Page 48 of If The Shoe Fits

Wulfy’s warm hand finds mine, and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmurs, his golden eyes glowing faintly as he looks at me.

I glance up at him, my heart still pounding, and offer a wry smile.

“Let’s see if you still think that after you’re stuck grading Cyndi’s homework with me.”

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.

“Deal.”

“Does this mean we get two principals if Professor Dora marries Principal Tremayne?” one student blurts.

“No! She’ll be our Step-Principal,” another corrects and by now Wulfy and I are laughing out loud.

“Oh gross, they’re kissing!”

And we were. But it was far from gross.

“Alright, alright. Nothing to see here. If you’re not trying on the slippers, go enjoy the ball!” Agatha shouts and starts directing traffic away from where Wulfy and I are embracing.

We haven’t moved yet an inch.

We just stand there and kiss in front of the entire town, it seems like.

Then he lifts his head, gold eyes blazing, and I know he’s about to ask me something.

“Well?”

He arches one ridiculously sexy eyebrow, and I know what he is thinking.

Still, I pause.

Being the professor of Moral and Ethics at the Academy, I feel the need to reflect on my own behaviors more often than not.

Being truthful and treating others with respect are my two main biggies. So, pushing my own fears aside.

I go for broke.

“Ever since you walked through the doors of this Academy, I have felt something for you, Wulfy.”

“Yeah?” He grins, stepping closer and I nod.

“Yeah,” I reply.

“Does this mean you accept my claim? You’ll be my mate?”

“Well, I suppose I can—yes, oh, yes,” I say, not even pretending to think it over.

He pulls me tight and wraps his arms around me, twirling me around until I start to get dizzy.

“Let’s go home, my Dora! I can’t wait another second for you to wear my bite.”

He kisses my lips, soft at first, then deep and consuming, stealing the breath right out of my lungs.

But before I can fully lose myself in him—in the warmth of his mouth, the delicious scrape of his scruff against my skin—he pulls back, ending it far too soon for my liking.

I whimper at the loss, my lips tingling, and my heart pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest.

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