by Amelia Jade
They weren’t ready yet, but that was fine. The chicken would take a bit to cook yet.
“You don’t seem to be home often enough for it to matter,” he said. “Though maybe if you had someone in your life, you might have more of an urge to be.”
Mila turned away, unsure of how to respond to such a comment. It wasn’t that he was wrong. Oh no. In fact, the comment hit home rather hard if she were honest with herself. She didn’t need a man in her life. The past several years had clearly demonstrated that.
But there was a large difference between needing a man and wanting a man. Over the past six months or so, she’d found herself slowly realizing that it was a want she did have. Not just for the sex, though it had been quite some time since she’d had that either, but for the companionship.
Mila wanted a best friend, someone she could share everything with, who could be there for her when she needed it, but also who she could care for. Right now all she had was the job, and Ellie. The cat was amazing, but she wasn’t overly companionable, except when she wanted it. Which suited Mila’s current lifestyle just fine.
But things were likely to change soon, and she wondered how she would adapt to it.
The pair of them had fallen silent, standing to either side of the stove as they tended to their own individual parts of dinner. Mila thought about asking if he wanted anything besides meat and potatoes, but then decided she didn’t want more. That sounded just fine to her.
Pierce pulled the chicken from the pan, setting it equally on the plates, just as she began to mash the potatoes. He’d made so much that it covered nearly three-quarters of each plate. But however he’d blended the meager spices she had together, it smelled so good. Her entire house smelled like it now.
“It needs to sit for a few minutes anyway before its ready,” he told her. “So no worries.”
She nodded, relieved that they weren’t waiting on her. Her eyes glanced over at the dinner table, making sure it was set and ready for them. The fewer the hiccups, the less stress Pierce would have to put up with.
Then an idea came to her. With a spoon she put large clumps of the nice and fluffy potatoes on each plate.
“Yum,” Pierce said, taking both plates and heading for the table.
“Wait,” she said, placing a hand on his back and stopping him in his tracks.
Mila slid by him to the table, where she grabbed napkins and cutlery for each of them.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“We’re not eating here,” she informed him.
“We’re not? Where are we going to eat? Your formal room that hasn’t been touched since you staged it when you moved in?” he teased.
Mila turned her head to the side, sticking her tongue out as she walked out of the kitchen.
“Nope,” she said, and then pulled open the door to the basement.
“Mila,” Pierce began.
“Shove it,” she said politely. “Now get your ass down here.”
She hurried down the stairs, looking around for something to make into a table. A laundry basket caught her eye, and in a flash she snatched it, upending it and setting it down in the middle of the carpet.
“Here we go,” she said, pointing at it so that Pierce wouldn’t protest.
He just smiled and set both plates down carefully. Mila waited till he was seated, then she moved to the bottom of the stairs and dimmed the light as low as she was comfortable with to eat under, and then joined him. Passing out the cutlery, she tried to avoid his gaze, but she kept sneaking peeks.
“What?” she asked at last.
“Nothing,” he replied. “Just once again marveling at how understanding you are.”
“It’s my house,” she said. “I don’t want you trashing it. Down here is different.” There was a smile on her face as she spoke though, and his eyes laughed with delight.
“Of course,” he replied, then gestured at the plates. “Shall we?”
Mila nodded. “Dig in.”
Chapter Eight
Pierce
With their plates stacked, he quickly took them upstairs, following Mila’s instructions to just leave them in the sink. She’d made the effort to let him eat in the basement where he was most comfortable, so he felt the need to clean up.
As he came back down he saw that she’d poured them both a portion of alcohol.
“You don’t have to drink with me,” he said.
Mila just glared at him. “What, am I not allowed to drink here and there? I’m not an alcoholic,” she informed him. “I’m an adult, and I know how much I can have.” She smiled. “I don’t need to be babied.”
Bowing slightly in apology, Pierce accepted the glass. “That wasn’t my intent. And I never thought you need to be babied,” he said. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that you’re tougher than you first let on back in the forest.”
“Is that a compliment? Or should I be mad you so badly underestimated me?” she replied.
Her face stayed still at first, but as he tried to figure out if she was joking or not, her lips started to twitch.
“Not fair,” he replied. “I don’t know you well enough to realize it was a joke.”
Mila laughed. “That’s what makes it more fun!”
Shaking his head, Pierce pushed along the floor until he could rest his back against the exposed concrete of the foundation. Mila slid closer, so that they weren’t talking across a vast distance.
“You know, you need to do something about that,” she said, her eyes focused on him, but not on his face.
“About what?” he asked.
“Your hair,” she replied, and Pierce was actually positive he could see her lip peel back in disgust.
He shook his head, the nearly shoulder-length locks falling forward. “I mean, it could use a wash, sure, but—”
“Nope,” she said. “You can’t pull it off. I’m sorry to burst your bubble. Some guys can, and they look great. You…you just look silly. You need a cleaner cut with that face of yours.”
