door open, a growl in his throat as a gust of wind sent snowflakes flying into the foyer.

Benjamin Rupert stood on the porch, his chest bare and a layer of frost in his hair.

Haley stood just behind him wearing nothing but a shirt.

Rupert’s shirt.

Their scents mingled—cinnamon and wildflowers.

Bard’s wolf roared to attention, the force of its ire so great his fangs threatened to punch through his gums. He grabbed Rupert by the scruff of the neck and yanked him into the foyer.

Haley gasped and stumbled back, the shirt fluttering around her bare legs.

“Get inside,” Bard told her.

She drew herself up. “Don’t touch me!”

The growl in his throat let loose as he reached for her.

“Joel’s dead,” Rupert said behind him.

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