Page 24 of Home to the Hollow

His amusement flits away like a leaf on the breeze, and the hottest young vet I’ve ever seen scoots closer to me. A hand comes up to cup my jaw and he murmurs, “Sugarplum, I can promise you I’d kick Edgar square in the nuts if it’d make you smile after that story.”

Ducking my head in embarrassment, I try to get myself under control. Something about Wolfie makes me both shy and ready to devour him at the same time and I haven’t the foggiest how to respond. The conversation until now was easy and light, paired with food that I loved, and good bubbly. I’m not sure what to do now that it’s taken a turn towards the intimate.

Don’t shite where ye lie, Saoirse would say.

However, if she could SEE the sculpted underwear model in front of me, she’d change that tune right quick. I know my bestie, and good sense has never impeded a fun time when she’s around. Hence ending up in the middle of a Southeast Asian scandal and a smuggled exit from a country I’d love to visit again someday.

“It’s okay. I mean, I won’t forget, but it doesn’t actively hurt me anymore. You know how the politics in this town go—I don’t think it was about me. I got in the way, and I was collateral damage. I’ve stood in front of the firing squad to protect people who can’t protect themselves and that was one of those times.”

He scoots closer, his face inches from mine as he tips my chin back up to look into those baby blues. “I like that about you, sugarplum. In fact, I like a lot of things about you.”

I respond, but his lips meet mine before I can. A surge of intense need fills me, and I push forward, crawling over his form like I’ve done it million times. His chest rumbles with a growling sound, and I pull back slightly, grinning against his mouth. The air feels charged with energy like it did with Edgar, and I nip his lower lip, tugging on it with my teeth. Our bodies shift, landing in perfect harmony, and groans echo through the silence of the field.

“You’re offering yourself to me, little Wolfie?”

His hands slide over my ass, squeezing playfully as he smirks back at me. “Are you accepting, Jolene Athena Whitley?”

Using my full name strikes me as important, but I nod. “I am, Wolfgang Lucien Fletcher.”

“We’ve been drinking,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine as if to check my level of intoxication. His expression is serious, but he’s so goddamned cute that I feel like I could gobble him up on the spot.

One of my shoulders lifts and falls as I bob my brows. “Not enough to make a difference in my thought process. Or are you all bark and no bite?”

His eyes widen for a second as he looks at me, and I wonder what he’s seeing. I know that I’m not a bloody fashion hound like the women here, and I’m thinner than I was in high school, but still on the curvy side. Is he regretting his flirting already?

“Look, if you don’t want?—”

My self-conscious babble is cut off by hands whipping the tight riding shirt over my head and flinging it aside. I push up on my hands, wiggling until I can help him push the knee-high boots off as well. His boots are next, and I giggle when he gets his scrub shirt off with some serious maneuvering. I find out that scrub pants are my new favorite pants when they come untied and slide right off, leaving him looking like the fucking Calvin Klein model I thought he was in his boxer briefs.

“You’re going to have to get those damned breeches loose, sugarplum. I’m aware of how tightly they cling to legs like yours.” His eyes dance as he leans up to kiss me briefly, giving me room to figure out my riding pants.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, wishing for the millionth time that I had magick powers to help me with shit like this. My hips bump and wriggle against his, eliciting groans of approval as I get the tight pants over my badonkadonk and down my legs far enough for us both to fight them down my legs. When they’re finally kicked aside, I pump my fist in victory and he laughs along with me.

His eyes travel down my body and mortification thrums in my veins when I remember I worefunctionalundergarments for riding today,notsexy ones, and now he knows. My head falls, the ponytail full of my thick hair hiding my bright red face.

Oh, sweet lord Hades, claim me now.

I’m ready to exit this planet because this super fucking sexy, smart guy has seen my lady boxers and body wrapped sports bra.

“Jolene? Sugarplum? What’s wrong?”

I lift my head, blowing strands of hair out of my face. “So. Embarrassing.”

He frowns, his hands sliding up my back to my shoulder blades as he looks at me. “What’s embarrassing?”

“I’m dressed like a confused granny mummy!”

Wolfie chuckles, then bursts out laughing as he looks up at me. “You’re dressed like a woman who knows how to ride like a pro. If I’d found a thong and a lacy wisp under here, I never could have taken you seriously with my horses again.”

Blinking, I tilt my head. “Really? This isn’t like… a major turn off? My boobs are bound, and I have on lady boxers.”

“Women who dress for function and form are sexy as fuck, sugarplum. I’m a vet—I can’t deal with a lady who’d get grossed out if I came home covered in unmentionable gunk.”

An actual shit-eating grin blossoms on my face, and I reach down to tug on the clip of my binding. Wolfie unfurls the wrap the rest of the way, unzips the sports bra and tosses it, his hips bumping into mine enticingly as he does so.

Once I’m bare, his eyes roam over the tattoo wrapping around my ribs, the belly ring, and of course, the jeweled silver and emerald shields I sport on my nipples. Saoirse is to thank for most of it, as she can talk me into anything when we’re drunk. But Edgar liked it, and it looks like my darling vet does as well.

I might send her a candy basket.

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