Page 88 of A Wolfe in the Woods

But who could blame me? He’d rewritten something in my brain tonight, a language of dangerous magic and ferocity and desire.

When his eyes flicked to mine as he came to the door, it tilted up my chin. My heartbeat ticked up a bit, wondering if he could somehow sense the thoughts that curled inside me.

His smirk made me want to kiss it off him. “C’mon,” he murmured lowly, sliding his hand to my low back, leading me back down the hallway.

I couldn’t help but notice the desk when we made it to the living room. A large, ornate, wood desk that looked as if it had belonged there for centuries. And it was absolutely covered in paperwork, though the computer looked new, jutting from it like a tower.

“That looks like a lot,” I commented, nudging my chin toward the desk. I knew that Jonathan worked hard on the cabins, but I’d forgotten about what greeted him behind the scenes too.

Jonathan began leafing through the papers casually, half-disinterested. “I present to you the daily chaos that is my life. When I’m not keeping the cabins and land from falling apart, I play the role of accountant…permits, bills, land reports. All the things May swears I’ll eventually get around to. Things she can’t really help with.”

“Why is there so much of it?” I asked gently. “I thought you’d been open for a little while.”

He didn’t look up. “My father wasn’t exactly the most organized man. Never filed anything properly. Let permits expire. Left half of everything unfinished.” His tone flattened. “By the end, he wasn’t all there anymore.” He gestured to the clutter. “And this mess became the shape of his life.” He paused, fingers hovering over an envelope. “After he passed, the offers started pouring in from the companies that had been wanting to buy this land. They tried to take advantage of his diminished state. Like vultures circling, looking to pick the preserve clean.”

He thumbed through a stack of papers at the edge of the desk.

“Penbroke Mutual. Northridge Holdings. Merritt Corp. Polaris Equity…” he read aloud. “All of ’em want it, have for years.”

I froze, recognition hitting me. “Wait. What was that last one?”

He looked up. “Polaris Equity. You know them?”

“I don’t know…” I said, unsure. “Can I see that?”

He passed the envelope.

My heart skipped. The logo was stylized but unmistakable—an inverted triangle with a sunburst crest. The same one I’d seen from across Erik’s desk. The same name I’d overheard on his call.

I stared at it, pulse quickening. So that was what this was. Or part of it.

But I didn’t say a word because I didn’t know what it meant. Maybe nothing at all—maybe I was just being paranoid. I replaced the paper, telling myself I’d look into it when I was back in the city. It was probably nothing.

Jonathan had already moved toward the armchair, retrieving the flannel slung there. But before he put it on, his gaze cut to mine. I shifted from one foot to the other, my hip leaning against the old desk, my fingertip brushing along the ornate edge, tracing the wood pattern. Back and forth, back and forth.

Quiet fell between us. I felt uncertain. He’d said he would walk me back…but now that I was here, I found that I didn’t want to leave. The cabin smelled like him, warm and comforting. Even with the mess, I didn’t mind it because it was like he was stamped into every place my eyes flicked to. And I kept glancing down at the Polaris Equity logo, another puzzle piece that I couldn’t figure out to join all the others.

The flannel was still in his hands when he crossed the room toward me. The wood floor creaked under his weight, a hollow thudding from his short strides sounding. I tilted my chin up to meet his eyes when he loomed. His gaze had cut down to my somewhat bloodied and torn shirt, remnants and reminders of the evening, a soft frown lining his pensive expression.

Then he crouched, his hand tilting my cheek, and he brushed a sweet, soft kiss across my lips. So soft it felt like a delicate apology. For tonight? I didn’t understand why.

Still, I felt a little knot in my chest release. I went to my tiptoes, eager, pressing more fully against him to chase the warmth. Suddenly, a switch flipping, the kiss deepened, becoming harder, more demanding. His hand went from my cheek to my waist, digging, pulling me flush so that I could feel when his cock thickened in his pants.

Heat was beginning to coil tight in my belly?—

But then he broke the kiss with a soft, whispered curse. My heartbeat throbbed in my ears like an echoing drum. For a second, I was worried hewouldwalk me back, back into the black night.

Instead, he tugged my torn shirt over my head, forcing me to lift my arms, but there was no urgent demand to his movements. The material landed on the floor at our feet.

Then…I felt a prickle of relief when he dressed me in his flannel, threading my arms through the soft, worn material, fastening the middle buttons. The shirt hung off me, nearly three sizes too big…but it smelled like him.

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me toward the darkened hallway. “We can shower in the morning. Let’s go to bed.”

Fighting a smile, with a flutter in my belly, I followed.

CHAPTER 24

BLANCHETTE