Page 48 of Crave

“You guys were passed out last night.” I help myself to more maple syrup, stealing a veggie sausage link from Amanda’s plate. “And I meanpassed out.You must have been steamrolled by that last show.”

Jules sips her coffee, looking at me demurely over the rim, and flutters her sparkly, fake blue lashes. “Oh, you mean, the way we slept through you taking Ben’s virginity?”

I choke on the veggie sausage, while Mikki lets out a whoop and a drumroll on the table. Quickly, I glance at Ben, who’s crammed into the booth on my other side. I’m more worried about his embarrassment than mine.

His cheeks flush, but he shrugs and grins. He doesn’t look traumatized. Far from it.

In fact, he takes my hand under the table. I can’t remember the last time I let someone do that.

“We tried to be quiet, ladies. Not my fault you value eavesdropping more than your beauty sleep.”

“God, Kate,” Amanda says, “Stop smiling like that. You look like a—”

“A fucking marshmallow,” Jules supplies.

“She is.” Ben squeezes my hand. “She’s the biggest marshmallow in the world.”

“Shut up, all of you.” I resume eating my pancakes with dignity.

“Okay,Katie,” Mikki sings, and the girls dissolve in giggles.

I’m too happy to give a shit. Ben leans over to kiss me, licking a drop of maple syrup from my lip. I don’t care what he says; I’ve tasted the breath of an angel, and there’s no going back.

THE WEDDING AND THE WOLF

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Part I: The Wedding

Christina

“What are you thinking about?”

My fiancé leaned across the cafe table to tuck my hair behind my ear. The summer evening wind stirred my long heavy waves.

I looked up innocently from the remains of our dinner.

“Oh, nothing.”

“You’re gonna make me guess?”

He twisted a lock of hair around his finger. I eyed his big hand, so close to my face. When he pulled, I shivered pleasantly. Wondering, with just a touch of nerves, whether anyone was watching.

“Come on, Patrick.” I crossed my legs. “We both know you’re a mind-reader. Tell me. What am I thinking?”

He laughed. That was one of the things I loved about Patrick: how easily he laughed these days.

When we’d met in college, he’d been a cold bastard. Damaged, trying to patch himself together, an island who thought he needed no one.

Now he was my future husband, grinning at me from across the table. The evening sunlight glinted off his short, light brown hair. His pale blue eyes were soft, his broad shoulders relaxed.

But under that brawny teddy-bear exterior, there lurked a wolf.

Hungry, savage, dominating.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Okay, babe.” He tugged on my hair. “You’re thinking that it’s Friday night and you’re going to forget about work until Monday.”

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