by Lola Glass
“That’s low.” I shook my head at her, ignoring the intrigued expressions from anyone in earshot. That included Roman. “And ridiculous. Anyone can see my hair is red.”
“Bullshit.” Some random guy laughed. I’d made him three drinks already. “It’s totally pink.”
I flipped him off and the small crowd we’d gathered roared with laughter.
Jamie and I competed for tips and made drinks for half an hour before I noticed Roman’s glass was empty and went back to fill it. He lifted his eyes from his phone.
“I can make you a virgin drink if you want.” I offered. Beating Jamie had kicked my adrenaline up too high if I was offering things to the guy I was trying not to have feelings for.
“I wouldn’t even know what to order.” He said.
I leaned toward him and dropped my voice, meeting his gaze.
“Do you trust me?”
His lips quirked upward.
“Depends on the day.”
My mouth twisted in a smirk.
“Good answer.”
It only took me a minute to put the drink together, and I stuck an orange slice on the glass as I brought it to Roman.
Why was I nervous about giving it to him?
“What’s in it?” He asked as I handed it to him.
“Just drink it.”
He lifted the glass to his lips and took a swig. His eyebrows lifted.
“Better than I expected. What’s it called?”
“A pussyfoot.” I grinned at the name and Roman chuckled. I loved the way he rumbled when he did that.
Roman slipped some cash out of his pocket and leaned over the bar, tucking it into the top of my bra. I froze, swallowing hard as his knuckles brushed the sensitive skin at the top of my boob.
Shit.
Damn.
What the hell was this man doing to me?
“That’s where you put your tips, right?” He asked, voice low and close enough to my ear to give me goosebumps. Desire flooded my lower belly, and the way his eyes glinted told me he’d caught the scent of it.
I pushed his hand away from my chest slower than I should have, and he didn’t lean away from me. Tugging the money out of my bra, I glanced down and then did a double-take.
“Roman.” I protested, sliding the bills apart to show him the five hundred dollars he’d given me. “This isn’t a tip.”
“It’s an investment in Jamie and Oliver’s relationship.” His lips curved. “It’ll make him jealous when she walks home in her underwear.”
“You’re invested in keeping me from walking through the city half-naked.” I countered, dropping the money on the bar in front of him. “I’ll win without your charity.”
“It’s about as far from charity as you can get.” He grabbed the bills, tucking them back in my bra lightning-fast. He wasn’t groping, just tucking, but I smacked his hand anyway.
He sat back down and grabbed his drink. “You’re good at this.” He said, after taking a drink.
Someone waved me over and I went to take care of them, shooting daggers at Roman with my eyes. My replacement would be there soon, and something told me I wouldn’t get away from Roman after I got off work.
Ten minutes later, Jamie was stripping behind the nightclub while I cackled like a maniac. As predicted, I won even without Roman’s tip. Which I hadn’t given back to him, purely out of fear his fingers would slip back in my bra and he’d smell how much I wanted him again.
Oliver looked pissed, and Jamie wore a look that was some combination of excitement and dread. Roman was grinning, and the other enforcer had already headed home.
“Nice bra.” I told Jamie, who blushed the same color as her bright red lace bralette and thong. She probably would’ve worn less-revealing underwear if she’d been planning a walk through the city in the near-nude. Oliver growled at me, and Roman tucked me out of the other male’s reach.
We started walking, and I hoped everyone was too shocked by Jamie’s lack of clothing to notice Oliver’s wolfy eyes.
“Great ass.” I called out, just to piss Oliver off and embarrass Jamie. She scowled at me over her shoulder and I grinned.
The sun was setting, and snow fell lightly. I shivered in the cold so Roman slung his arm over my shoulder, lending me his warmth.
“Work that body!” I hollered, and Roman slapped his hand over my mouth. Oliver glowered at me and Jamie walked faster. “Let go of me.” I mumbled into the Alpha’s hand.
“You’re pestering them.” He said, hand not budging.
I licked his hand and groaned when I scented his desire in the air.
“Seriously?” I complained. He just shot me an amused smirk.
I had one last catcall saved up from my time in the Bronx, so I ripped Roman’s hand off my mouth and shouted,
“YEAH BABY, THAT’S MY WIFE!”
Oliver scooped his mate up off the ground and picked up the pace, practically sprinting into the skyscraper with her. Roman tossed me over his shoulder, but I could feel his shoulder shaking with silent laughter.
“Spoil-sport.” I complained into his back muscles.
Which I pointedly didn’t notice were gorgeous. And that he smelled too fricking good.
“Troublemaker.” He shot back.
“What are you going to do, spank me?” I taunted.
“Only if you want me to.” One of his big hands landed on my ass and squeezed. I squeaked, smacking him upside the head. “This is a great ass.” His hand went back to my thigh. With my vagina so close to his head, I’m sure he could smell my desire loud and clear. His chest rumbled and I groaned.
“I hate you.”
“It’ll pass.” He promised, setting me down on my feet in the elevator.
Damn him for knowing me that well.
Roman helped me out of my jacket when we got back to my apartment. I didn’t have a coat yet—something that needed to be resolved pronto. I’d just never gotten around to it.
