Page 7 of The President

“While I’m definitely a meat and potatoes kind of male, I enjoy them as well,” he says, cutting his steak into bite-size portions.

“Dang, I forgot the salt and pepper,” I state, standing to go get them.

“No, tell me where they’re at and I’ll grab them for you, you’ve been on your feet all day and need to give your soles some time off,” he instructs.

“Thank you,” I say, before I begin to cut my own steak into quarter-size chunks. The smells are making my own stomach growl, which has me giggling again.

“I heard that,” he teases, coming back with my salt and pepper shakers and sitting them down between us. They’re potbelly pig shaped, definitely a whimsical purchase because I was thinking about Angie when I found them, but somewhat impractical because they have to be filled constantly. He uses them then passes them to me and after adding some to my potato, I set them in the middle of the table.

Conversation is light over our meal, but it’s not awkward and I know it has more to do with the fact we’re mates than anything. “That was absolutely delicious,” I say as I push my plate away.

“Yeah, it was, but I think I enjoyed watching you devour it more,” Fox says, grinning at me. “Nothing like a female who isn’t afraid to eat.”

“Why be afraid, though? I mean, as shifters, wehaveto eat more calories than a human does due to our metabolisms. Otherwise, we run the risk of becoming sickly.”

While shifters don’t carry disease like humans do, we can still become ill if we slack on our nutrition. Protein is key. It’s one of those things that are ingrained in us from the time we’re old enough to understand.

“Well, most humans act like they don’t do anything of a baser nature, like eat, pass gas, or go to the bathroom.”

“And most shifters don’t give that first fuck,” I retort, grinning at him.

“Why does the thought of that luscious mouth saying such a dirty word turn me on so much?” he muses, smirking back at me.

“No clue, do you have a fetish about that kind of thing? I need to know these things,” I tease.

“Not that I’m aware of. So, about the fact that we’re mates. As much as my wolf is riding me to complete that bond with you here and now, I really want to be in what’ll beourden. Does that make sense?” he asks.

Chapter Four

Vivienne

Warmth suffuses my face at his words. While I didn’t set out to stay untouched, because most shifters aren’t monogamous before they meet their mates, there was no one in my former pack that interested me in that way. Thinking about Fox’s delectable body pressed against me so intimately has me squirming in my chair.

“Vivi,” he growls out. “What are you thinking about over there that has your scent so potent that it’s driving me crazy?”

“Um, well, my mind went down that road is all,” I admit.

“What road?” he asks.

“The one that has me and you in your den…” I start.

“Ourden. No other female has stepped into my rooms.Ever,”he stresses. “I do all the cleaning in there because it never felt right to allow someone who wasn’t my mate to cross the threshold.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I haven’t been a saint, so I don’t want you thinking that, okay? I just wasn’t willing to disrespect my future mate by allowing someone else in there and having their scents line my walls.”

“Well, I’m glad one of us hasn’t been one,” I say.

“Vivi, what are you saying?” he questions.

“You’ll be my only, Fox,” I reply, unashamed of my confession. It must do something for his male ego because the grin he gives me is positively wolfish and when his eyes glow, I know his wolf is near the surface.

Somehow, I don’t think he loses control very often. While I don’t know much about motorcycle clubs except for what I’ve read and of course, seen on television programs, I suspect that the men who are in his position have to remain cool under pressure at all times. A hothead who leads a pack of bikers, especially shifters, wouldn’t do well if they held that kind of power. I shiver as I imagine all kinds of mayhem and general fuckery happening.

“It’s gonna make me sound like a prick, but I’m glad to hear that, Vivi. It wouldn’t have mattered, though, because you’re my mate,” he finally says. “How about you go find a movie for us to watch while I clean everything up?” he suggests.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I tell him. I’m used to things being a certain way and everything being put in its place. I don’t have enough fingers on my two hands to count the number of times I’ve had to go behind somebody after they’ve ‘cleaned up’ and had to reorganize.

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