Pierce lifted his eyebrows. “With ‘that face’ of mine, is it?” he asked carefully. “Got something against my mug?”
Mila grinned, a look of sheer laughter that buoyed his spirits considerably. He enjoyed it when she was happy. It made him happy, and it helped his bear relax too, he was sure.
Except….except when she did that, the little stretch of her back that pulled her baby-blue V-neck shirt tight against her body, exposing the slight hint of cleavage. Just enough to make him want to take a look whenever she bent over at all, but not enough to be too revealing when she stood up.
Or the way she’d leaned up against the stove as she’d worked, accentuating her rear in the tight white pants she wore. It was such a casual thing that Pierce doubted she even realized she was doing it. But when she did…
Well, his bear was anything but relaxed, like another part of him.
Down boy. You just met her. She’s human. She’s not likely to just leap into the sack with you. Mila is one you’re going to respect, okay? Not only because it’s what she wants, but because she’s damn well worth it, and if you look past your lust, you’ll see it.
It was true, and he felt his bear acknowledge that there was something different about her. That didn’t quench the fire between his legs. He’d been imprisoned for a long time now, without any touch at all. Not even his own. It had been tough. Was even tougher now that he was in such close proximity to such a stunning woman.
But for Mila, Pierce would put up with it.
I would put up with anything.
“No, your face is just fine there, don’t worry,” she teased. “But that hair needs to go.”
Except that.
“You want me to cut my hair off?” he asked incredulously. “Is this how you treat every guy you meet? Tell him he needs to change himself just for you?”
Mila laughed. “Nope, just the ones I meet unconscious in the woods and bring back
to my house for no good reason.”
It was his turn to laugh, and he did. Eventually Mila joined in, and the two of them just cut loose for a moment.
“I see. Well, I’m not sure I agree with your assessment,” he said.
“That’s fine,” she said assertively. “But it’s still happening.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“You can fight it all you want, but trust me, Pierce. It needs to go. A woman knows these things.”
Hmm. She had a point there. If a woman said he’d look better without it, it was likely true.
And if Mila said he should do it…
“Still, that would involve going outside, into your city. I don’t know if I could stay calm enough while getting it done,” he admitted.
Mila thought about it. “Okay fine, then I’ll cut your hair.”
Pierce was speechless. Not for long though.
“Ah. Ahaha. Ahahahaha.” He said, the laughter fake and mechanical. “How about no.”
“No, come on!” Mila said, clearly warming to the idea. “It’ll be fun.”
He regarded her frankly. “You and I, it appears, have very different ideas of what fun consists of.”
Mila laughed. “It won’t be that bad, Pierce!” She grinned wickedly. “It’s hard to get worse than what you currently have.”
“Oh no you didn’t!” he replied, though his face was split in a grin.
“Yeah, look,” she said, sidling up next to him on all fours, then flipping onto her knees.
A hand worked its way through his hair. Fingernails dragged ever so softly along his skull. Almost by rote instinct, Pierce felt his eyes close as she began to play with his admittedly scraggly hair.
“Listen, we’ll cut it nice and short. So most of it will just lop off with scissors.” She paused, pulling his hair this way and that. “There are several ways we could style it, you know. Maybe the pull-over style, or whatever it’s called these days. The young-person-combover look.”
Pierce opened his eyes and stared at her blankly.
“What?” she protested. “It looks good.”
“Mila,” he said gently, rubbing one hand on her leg. “I come from a small-town shifter world. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, right. Okay,” she said, continuing right on. “So you sort of cut it short all along the sides and back in a fade,” she explained, running her fingers gently across his scalp to mimic her words.
Pierce had to do his best not to groan softly at the tingles that rippled down his spine as she did.
“Then, you kind cut it longer over here,” she said, playing with the hair on the top right of his scalp.
It was harder for him to resist this time.
“And then this side a little shorter. Then you put some gel or whatever in it—I’m not really sure…I’d have to do a quick internet search of what’s recommended—and you pull the longer hair up and over to fall on the other side.”
She put action to words with her hands, though obviously with his longer hair it didn’t quite work out, but he got the picture.
“It’ll be good,” she said, her hands not leaving his hair, continuing to work through it. “It’ll give you a nice style.”
He laughed. “Mila, style means nothing to me. I don’t go anywhere where that’s a thing.”
“Maybe not,” she insisted. “But the women, the women will like it.”
He turned to look at her.
“Perhaps I don’t want other women to like it,” he said.
Did you just…
Hoo boy.
The temperature in the basement skyrocketed up suddenly as his eyes caught hers, trapping the chocolatey brown orbs in his gaze and not letting go. Tension filled the space around them, as thick as Jell-O.
He knew he should resist, but everything was pulling him closer to her. Mila wasn’t resisting either. Her eyes flicked quickly back and forth between his eyes, and her tongue darted out to nervously dampen her lips.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw her plump lips remain slightly parted. The look was so inviting, he just wanted to cup her chin and press himself to her. The urge was overwhelming, pushing past his defenses, and apparently hers as well. Mila never backed away, instead swaying slightly closer as they looked deep into each other’s souls.
