Page 3 of Keeping Her Close

He says this with such conviction and seriousness that I wonder if this man really would have killed this man for doing what he did to me.

“That seems a bit much, don't you think?”

“Like I said, he deserves more, but I'll let it go for now. Don’t need to tarnish my reputation in front of the pretty lady,” he says, a smirk on his face.

“Well, I don't know about all of that,” I scoff before asking, “By the way, why did you help me, anyway? I mean, it's not like you even know me. You could have just as easily kept walking and ignored everything happening. Most people would have.” Avoiding his gaze, I do my best to adjust my clothes and make sure that everything is covered as it needs to be. Don’t need a slip up in front of this guy.

“Well, that would be because a pretty little thing like you doesn't need to deal with shit like him. Taking things that don't belong to them,” he says seriously.

There seems to be so much more that he wants to say, but he just keeps his mouth shut. After what is a long awkward silence, he asks, “Can I walk you home to make sure you at least arrive safely and don't have to worry about any more creeps tonight?”

“Sure, I guess so.” Backing away even more and gesturing toward the way I was heading originally, “I don't actually have a home though, but you can walk me the rest of the way to where my van is parked” I say sheepishly, “It's not too far from here right now.”

As we walk, I find myself analyzing this man who thinks he saved me from some skeeze. Okay, so maybe he kind of did. My wolf has been ignoring me for the last few months since I left my pack, so I can’t depend on her right now.

Taking in this man, I realize he is a fucking god. I'm pretty sure he is at least six foot three or maybe six foot four, built like a goddamn Viking. Beautiful dark chocolate-brown hair that's peeking out from under his ball cap and I swear the most beautiful emerald green eyes I've ever seen. What gets me though, is the damn tattoos that are peeking out of the collar of his shirt and snaking down his wrists and hands from under his cuffs. He is wearing a simple black Henley underneath a leather jacket and what has got to be the best pair of jeans I have ever seen on any man. They are leaving very little to the imagination right now and his ass looks fanfuckingtastic. What I wouldn't do to dig my nails into those sweet cheeks of his.

He catches me staring at him and I see a small smile form on his face. I look away quickly before he sees the arousal written all over mine. That smile is a serious panty soaker and mine are beyond drenched at this point. I watch him take a deep breath and I swear I hear a growl rumble out of him. But I could be wrong though. What kind of man just growls for absolutely no reason at all? I'm about to start some agonizing small talk when my van comes into view up ahead and suddenly my anxiety soars.

I've never actually told anyone that I live in the back of a van. I mean, it's like a mini camper with all the work I've done to it, but still. It's kind of embarrassing to explain that I sleep in my vehicle and have to keep a gym membership just to shower and keep myself clean. But I feel like I could trust him enough to tell him that. Though I am not sure why.

I don't like this feeling that is steadily growing within me, but I just go with the flow, because what is the point in fighting it? I am supposed to be Andy Smith, the vulnerable damsel in distress. That's why I changed my appearance and go by a different name here. I don't need The Alpha to find me or recognize me if I were to run into him.

We continue walking in silence across the car park to my van. There are a few times our hands brush together as we walk closely to one another. The tingle I get every time, followed by an overwhelming warmth, is intense and all-consuming. It makes it hard to think properly. Why am I letting this stranger know exactly where I lay my head at night and just how vulnerable I am while I do it?

God, I need to get my shit together.

This man is a stranger, no matter how he makes me feel when he is close. I need to make this quick and get rid of him so that I can move on with my life. Hopefully, this is the last time that I will see him. I can’t have any attachments here, and I cannot let my defenses down for anyone or anything. It's bad enough I already have done it for Cassie, my friend from the bar.

Finally reaching a little car park where I have my van tucked into the treeline, I turn to him, “Thank you so much for walking me to my van. Is there any way that I can thank you for everything you did for me tonight?”

