Page 17 of Labor of Love

What hewasn’tprepared for, was the sheer hotness of the man.

The new neighbor was two heads taller than Emre, muscled and so large that he would have to duck his headandturn sideways to fit through his front door. Hot Neighbor had striking brown eyes and inky black hair. He was wearing a thin white tank top that barely concealed his pecs; his biceps were girthy, and his shorts stretched around his thighs. And—sweet heavens—his thick bulge.

Emre’s heat was long over, but staring at this man... he felt as though he might be going into heat again.

He tried to focus on his other senses because his brain was melting.

Beneath the herb-filled aroma of meat and potatoes, Emre smelled a hint of smoke, fresh sweat, and musk. He gulped. And breathed in again.

Hot Neighbor smelledamazing.

“Hi,” the man said, glancing at the empty mug in Emre’s hands. Emre realized that he should’ve introduced himself a whole minute ago, except he’d missed that window, and they were now staring awkwardly at each other.

Well, Hot Neighbor was staring at him. Emre had been staring at Hot Neighbor’s bulge.

“Can I help you?” Hot Neighbor asked.

Something smells really good,was what Emre meant to say.

What came out of his mouth was, “You smell really good.”

Then he froze, his entire face growing hot. His skin was turning blotchy too, but Emre did not care anymore.

“Sorry!” he squeaked. “I meant your chest—No, I—I meant your balls. Fuck! No. Not your balls. Holy fuck, stop saying ‘balls’!”

He brought his hands up to hide his face, and almost brained himself with the mug.

Hot Neighbor was watching him with the corner of his sinful lips turned up, as though he wanted to laugh.

“I’m hungry,” Emre blurted. And cringed. “I-I mean, your food just smelled really good, and—and I wondered if I could have a taste. Just half a cup. A quarter cup. Please.”

Hot Neighbor’s smile had dropped off his face. His eyebrows drew together, and he swept his gaze down Emre’s body. Emre felt completely naked then, too thin and too weak.

“Yeah, okay. Let me see if it’s ready.” Hot Neighbor left the door open and turned away. His shoulders looked amazing from behind. His ass, too.

Emre swallowed his whimper.He probably has a mate already. He seems perfect.

Before he knew it, Hot Neighbor was in front of him again, reaching for Emre’s mug. “Any allergies?” Emre shook his head, and Hot Neighbor nodded. “Be right back.”

Emre couldn’t help checking out Hot Neighbor’s living room. It was small like his, but instead of the furniture Emre had scrounged from the curb, Hot Neighbor had a beautiful leather couch, a burgundy rug, and a nice coffee table. His walls werepainted a pleasant shade of cream, and there was a closed laptop on the table, with some papers around it.

Hot Neighbor stepped back in front of the doorway, startling Emre.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The man frowned. In his hands were Emre’s mug, and a loaf of bread that smelled so fresh, Emre moaned.

Hot Neighbor froze. “You... You shouldn’t be moaning like that in front of strangers,” he said, his voice lowering.

Emre had the sudden mental image of Hot Neighbor making him moan in several other ways. Several pants-melting ways.

He was wet between his legs inseconds,and terribly grateful that this man wasn’t a wolf. Otherwise, he’d smell Emre’s slick.

But from the way the man’s gaze darkened, maybe he knew the effect he had on Emre anyway.

“Here.” The man pressed the warm mug and bread into Emre’s hands, making sure the mug wasn’t too hot for him. He’d filled the mug close to the brim with stew, just far enough from the rim that it wouldn’t spill.

Emre gasped. “That’s a lot of stew. Won’t you—Do you have enough left for your mate?”

Something flickered through Hot Neighbor’s face. “I don’t have a mate.”

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