Page 23 of Can't Help Growling in Love
I lower my hands and find him grinning down at me, his expression slightly dazed.
“What?” I ask. “Was that too high school for you?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. I just wish we were in my house right now instead of here. Is it weird that I want to make you breakfast for dinner and then kiss you some more?”
“Nope.” My chest warms at his earnest question. “Not weird at all.”
He walks over to where the window is hidden behind thick curtains and throws it open, letting cold morning air into the room. “Would you…?” He clears his throat and tries again. “Would you like to do that? Now, I mean, after we leave here? I can drive you home if you’d like, no pressure.”
I glance at the window and the raindrops on the carpet. It’s brutal outside, and I’m glad of his offer. He’d really drive me home, even though it’s out of the way for him, and drop me off, no expectations.
“Yeah.” I push my hair behind my ears. Anticipation bubbles up inside me. “I’d like that.”
Chapter
Eleven
ASHER
Marcos’ eyebrows climb up the moment he steps through the door. His nostrils widen as he inhales, and he glances from me to June and back. I silently beg him not to say anything about the lingering scents of arousal, both mine and June’s. We didn’t fuck here, that much should be clear, but I don’t want June to be uncomfortable.
Marcos proves he’s a good guy when he clears his throat and extends his hand toward June. “Hey, I’m Marcos.”
“June,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”
I take a battered old umbrella from the corner of the entryway and motion at June to pick up her things. She packed her damp gear and is still wearing my clothes, which is doing nothing to calm the fire blazing in my veins.
“We’ll get out of your hair,” I tell my minotaur friend. “Everything’s scheduled up until seven.”
“Thanks.” He sends me a look that says I’ll have to explain myself later. “You two have a nice morning.”
June waves at him, and I nudge her through the door, keeping the umbrella over her head. It’s still pouring, and thewind gusts have us spattered with rain within seconds, so we rush toward my truck together. June squeals as she steps in a puddle. I barely resist picking her up and carrying her. The thought of her cold and wet sits wrong with me for some reason. I pull the passenger-side door open for her.
“Wait, my bike!” She turns and lunges forward. “I need it to get to work tonight.”
No way is she riding a bike to work in this weather. But I don’t want to argue about this while we’re both getting soaked.
I catch her by the waist and guide her back toward the safety of the truck. “I’ll get it.”
She sends me an indecipherable look but clambers into the cabin, shoves a set of keys at me, and lets me close the door behind her. I put the umbrella in the back of the truck, then unlock the bike and lift it in, too. I’ll have to drive slowly because of all the water in the streets anyway, so I don’t bother securing it for the short ride.
“Oh my God, you’re all wet,” June exclaims, then reaches over to blot my face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I could have done that.”
I shake my head instinctively, then stop, flushing. I don’t often let my wolf mannerisms slip over into my human form, but this move is just practical. June doesn’t seem to mind, though.
She rummages through her bag and pulls out her damp t-shirt. “Here, use this. It’s better than nothing. I can’t believe you did that.”
I send her an amused smile, pushing her away gently. “I’ll be just as wet in a few minutes when we have to get from the car to the house. And I run warmer than you, remember?”
“Right.” She gives me a sheepish look. “Sorry, I just have a hard time accepting help. It’s something I’m working on.”
Humming in agreement, I reverse from the radio station’s driveway slowly, past Marcos’ truck, and back onto the street,which is almost empty at this early hour of the morning. Some of the windows in the neighborhood are still dark, but the town is slowly waking up. A delivery truck ahead of us sends a splash of water onto the sidewalk.
“You told me about your career,” June says suddenly, “but we never really dove into what your limits might be.”
I grip the steering wheel more tightly. “I don’t?—”
“Asher.” She reaches over and places her warm palm on my thigh. “I get that it’s weird to talk about this. Do you want me to start? You’ve shared a lot about yourself already.”
