Page 9 of One Night with the Werewolf
Growing bolder, my palms skim back down his body to his jeans, which are held up by a thick leather belt. Below the belt, I brush over where his dick is hiding underneath, and I watch Roscoe’s face as he grits his teeth.
“That’s damn good,” he murmurs, his body responding to mine. I keep my hand hidden between us, but I probably shouldn’t be getting him off in public.
“Can we go?” I ask suddenly. “Please?”
Roscoe leans backward so he can look down at me. “You’re sure that’s what you want?”
“I understand if you don’t.” My voice wobbles as I say it, because yes, I would understand, but I wouldn’t like it. “I’m probably just upset, and I don’t want to use you?—”
“Use me.” His grip stiffens around me. “Use me, Emelia. Make yourself feel better. If that’s the purpose I serve, I’m more than happy to be that for you.”
My eyes feel tight, but not because I’m sad. It’s the way that I feel understood by this gorgeous man with sprinkles of gray in his dark hair. How he actuallyseesme.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and I know he can’t hear it over the music, but I think he can read my lips because he nods and tips his head down to kiss my forehead.
Oh, do I love that.
I grab his hand in mine and pull him off the dance floor, eager to get the hell out of this place and go somewhere we can be alone.
“Where are we going?” Roscoe asks as he obediently comes along with me.
“Leaving. Maybe your place?” I glance over my shoulder at him for confirmation. He lifts his brows.
“Sure, we can go there. It’s a ways away.”
“I know where you live. I just got a big raise, so I’ll pay for the Uber.”
He lets out a resigned sigh, but he’s smiling. “All right. Let’s go.”
I don’t release his hand as we head out into the cool night air. Well, cool relatively speaking. It’s late August, nearing the end of summer soon, so it’s late enough in the year that I’m a little bit chilly.
“Here,” Roscoe says, taking off his leather jacket. He steps behind me to drape it over my shoulders. “Now call us that taxi.”
Doing as I’m told, I tap for a ride and I’m lucky that there’s a car close by. Then I sneak my hand into Roscoe’s. I know what we’re about to do isn’t necessarily intimate, necessarily affectionate, but I feel affection for him right now and I want to show it.
He doesn’t miss a beat, gripping my hand in return as if to comfort me, to assure me it’s okay to ask for it.
Finally, the Uber appears at the curb, and we both climb into the back. I resist the urge to sit in his lap, and then we buckle ourselves in responsibly as the car pulls away. Still, though, Roscoe is holding my hand, and when I glance up, I find him staring straight ahead with a slight smile tugging at his lip.
Boy howdy, do I like his face. He has some of Jason’s features, but on him they are less soft and more rugged, with a bump in the bridge of his nose that makes me wonder if he’s broken it before. And then, of course, there’s that handsome stubble, the square jaw that isn’t lined with baby fat, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes that deepen when he grins.
I really could just eat him.
Feeling adventurous, I abandon holding hands and instead, my fingers drift down to his jeans, where I rub over the slight lump still there. Roscoe bites his lip and holds in a breath, watching me as I touch him just outside the driver’s line of sight. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help teasing him.
I think watching this man come undone might be my life’s greatest accomplishment. I can’t wait.
CHAPTER
FOUR
ROSCOE
This woman is going to wreck me in the best way possible, I can already tell. She’s sensual, soft, and giving while also being demanding, telling me exactly what her needs are. We just have to wait until we get back to my house, and then I’ll figure out getting my car tomorrow.
I really should download that “Uber” app.
Emelia doesn’t relent in stroking me through my jeans, which is making me harder and harder. At this rate, I might just come in my pants, which is not at all how I want to start this.
