by Lizzy Prince
Remi insists I bring over a variety of outfits so that she can veto anything too ‘Pollyanna.’ I throw some stuff in a bag and dash to her place after I shower. As soon as I walk into her apartment, a drink is thrust in my hand.
“Catch up! I’ve already had two,” Remi commands as I give the Star Wars glass a sniff. Her mom had these same glasses when we were little. I’m sure that’s where Remi got them from. They have to be from the 80s, and it shows. Half of Luke’s face is gone from the glass, likely rubbed off after thousands of washings.
The drink smells fruity, so I don’t bother fighting her. I just take a small sip and then hiss. “Holy balls, that’s strong, Remi. Do you want me to go out with you tonight? Or do you just want me passed out on the floor?”
Remi smirks and grabs my bag out of my hand, pushing me into her apartment so she can close the door. “Hopefully both. Come on. Let’s get you fancy.”
By the time we finish getting ready, I’m a little drunk. Okay, a lot drunk. Remi keeps pushing my glass in my face, like I’m a kid who needs help getting a drink. I smack her hand away the first few times, but after my entire body starts to get all warm and floaty, I just laugh instead. She really should know better. I’m a horrible lightweight. It’s my birthday though—well, the day after my birthday—and despite originally being annoyed at the interference, I’m excited to take a breath and have some fun. I’m only twenty-four, for Christ’s sake. Oh wait, I’m twenty-five now. I giggle at my own meandering thoughts while I finish up my makeup.
Remi’s dancing around the apartment while I finish getting ready. My makeup is more intense than my usual mascara and Chapstick that I wear to work, and my hair tumbles down my back in long soft waves. I was told I couldn’t wear pants, so I pick out a white skater dress with little cherries all over it. The back has a cutout that exposes most of the bottom of my back, but I’m still covered at the top, which is necessary since my boobs are not allowed to go free in the wild.
The dress is short but flirty, and it makes me feel cute and sassy. The sleeves stop mid-way down my upper arm, so I grab a sweater in case it gets too cold. Although, I might not need it since it’s surprisingly mild for a mid-October night. When I walk out into the living room, Remi’s face puckers. “You look so sweet I think I just got diabetes.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I fire back at her. You never know with Remi.
“Oh, it absolutely is. I want to eat you up.” She wraps an arm around my neck and plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Oh my God, how drunk are you?” I ask, snorting with laughter because I’m pretty drunk, too.
“Not as drunk as you.” She chuckles as we head out of the apartment.
It just so happens that there’s an Oktoberfest happening down on Main Street. Thankfully my bakery isn't doing anything for the festival, so I don’t have that to worry about on top of my issues with letting go of the reigns for the night.
Remi lives right downtown, so we don’t have far to walk. In fact, I could hear the thump of music the whole time we’d been getting ready. Remi grabs hold of my hand and skips, twirling herself as she dances with the song and pulls me after her until we’re both spinning and laughing.
Flashing traffic barricades close off a section of Main Street, and I’m pretty sure half of the town has come out for the festival. We have to push through the throngs of people to get drinks and find a spot to listen to music. The crowd is feeling good, and everyone looks like they’re out to have a good time. People call out or wave hello as we navigate through all the people. Remi must know every other person here because she keeps getting stopped, mainly by guys who want her attention. She is drop dead gorgeous. The kind that makes people do a double take. It would be easy to hate her for it, if she ever made it seem like she gave a crap. Mostly she just waves off compliments and tells people to go fuck themselves. She has no interest in romance and poetry. She’s a realist. At least, that’s what she always says, although sometimes I get the feeling she wants someone to sweep her off her feet. But there is no way she’d ever say that out loud.
As we drink our beer and mingle, I acknowledge a thought that’s been in the back of my mind since Millie planted it there. Maybe Silas will be here tonight. It’s funny—or maybe sad and pathetic— because I only know his name because I finally broke down and asked Millie one day when I couldn’t take calling him cupcake anymore. That’s what I affectionately shortened cupcake man to in my head after he ate my cupcake the first time we met. Okay, even I realize how dirty that sounds. Still, I didn’t know his name forever, and I had to call him something in my pathetic fantasies. Sometimes I still call him cupcake when I’m feeling spunky. But not to his face. Oh, hell no.
