Page 44 of Ditching the Dragon (Fated Dates)

My body is in charge, and I’m merely a passenger to the pleasure concentrated to a pinpoint.

I slump into the bench chair. When he flips my skirt down, he’s grinning at me like I’ve professed my love for him.

Wick’s covered in proof of his success, and I use the edge of my skirt to wipe his face. Slitted, golden eyes hint at his hidden side but I kind of like it.

He leans forward, between my legs, and gives me a slow, sweet kiss.

“Come home,” he pleads.

“Yeah,” I concede, and for whatever reason, I mean it. I smile and lay another kiss on his lips. “Can I clean up first?”

He smirks and squeezes my knee but backs away.

As I head through the curtains, I look back at him to give him one last smile. He’s watching me go, but there’s no stress or worry there. He knows I’m coming back because he can sense that I’m ready.

At least, that’s what I think I am.

Because when I get to the bathroom, the extended wait in line gives me a chance to breathe.

If I go home with him, that will be it.

My freedom will be at an end.

I can’t do that just yet.

A little voice in the back of my head tells me to stay, but an even louder one reminds me this may be my only chance.

Panic seizes my thoughts stronger than the chains in Wick’s basement.

Glancing over my shoulder, I can’t see him anywhere. The curtain is still mostly drawn around the VIP booth.

I sneak around the girls ahead of me in line, squeeze through a back room, find an exit to the alley, and disappear into the night.

Chapter Thirteen

Wickham

She fucking ran from me.

AGAIN.

The paper coffee cup in my hand crumples, and hot liquid spills over my skin. The temperature barely registers while it seeps out of the cup, pools on the park bench, and drips into a puddle on the sidewalk.

Across the street, through window decals of coffee beans and a danish, my mate sits at a cafe table at the back of the coffee shop. Raven waves are carefully twisted into a knot, but her blazing gray-blue eyes tell me everything. They dart around the cafe and constantly scan the windows, as if she’ll be able to catch me coming for her.

She arrived only a moment ago after walking in circles for 45 minutes through downtown Promenade East. Her hotel isn’t that far, but she backtracked and routed around so many times, I had to shift and follow from overhead to find her again.

Annie Lane, my mate, ran from me last night.

I’m not angry with her. It’s apparently her nature. She doesn’t understand something, so she runs away. She’s afraid. This isn’t in her plans.

No, I’m pissed the fuck off at myself. I let her walk out of the VIP area because I was so smug that she’d come around. I assumed the area could be controlled since I own the damn place.

Hell, I was riding the edge of an unintentional shift. I nearly bit her a half dozen times.

Only her agreement kept it at bay, and even then my impulses eroded my control. I needed a chance to clear my own head before leading her through a crowd half-full of other men.

When she figured out it was me directing her through the club, toward the back office, she immediately fell into my arms.

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