Her hands seemed to pull away from his head, but he reached up quickly and held them there.
“No,” he said, his voice hoarse with barely-contained desire. “That feels nice. Please continue.”
Mila nodded, her head shaky and unstable, making the movement jerky, a reflection of her nerves. Pierce’s eyes became lidded as he felt her fingers drag through his hair.
Slowly, so as not to alarm her, he reached up and tugged gently at the hair elastic. It came free, and golden-blonde strands temptingly cascaded around her neck.
Biting his lip in nervousness, he reached up and gently ran a hand through her hair.
Mila’s mouth fell open a little more and she made a soft excitable noise.
Lust flared within him.
Chapter Nine
Mila
Oh God, it was happening, wasn’t it?
He was going to lean in and kiss her, and Mila would have to make a decision. Did she let the gorgeous—if somewhat scruffy—shifter make the first move, or did she pull away and let her wits return to her? It wasn’t nearly as easy a decision as logic dictated it should be.
Mila knew she shouldn’t even be letting him stroke her hair just then, even though it felt soo good. His fingers seemed to know the exact pressure points on her scalp, scraping ever so gently against her. A shiver rushed through her body, exciting nerves and to her surprise, hardening her nipples until she was sure they were showing through her bra and the thin material of her shirt.
Logically, she shouldn’t have even been remotely close to letting him kiss her. She simply didn’t know him well enough. He claimed not to even remember how he got in the forest! Mila believed him, but still, she’d only just met the man and learned his name. Yes, he was gorgeous, and strong, and sexy and ugh, so utterly tempting.
But he was an unknown quantity. All her life she’d believed in and thrived off of her professionalism, her ability to dispassionately analyze a situation and do exactly what was necessary. That’s what had gotten her the job she currently held, and allowed her to provide for such a nice existence, like the house and car, and the generous savings account she had.
Yet all it apparently took was one scruffy rogue to turn all that completely on its head and have her making bad decision after bad decision. Bringing him to her cabin. Not calling the police. Driving him to the city. Inviting him into her home! Just layer after layer of stupid calls, yet she’d never even thought twice about them.
You know why you didn’t.
Yes, but her attraction to him had accelerated everything. Just like it was threatening to accelerate her into his arms, and to accelerate her clothes across the room as he flung them clear of her body.
“Pierce,” she said softly.
To her dismay though, the word came out filled with want and need, not as a cautionary “we need to stop.”
No. No no no. Speak up. Tell him what you want.
But her mouth wasn’t working.
That’s because it’s covered by his, dummy.
Mila’s eyes opened wide as Pierce leaned in, the touch of his lips a fiery blast that threatened to sear her skin. She hesitated, but the warmth of him simply reached out, caught her, and pulled her in. Mila found herself diving head-first into the kiss, even allowing her lips to part as they explored each other hungrily, eager to taste more.
Oh, it felt so good.
She didn’t know if she’d ever been kissed quite so thoroughly before. The emotions it awoke in her thundered through Mila’s system, overwhelming her with a hammering need that promised not to rest until it was satiated. A roaring sound in her ears reveal
ed itself to be her heart trying to burst through her chest as his touch sent it into a frenzy.
The idea that he wanted her, that he wanted her, was most prevalent in her mind. It wormed its way past all of her defenses, presenting itself in the most blatant way possible as his hand cupped the back of her head. Mila heard herself whimper, hating herself for it yet knowing she wanted it just as badly as she knew she shouldn’t have it.
Laying her trembling hand on his face, Mila contemplated giving in. Just letting whatever was going to happen, happen, and damn the consequences. She was a grown-ass adult, she could deal with it. Couldn’t she?
But then, a burst of cool, icy logic managed to reassert itself as she pulled back, dropping her one hand.
No.
“No,” she said softly, jerking away from him suddenly.
Unbidden her hand came up to her lips. She touched them gently and then looked at her fingers as if expecting to see something, but they were bare.
“Pierce, I…” she faltered, just shaking her head.
Many of her instincts were screaming at her, telling her to just reach out with that hand and grab his shirt, to pull him in to her. To let him lay her down onto the floor and mount her. He would treat her right, they promised. She wouldn’t regret it.
That’s what Mila was afraid of though: that she wouldn’t regret it if she let their clothes come off, if she let him inside of her. That she would just want more and more. He felt like an addiction just waiting to take root within her, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. Half of her was ecstatic. Half of her knew it just felt right. And the other half of her was terrified of what it all meant.
“I understand,” he said, visibly restraining himself as he pulled back. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
She shook her head, standing up. “No, it’s not your fault. I, ah, I let it happen too. Don’t blame yourself. But I should go.”
Taking several steps toward the stairs she paused and turned. “We’ll talk this over in the morning, figure it out. Okay?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t say anything.
