Page 80 of What's the time, Mr. Wolfe
He paused, placed his cutlery on his plate and turned to me.
“What on earth are you talking about? Why the fuck would you think I was some mythical creature that doesn’t exist. Pretty sure, I’ve proven I’m the real thing.”
I laughed. “You are very... Wolfish?”
He laughed. “Wolfish?”
“Yeah, like, you run your tongue over your teeth, like a dog. You just sucked the blood from the meat before you ate it.”
“So that makes you think I’m something that’s not real?”
“No, it was just a thought, a fleeting one. But you are very... I don’t know what the word is. Alpha maybe?”
“Good. Alpha is good. I’m a man, one that has looked after himself from a very early age. Too fucking right, I’m alpha, and I have no intention of giving up that title any time soon.”
He lifted his glass of wine and sniffed it. He took a sip and swirled the liquid around his mouth. He then swallowed and nodded.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” I said, quietly.
He turned to face me. “And I you, Ruby. Perhaps that’s why we work. We’re very similar in a lot of ways. We’ve both had to fight to get where we are. We’ve confessed our sins, or rather, my sin. One of them,” he said,winking. “You need someone like me, and I need someone like you.”
“Need is a strong word,” I replied.
“No, it isn’t. We want and we need. Nothing wrong in that.”
“So, since we’re pretend married, do you believe in divorce?”
“I don’t believe in letting go of anything that is mine, Ruby. Not without a fight, and I’ve never lost a fight yet.”
He’d closed the gap slightly between us.
“What if I ever wanted to leave?” I shivered at the thought, knowing it wasn’t something I wanted at all.
He shook his head. “You don’t, so the point is moot. End of, Ruby.”
He sat back and picked up his wine again. He raised his glass to me in a salute and sipped again.
“Are we a couple? Like, for real?” I asked, and I held my breath waiting for his answer.
It was slow to come. “What do you think acoupleis? Isn’t it what we do?”
“Erm, well yes, but couples also make love.”
“Is that what you want from me?”
“I wasn’t saying it for that reason.”
“You confuse me, Ruby. Tell me, what’s the difference between fucking and making love in your opinion?”
“Well, men can fuck without emotion, can’t they? Women know the difference between being fucked and being made love to.”
He reached out and stroked my hair. “Has anyone made love to you?”
“No, I don’t believe they have.” I squared my shoulders. I’d started this conversation; I could hardly duck out when it became awkward.
“I have, Ruby. I don’t just fuck you. If I did, I wouldn’t kiss you. I wouldn’t have anyintimacywith you. I wouldn’t hold you after. Life isn’t like your books. I’m not one of your hero’s. When I’m with you. Inside you. I’m giving you me, all of me. Maybe my version of making love to you is different to what you need. If that’s the case, tell me. Instigate it. Teach me.”
“Have you ever been in love before?” I asked.