Taking off his hat, he runs his hands through his long hair and looks around us, surveying the area. He is very observant. I'll give him that. Just when I don't think he is going to answer me, he steps impossibly close to me and grabs me by the chin to lift my face so he can look directly into my eyes. All I see is pure, unbridled lust. Putting my hands on his chest, to either pull him closer or keep him back, I don't know which. I can feel his heartbeat racing beneath my fingertips and his breathing becoming ragged. The longer he seems to stare into my eyes, the harder it is to breathe. Then there is also the ever-growing bulge pushing against my stomach, which seems like it's getting harder as each second passes.

His gaze falls to my parted lips, and he leans down until I feel his breath along my cheek. Breathing deeply, as if he's trying to ingrain my scent in his mind, he whispers, "I don't think there is anything that you would be willing to do for me, pup. But I will make sure to let you know if I can think of something.”

Just when I think he might act on that lust, he rubs his thumb across my bottom lip, taking a step back before turning on his heel and walking away. The confidence and promise of malice in his words have caused goosebumps to spread over every single inch of my body. My thighs clenching together involuntarily. What the hell is wrong with me?

Shaking my head, I turn and hurry over to my van before I end up doing something I may regret, like stopping him and telling him to just take me right here and right now. Fuck, now I need a goddamn shower to cool down before I overheat. It's too close to the full moon to be playing with fire like this. I cannot shift while I'm living here, and can’t risk outing myself to any of the packs around here. I have done everything in my power to mask my wolf since I left South Carolina, and I need to make sure that I keep it up. I cannot afford to lose control now.

Grabbing my shower bag and some clean clothes, I make my way across the street to the gym so I can shower this ridiculous day off. I need to get my head on straight and rein in the wolf that is fighting to break free. I cannot do this shit right now. As much as both of us want to let go, I just can't. Not yet.

But I am beyond worked up right now after that exchange with whoever the fuck that was. And since I have no one to help me, it would seem like I will have to take care of it myself, like I always do when this happens. It's been so long since I've been this hot and bothered, but it rarely takes me too long before I am chasing my release and satiated once again.

Unfortunately for me, the women's locker room seems to be locked up tighter than a nun's cunt, so I'll have to use the men's locker room tonight. It's not the first time that someone has locked that damn door, but it's annoying as fuck when they do.

Creeping in, I make sure that the locker room is empty before setting all my things on a bench near the sinks and start stripping down. There isn't usually anyone in here this late at night, but you never know. People can be weird with their workout times. However, it's like three in the morning now and if I don't hurry, the morning muscle heads will start filtering in. I'd be caught naked in here by a bunch of beefy wannabes. Most of who would love to get their dicks wet.

Stripping down to nothing takes no time at all, and I find myself in front of the mirrors. My mascara and eyeliner are smeared down my face from all the sweat and tears I've shed tonight, but my tattoos stand proud and vibrant against my pale skin and my piercings glitter in the lights from overhead. Running my hands up the curves that I have fallen in love with recently, I bask in the feel of them while imagining that my hands belong to one tall, dark, and broody stranger.

Before I get too lost in a fantasy that will never happen, I reach up and pull my blonde wig off so I can let down my real hair. It's hair wash day and I cannot wait to run my hands through it and let it breathe. I love my natural hair color. It is jet black and runs halfway down my back, but I have what they call poliosis. Mine presents itself as a thick band of white running through all the dark at the front. I love it because it makes me unique, but I used to dye it to match the rest when I was with my pack growing up. I hated it then because of the bullying I received, but I have learned since to embrace it, just like I have the rest of myself.

It's nearing three thirty in the morning now and I know that I need to get moving if I am going to get out of here in time, needing to get some sleep before the world outside gets too loud. I have so much to do today ahead of my shift and I will need whatever sleep I can get.

Chapter three

Damien

Walkingawaywasthehardest thing I have had to do in a long time. I know for a fact that she is sopping wet after that little encounter. I could smell her arousal as clear as day and God damn, I wanted nothing more than to taste that sweet pussy and lose myself in her. Ripping off her tiny ass clothes and just burying myself in her right there in the middle of the car park for the whole world to see, until she came so hard that she couldn’t stand.

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