Page 32 of Loan Wolf
“What’s Carmina Burana?” Gabe asked.
Clara started to explain the piece of classical music and its relationship to the Omen movies, then realized that he was teasing her and kicked him under the table.
“The basement isn’t as bad,” Gabe assured her. “Tiny windows, lots of dank. I didn’t make my bed this morning. There’s old socks on the floor.”
“That sounds so much better,” Clara said sarcastically.
They talked about music, for most of the meal, and Gabe had his phone synced to the speakers in the house, so he played her a range of punk music that Clara thought she might grow to like. There were bands she’d never heard of, and some that were familiar. Gabe turned out to know more about music than she expected.
She demolished the spaghetti and felt considerably better, but her head was still spinning uncomfortably and she didn’t realize that she winced until Gabe stood up. “Let me see your eyes.”
Clara forced herself to meet his gaze without flinching. “I’m fine,” she insisted meekly.
He put his hands on either side of her head and probed her hair with tender, careful fingers. “Tell me if it hurts,” he commanded.
It hurt, but it wasn’t his fingers that hurt. It was not being able to resolve this complicated, caring man with everything else in Clara’s life. She was leaving in four days and might never see him again.
“I’m fine,” she repeated more firmly. Then, because he didn’t immediately kiss her, she leaned up and kissed him. His fingers clenched in her hair and he kissed her back.
Was he a shifter? Could she possibly be this crazy about him because they were meant for each other? So many things about his story of finding her weren't adding up. “Gabe?”
“Mmm?”
“How did you know where I was? You couldn’t have heard me fall from the swimming hole.” Not with human hearing.
Gabe backed away, but not far, and Clara could see the conflict in his face. Tell me the truth, she begged silently. Tell me I’m your mate.
Gabe swallowed, guilt clear on his face. “I have a tracking app on my phone. All of my bikes are tagged. It’s in the contract you signed.”
Technology. He’d tracked her. That was all.
Disappointment couldn’t quite crush the heat his kiss had raised in her.
“You said you hadn’t made your bed,” Clara reminded him. “Maybe that was for a reason…”
Gabe’s daylight basement room was, as advertised, considerably less creepy than the soulless angel statues and he was gentle and careful as he undressed her and laid her carefully down on his mussed bed.
Clara was glad for the little moments of discomfort when an invisible bruise was discovered, or she rubbed a scrape against the sheets underneath her. It heightened the pleasure and highlighted Gabe’s gentleness. It reminded her that she was, for now, completely alive and not alone.
27
GABE
Gabe couldn’t say no to Clara.
As much as he knew he needed to cut her out of his life before it was too late, it was like trying to break an addiction.
He wanted to be here, in his bed, with her in his arms, making soft noises of surrender, threading her fingers in his hair, scratching the stubble on his face, kissing him, spreading her long, luscious legs…
Was it really wrong? he wondered, when they lay apart breathing air into the depths of their lungs again.
A few more days wasn’t going to break his heart any more.
Why shouldn’t he enjoy these few precious days while they were his?
While she was his.
She is ours, his wolf said confidently.
