Page 88 of Fated to the Wolf Billionaire

She chuckled, the sound low and sultry as she closed the space between us, running both hands up my chest teasingly. “Then I guess you’ll just have to behave yourself and show me a good time at dinner.” She pecked me on the cheek, and my dick twitched even at that little bit of encouragement. “If you’re areallygood date, I’ll let you take it off me at the end of the night.”

I could smell her arousal perfuming the air around us at the exchange, and the urge to cancel the damn dinner was a fire burning in my veins. I absolutely had to have her; her heady amber scent drove my wolf right to the edge and left me rock-hard behind my slacks. Luckily, my jacket covered it.

But the smile she wore as she looked up at me, excited for the night out?Worth it.

I offered her my arm and tried to think of nonsexy things as we rode down to the ground floor in the elevator.

Grandmas knitting sweaters in floral bathrobes.

Sweaty wolf shifters in the sparring ring.

Business meetings that wouldn’t end with microwaved fish stink lingering in the air.

The elevator stopped on the ground floor with a chipperding, and she stepped off first, sending an excited smile back over her shoulder at me, and all my efforts were for nothing. She owned me, body and soul.

And I was going to have a zipper imprint on my cock by the end of the night.

* * *

The rideto the restaurant was only a few minutes, and I wrapped my suit jacket around her shoulders before we stepped out.

Call me a caveman, but I wasn’t showing her off for every Tom, Dick, and Harry on the street, and there was a nip in the air now that it was dark out. She paused on the sidewalk, gaping up at the bright lights with delight.

“It’s beautiful,” she said with hushed reverence, looking just a little down the way at the famous Bellagio fountains.

“We can walk over after, catch a show if you want?”

She grinned at me, her excitement infectious. “Let’s see how good a date you are first. We might have to catch the fountains tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I murmured, hand on her lower back as I guided her into the front doors.

We were given the royal treatment, glasses of champagne in hand before we even made it past the maître d’, and then escorted through the bustling front room to the back of the restaurant, where a private table for two was tucked into a darkly paneled nook. We had a view of the chefs as they worked through a light screen of twisted metal twined with lights, but the illusion of privacy too.

The waiter was there the second we sat down.

“Welcome to the Sanguine Saint. The head chef has prepared a full tasting menu for two this evening, but we’ve been instructed to offer you any alterations you’d like, on the house. Courtesies of Carmine.” He presented us with a handwritten menu with a flourish. I didn’t even look, just watched Fiona as her eyes lit up as she read the listings.

“This looks incredible. I can’t think of anything we might want changed.” She looked up at me with a question in her eyes.

“This will be fine. Please give the chef our thanks.”

“As you wish.” The waiter took the menus back with a bow, then disappeared behind the privacy screen.

“The Sanguine Saint,” Fiona said, looking around at the dark, moody decor. “I’m not sure I get the theme. Although, it’s a touch… cathedral?”

I chuckled, leaning forward to catch another whiff of her intoxicating scent before I answered. The soft floral perfume was lighter now that we were out and about, but my wolf could spot it anywhere, despite the delicious scents wafting from the kitchen.

“Vampires. It’s a reference to Saint Januarius, patron saint of blood donors.”

She threw back her head and laughed, baring her neck in a very distracting way. I could almost see my mark there, the perfect crescent shape of it where it would go at the base of her neck.

Some couples hid their marks, putting it somewhere private for their own enjoyment and eyes only. But I’d waited so long to meet her, I didn’t want to hide anything about our connection. I wanted everyone to know she was mine, that she was claimed. I shook off the possessive thoughts as the waiter returned with our first plates.

The conversation between us flowed as easily as the food and wine—which I begrudgingly had to admit was top-notch—and before I knew it, three hours had passed, and the dessert plates were being cleared. Fiona’s cheeks were flushed with the good wine and the fun of it all.

They refused to let us pay, despite what I knew would have been a several-thousand-dollar tab. Carmine was a controlling bastard, and I knew a power move when I saw one. So I dropped a stack of cash in the waiter’s hand that was enough to pay off a midsized car and thanked him for the excellent service.

Sometimes, the negotiations started before the first word had ever been exchanged, and this was one of those times.

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