I have this longing to see him. He was in the store earlier that week and had flashed me his signature smile, but I’m beginning to ache for more. Our flirty banter and barely there brushes of fingers as I pass him a coffee just isn’t cutting it any more. Normally, I’m not the type to do anything about crushes. I’m too nervous that I’ll get shot down to make a move—a big thanks to my 4th grade crush, Alec Penderson, for scarring me for life. But if something doesn’t happen with Silas soon, I’ll be tempted to take some very drastic measures the next time he comes into my shop. Something like jump over the counter, wrap my legs around his waist, and pull his head down in a mind-blowing kiss until he walks out of the bakery with me wrapped around him.
At least, that’s what happens in my imagination. Still, there’s a little spark of magic in the air tonight, a tingle prickling down my spine that tells me it’s going to be a monumental night. It keeps this little flame of hope alive in my heart that I might see him. It’s such a small request. Come on, universe, help a girl out.
I’m feeling no pain after my fourth beer, except for the one in my bladder. Remi’s in a heated debate with some guy about a band I’ve never heard of before. I mime walking away with my fingers and then throw a thumb over my shoulder to let her know I’m going pee without interrupting her. She waves me off but then shouts after me, “I’ll be here,” like it’s an afterthought.
I’m making my way back to Remi when I spot my favorite tawny head of hair towering above everyone else. My stomach does a dramatic flip, and I barely contain my squeal of glee as I try to school my features. There’s a good chance I look constipated, because I’m crap at hiding my emotions.
Without thought, my legs take me toward Silas. I slip through the crowd, using my small size to my advantage for once, ending up directly in front of him. He doesn’t see me at first. His eyes are focused on the band playing on a stage halfway down the block. There’s no need for me to pretend to stumble into him, because someone knocks an elbow into my back and sends me flying forward. My face is pressed into his chest while my hands splay across his stomach—his very hard, taut stomach—as I attempt not to fall flat on my face.
“What’s this?” His voice rumbles above me, deep and husky, and it somehow makes me feel every bone in my body as they liquify.
Tipping my head back, I look up and find those gorgeous mossy eyes light up with recognition as a smile blazes across his face. His dark blond hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it. It’s a little long on top, as if he’s missed a handful of haircuts, and it’s just enough to grab hold of. Ahem, should someone need something to grab hold of.
“Bridget.” My name on his lips nearly sends me over the edge, but I manage to keep my wits enough to apologize.
“Sorry, someone pushed me,” I say, but obviously I’m not sorry enough to remove my hands, because they are still very firmly pressed against his stomach.
“I’m happy to catch you anytime, Toots.” He smiles again, and I meet it with my own bright, face-stretching smile.
“You having fun tonight?” He always has this teasing glint in his eyes, and I swear they sparkle when he looks at me.
I nod, a cheeseball grin on my face as my drunk-ass eyes scan down his body. I’m obviously not at al
l discrete because he chuckles, totally aware of my perusal. But he looks so damn fine in his worn-out jeans and dark blue tee-shirt. He isn’t wearing anything special, but he doesn’t need embellishment. He’s like the sun, all glowing warmth and golden energy. Heat radiates from him, and I’m way too tempted to wrap myself around him. I left my sweater with Remi and was regretting it, but now that I’m standing next to him, I’m getting warmer by the minute.
“It’s my birthday,” I reply, my voice breathy for no good reason. Still, my answer seems to surprise him.
“Hey, happy birthday.” He gives my waist a squeeze, and it takes me a moment to work out when he started touching me. How did I miss his hands settling on my waist?
I don’t know who he’s here with or where they’re at, and I don’t know where Remi is either. Everyone else in the world disappears as we stand in the middle of the crowd and talk about everything and nothing in a blur of laughter. I’m smiling so much that my face aches. I’m no longer cold. In fact, I can’t even feel the temperature. Just a giddy contentment at standing for so long in Silas’s orbit.
My hands are still on his stomach, and his grip remains on my waist, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my back every few minutes like he can’t resist the temptation of my exposed skin. It’s like we are circling one another in a primitive dance. The occasional contact of our skin, the feel of his muscles bunching beneath my fingers, it’s all a heady drug. Way more so than the beer that I abandoned some time ago.
Reality bursts our bubble when someone runs into me again, and I fall forward into Silas. But he’s right, he’s there to catch me. His arms crush around me, and I might have trouble inhaling if I attempted to take a breath. Our bodies are connected from chest to thigh, and the friction of being pressed against one another ignites a roaring flame of need between us.