He hung my jacket and his coat up and I headed into the kitchen, scrubbing my hands with soap. My stomach demanded food, and cooking would give me something to do.
“Which part of the conversation did you hear?” I finally asked.
“Jamie asked when I said you weren’t enough for me.” He was calmer than I’d expected considering the topic. I couldn’t smell any emotion, as opposed to the anger I’d expected.
“I didn’t actually say you told me that; I told a lady I realized it. Which I did.”
Pulling some raw chicken out of the fridge, I stuck it on a cutting board and grabbed a knife. Roman sat in a bar stool and seemed to be waiting for me to explain, but he’d be waiting a long time.
“Well that’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” I shot him a dark stare.
“Yes.” He mirrored my expression.
I turned on music from my speaker and started to cut the chicken into thin strips, ignoring Roman’s eyes on me. A few minutes passed before he growled.
“I’m not a mind reader, Hen. Tell me why you’ve decided you’re not enough for me.”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you. I’ve already told you to stop chasing me. The pack comes first for you, and I get that. It’s just not what I want in a mate.”
“You’re dodging the question.”
I shot him a fiery look.
“And you’re pestering me.”
Roman groaned and got off the chair, pulling my fridge open, glancing at the chicken and pulling out onions and bell peppers. He grabbed a knife and cutting board, dropping them all a few feet to my side.
“You don’t need to wear the damn scarf.” He growled, tugging it over my head to reveal the bruises on my neck. The scent of his anger caught my attention.
“Forgot I had it on.” I said. That was the truth.
“I’m so damn sorry.” Roman scrubbed his fingers with soap so hard I wondered if he was trying to remove the skin.
“Why? You didn’t tell her to attack me, did you?”
&nbs
p; “Never.” he snarled.
“Then you have nothing to be sorry about. She’s a grown-ass woman who can make her own decisions, and I am too. Next time she comes by to see me, I’ll know to be ready to protect myself.”
Roman dried his hands on the towel and tossed it to the counter.
“How can you say things like that,” He gestured to me, “And then tell me you’re not enough for me? It doesn’t make any sense, Hen. Most women would have ended things after that shit show earlier and ran for the hills, but you just put on a scarf and went to work. I showed up at the bar to grovel at your sexy little feet and found you claiming you’re not good enough for me. How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”
He paced the kitchen, the air flooding with the scent of his guilt.
“You think my feet are sexy?” I glanced down at my feet, hidden by the brown leather combat boots I hadn’t taken off yet.
Weird compliment, but I could dig it.
Roman groaned.
“That’s what you got from everything I just said?”
“Fine, you want to know what I think? I think you ignored me on the shifting floor. Didn’t even consider what I was saying when I was the one who got strangled. I think with the Georgia Alpha, you picked the pack over me. I get that was your duty or responsibility or whatever you want to call it, but I’m too selfish to accept that. I think I’m not enough for you because you need someone who’s okay with coming in second to the pack and your family and I will never be that person. I think you’re not enough for me for the exact same reason.”
Roman pulled the knife from my hand and spun me around, pinning me between him and the counter. His lips collided with mine, hands cupping my face.
I pushed him away before the kiss could get hotter.
“I told you I’m not right for you.” I glared at him, grabbing my knife and pointing it at the Alpha.
Like I could ever stab him.
“Last I checked, that doesn’t translate to ‘kiss me’.”
“I love this pack, Henley. I do. But when I’m mated, my mate will be my entire world. I’ve done the shitty family thing. I’ve dealt with abuse. I’ve seen the way it hurts a woman when her mate doesn’t put her first. That’s not a life I’d give anyone, especially you. I’m still trying to balance what I feel for you with everything I have to do for the pack, but I want you to tell me when I’ve hurt you or if I’m being unreasonable.”
I didn’t lower my knife.
“You’re assuming I’m going to agree to mate with you at some point.” My eyes were narrowed at him.
“Yes.” He met my gaze head-on.
“Cocky bastard.”
“I thought you decided just to go with ‘dick’.”
I lowered my knife and rolled my eyes, turning back to my chicken to hide my smirk.
“Both words refer to the same part of you, so they’re pretty much the same insult.” I said.
Roman’s chuckle lifted my lips further toward a smile.
He stepped back up to the cutting board he’d got out.
“What are we making?”
“I’m making tacos. Are you staying for dinner?” I checked.
“If you’re inviting me.”
“Invitations are lame. I’m more of a ‘just show up hoping for the best’ kind of girl.”
“Then I’m staying for dinner.” He grabbed the onion and cut off the end. “You can’t have tacos without onions.”
“That should be a law.” I agreed.
We cooked and ate and cleaned together, and didn’t stop talking through any of it. It was weird to spend so much one-on-one time with a person, let alone Roman, but in a good way. A really, really good way.
FIFTEEN
Despite my calm and relaxing evening, I tossed and turned all night.
Around 10 AM the next morning, I gave up on sleeping. I threw on a sports bra and shorts, heading down to spend some time in wolf form so I could breathe for a few minutes without feeling like the world was closing in on me.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing London dressed in ripped jeans that fit her like a second skin and a sheer white top over a black bandeau-bra. Giant, glittery sunglasses were perched on her head and pushing huge curls from her bright blue eyes, which lit up when she saw me. Her arms were loaded with shiny pink Victoria’s Secret bags.
