Page 8 of A Breath of Fresh Air

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie!” she says, amusement colouring her tone. “Van saw you and Brett making out last month. Now I’m wondering how many extra trips you’ve been making down this way and not even telling me that you’re in town.”

“None,” I answer honestly, my heart hurting at the fact. “I haven’t made any extra trips. I want to,” I admit. “But I can’t take any time off work until next month, so the only times are the weekend, and Brett has his daughter Friday night to Sunday. She’s only ten. And I’ve been juggling seeing Koro, too.”

“Do you like him, Mama?”

“I really like him. I just don’t see…”

“You’ll make it work,” Ellie says, ever the optimist. It’s one of the things I admire the most about my daughter. She is someone who sees possibilities and open doors. Life hasn’t always been easy to her, but she has always clawed her way out of despair and found beauty in life. I am so proud of her and so lucky to be her mother. “You have to make it work,” she reiterates. “He’s a great guy. He’s perfect for you.”

“I know.” He is, and it makes my heart hurt even more that we live so far apart.

There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. “I’m gonna send you some links, Mum,” Ellie eventually says. “Don’t be weird about it, okay? But…” she trails off, and I hear the deep baritone of her husband’s voice in the background, though I can’t make out what he’s saying. “Yeah, I know,” Ellie says, and I can tell she’s talking to him, not me.

“I’ve gotta go, Mum, but I’m sending you some links you should read through. Don’t be weird, okay? It’s important stuff.”

Five minutes later I open the first link to an article she’s sent me.

Knotting 101: Ten People Discuss Their Experiences With Wolves, and How to Avoid Injuries.

“Oh, fuck.Ellie!” I growl to myself, mortified that my daughter has sent me this and curious all at once.

Fuck,I’m nervous. I park my car in the underground parking lot that sits beneath the hotel precinct, and by the time I’m riding the elevator up to the ground floor my palms are sweaty and my heart is beating rapidly in my chest. My heels clack rhythmically across the polished floor as I head for the door, stepping out into the cool evening air. Directly above me, Auckland’s Sky Tower stretches towards the sky, the spire already lit up for the night. I take in a deep breath, looking around. It’s busy, as Friday nights always are here. There’s a mix of people in their work clothes and others dressed up for a night on the town.

A loud wolf whistle from directly behind me makes me jump. “Looking hot, Mama.”

“Brett,” I sigh, turning around, a grin splitting my face. He’s wearing a matching expression, his hands landing on my hips, pulling me hard against him, his arms wrapping around me as he bends, burying his face in my neck beneath my mass of curly hair.

“Fuck you smell good,” he growls in my ear, big hands palming my ass, and I don’t even care that we’re in public right now. It feels so wonderful to be back in his arms, like everything is right with the world. “And you look amazing.”

“I don’t know, those Gen Zeders may disagree with you there, but they can pry my skinny jeans off my dead body.”

He laughs, and then his lips are on mine, kissing me as if he’s a drowning man and I’m the only source of water. I love this side of him. I love how big and burly he is, how being in his presence takes over all of my senses and makes the rest of the world fall away. He knows what he’s doing, and that quiet confidence is such a turn on.

“We should go,” I say when our lips finally part. “We don’t wanna miss the show.”

I always forgethow cold Town is. I wore a merino wool skivvy paired with my jeans, but I’m shivering within minutes, and that’s all it takes for Brett to shrug off his leather jacket and offer it to me. It’s toasty warm, smells like him, goes down to my knees, and makes me feel like I’m the heroine in some 90s rom-com. We walk hand in hand, and it’s the kind of romance I always dreamed about but never had. I am so happy, but part of me is also so sad that it’s taken this long to ever experience it.

“Pizza?”

“Pizza,” I agree, allowing him to pull me into the small chain restaurant. It’s busy, filled with other Gen Xers and elder Millennials that I can tell are also dressed for the concert we’re going to, but the line moves quickly. Within five minutes we have our food and manage to snag two seats outside.

“I missed you,” Brett declares, right when I have my mouth full of hot pizza. He laughs at my flapping hands and desperate attempt to swallow it quickly so I can talk.

“I missed you too.”

We hold hands across the small table, in a bubble of absolute bliss.

The concert isa mix of different artists from our younger years. One of the local radio stations puts it on every year, with the exception of the year after the Unravelling, when everything was too new and pretty much all public entertainment screeched to a halt due to fears around health and safety. Brett wears a pair of special earplugs made for wolves that reduces the volume level to something manageable, and we spend the night dancing beneath the stage to the mix of pop and pop rock. My voice is hoarse from singing so much, and I haven’t had this much fun in years.

I shriek when he lifts me, higher than I expected, until I’m sitting on his shoulders, towering over the crowd. When he turns his head, opening his mouth wide to bite at my thigh through the fabric of my jeans, I’m ready to leave.

We have a hotel room to get to.

Brett has spoiledme and booked us a five-star suite but I’m not even paying attention, and we don’t bother switching on the lights. As soon as we’re in the door, his mouth is on mine. He lifts me with ease, pressing me against the wall, a deep rumbling growl coming from his chest. Sometimes I forget that he isn’t human at all, and then he does something small like that, and the realisation that we aren’t even the same species jolts me all over again.

I don’t have any time or mental capacity to think over it any further — what’s left of my brain is melting under the flick of his thumb over my nipple, the bite of his teeth on my earlobe, and the press of that rock hard dick against me. I wrap my legs around his waist, and when he grinds right into my pussy I can’t help but moan at the friction on my clit. He repeats the motion again and again, andfuckit’s been too long. I’m so turned on that this dry humping is all it takes, and suddenly I’m gasping against his neck as an orgasm rips through me hard and fast.

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