“Henley!” She exclaimed as I stepped into the elevator. It continued upward to the top floor. “How are you?”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “Haven’t slept much.”
London’s smile twisted into a grimace.
“I know how that goes. Retail therapy always cheers me up, especially when my employers cover it.” She shook the bags at me.
“I’ve never heard of retail therapy in bras and underwear.” I eyed the pink bags. I’d always been the chick who just grabbed a sports bra that kept my girls safely strapped down and a pair of comfortable, cheeky panties.
“Serious? Do you only own sports bras?” London’s eyebrows shot into her forehead as the doors opened onto the top floor. “I don’t even know why I asked; I’ve never seen you in a real bra. Come on.” She grabbed my arm and towed me down the hallway.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m going to drop these bags in my room and take you to Victoria’s Secret on a little shopping spree.”
“I don’t really care about my underwear.”
“Well you should. The right bra and underwear will make you feel like a sex goddess who can conquer the world.”
“Not sure I want to feel like a world-conquering sex goddess.” I said, following her in as she scanned her keycard and opened the door.
“You will.” She promised, dropping her bags on her kitchen counter. “GUNNER!” She yelled.
“You live with him?” After what happened the other night, I’d assumed they’d be staying far away from each other.
“Depends on the day.” She rolled her eyes. “I’M LEAVING AGAIN. DON’T LOOK IN THE BAGS ON THE COUNTER.”
Once again, London grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room. She flashed me a mischievous grin.
“Going through my lingerie makes him totally horny. The sex tonight will be great.”
“TMI, girl. Way TMI.”
Especially after seeing how their fights went.
“Let’s grab Arla. If she and Jamie come with us, we’ll have enough chick firepower to leave the dude enforcers home. Roman would flip if we let his guys watch you try on lingerie.”
“Roman and I aren’t together.” I felt the need to clear that up. Particularly before going shopping for underwear. “We’re drawn to each other in wolf form, and we’re sort of friends. But that’s it.”
Lie. Total lie. But I wanted it to be true.
Didn’t I?
“That can’t be it. Have you made out yet? Talked about mating? Had a heart-to-heart about childhood struggles?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I ended that conversation as quickly as possible.
London opened the door into the office and stepped inside.
“Hey, chica. I’ll hook you up with some free bras if you come to VS with us. Henley here is in dire need of a boob pick-me-up.”
“I need a break anyway.” Arla grabbed her purse off the floor next to her large glass desk and led us out of the room. “Let’s grab Jamie. Lilac is going to be bummed she missed this.”
Both girls looked at me after the mention of the girl who’d challenged me for Roman and then looked away.
“You can see if she wants to come too.” As soon as I said it I knew it was stupid. I’d reamed into her pretty good after the fight, and she clearly hated me.
Plus she’d kissed Roman, which I was totally holding a silent grudge about.
“On second thought, maybe we should just enjoy today. As much as we can enjoy shopping for underwear.”
“You’ll be into this.” Arla assured me. She flashed her black-painted nails my way. “Sexy underw
ear has the same effect as this stuff. Makes a girl feel like she can kick serious ass.”
We stopped by Jamie’s place and she seemed even more excited about the trip than Arla had. I’d seen first-hand her taste in fancy underwear so it wasn’t surprising.
One twenty-minute cab ride later, we were walking into a ginormous Victoria’s secret. The walls were plastered with pictures of women in lingerie, and I grinned when I realized a good portion of the pictures were of London.
Said model ushered me into a dressing room and insisted I have my boobs measured for the right bra size. Apparently “real” bras didn’t come in options of small, medium, or large. Who knew?
Because Jamie and Arla already knew their sizes, they got to browse while some chick came in and measured my chest. She then brought in a couple of bras for me to try on, to see what I liked the most.
The first one I put on made my boobs look massive.
“Come show me.” London ordered from outside. She’d been chatting with the lady who measured me along with a few other people who recognized her as the model from the walls
“Hard pass.” I called back. We hadn’t gotten to the underwear yet, so I was still wearing my sleep shorts.
“Get out here!”
I sighed loudly but did as she instructed. London whistled.
“Too obviously a push-up bra. Next.” She swept her hand at me, and I walked back into the room in my bra and shorts.
London rejected the next two bras too, and then I rejected the four after that. Everything they came in with was lacy and flowery, and I really wasn’t that kind of girl. I was definitely questioning Arla’s claim that sexy bras made a girl feel powerful when I tried on the eighth. It was a simple silky V-shape with complex straps.
When I put it on, I couldn’t stop checking out my own boobs.
“What are you doing? Come out here.” London complained. After a sweep of her eyes, she declared, “It’s perfect.”
“It is.” I admitted, checking my silhouette in the mirror.
Damn, I looked good. Even in my sleep shorts.
Arla and Jamie poked their heads out of the changing room to ooh and ahh a bit, and we all went back to shopping. London forced me to pick out a piece of bedroom-lingerie as she called it, “just in case”.