“Bridget,” Silas breathes out before he bends to kiss me. Apparently, I’m too short, because he growls, the sound deep in his chest, sending desire rippling through every inch of me. His arms tighten fractionally, but only because he’s already holding me so tightly, and he picks me up like I’m nothing more than a feather. Instinctually my legs wrap around his waist as his hand cups my ass to keep me pressed firmly to his body. He stares down at me for no longer than a heartbeat, desire and longing flaring bright in his eyes before he closes the distance and kisses me.
The world ceases to exist. Time stops, and stars are born in an explosion of color and fire. It doesn’t matter that we’re in the middle of the crowd. All that matters is that his arms are around me, all but squeezing the life out of me as he pulls me against his body. Despite how exposed we are, I’ve never felt more secure, more important, or more wanted than in that moment.
Silas bumps us through the crowd, people automatically making way for his large, imposing frame. I don’t feel any of it because his arms are a buffer against anyone who may have run into us. There are some hoots and whistles, but I don’t give a damn. My only thought is staggering happiness that I’m kissing the man I’ve fantasized about for the past year. The man I pretended to ignore when he started coming into the store each week because I was embarrassed and afraid that I might blurt out my feelings without meaning to. It hadn’t taken long for me to give up that charade because I was helpless to resist him. Instead, I welcomed him with my warmest, happiest smile, uncaring if it made me totally transparent. Now that I’m tangled around him, I can acknowledge that it was absolutely worth the wait.
I’m probably still a little drunk, even though I haven’t had anything to drink in at least two hours while we talked about everything and nothing. The same can’t be said for the rest of the crowd. Silas quickly moves us away from their rowdy cheers and down the first dark alley he can find. There, in the small space between two old brick buildings with some overgrown grass and chunky, cracked pavement, he presses me up against the side of the building. He breaks his kiss as his body bears down onto mine, holding me up with one hand as he looks at me with a trace of a smile gracing his mouth. He lifts a hand to cup my cheek before ghosting the tips of his fingers down my jaw. He captures a lock of my hair, gently caressing it between his fingers. It’s surprisingly sweet and intimate, making my heart somersault wildly in my chest.
Silas’s other hand firmly holds my ass, squeezing as he rolls his hips against the aching cradle of my thighs in a nearly desperate rhythm. We’re such a dichotomy of soft and hard. He’s huge, but I want to feel the weight of him. I want him to dominate my body like he’s dominated my thoughts all these months.
“More, please,” I gasp, only breaking our kiss to tell him what I need, not because I want to end the contact. I want to get lost in his kiss forever. Each brush of his lips, every touch of his tongue is like a drug, spiraling me into a dazed fog of pleasure so intense it can’t be natural. I sure as hell have never felt anything like this.
In a feat of strength and magical hands, Silas untangles his fingers from my hair. The clink of his belt as he quickly unclasps it rings through the air, followed by the sharp hum of his zipper. Then, before I can think about anything else, he’s shoving my panties aside and slamming into me. Both of us still, quiet in the eye of the storm, as everything trembles and shakes around us, except for the sounds of our harried breathing. Silas is breathing hard, and my own chest is rising and falling quickly, but mostly constricted by the huge body against mine.
Everything about him is big, and I’m definitely not used to someone his size, but this last year with Silas has essentially been foreplay. I’m so ready for him that the evidence of my desire is spread over my thighs.
Mossy green eyes gaze down at me like he’s seeing a mythical creature. His forehead touches mine as he closes his eyes and inhales deeply like he’s trying to keep himself from losing control, but I don’t want him in control. I want him wild and unhinged, the same way I feel.
I find his lips again, and he growls into my mouth, “You feel so fucking amazing.”
There's a rumble that starts low in his chest like there’s an animal trying to get loose. A fierce sound reverberates and tumbles from Silas’s throat as he starts to fuck me almost frantically against the wall. My hair is snagging against the rough bricks, and it’s scraping my back, but I don’t give a crap. Being surrounded by his warmth, with the feel of his skin beneath my hands as I stroke and touch every inch I can reach, is electrifying.
I slide his shirt up so I can grip at his back and sides, and all I can do is feel. A cry is ripped from my chest when Silas hits a spot so deep inside me that I’m practically vibrating from how good it feels. He grinds against me, and I lose it. I feel feverish, near crazed, as I writhe against him as much as my position allows, which isn't much. I have this bone-deep need to be as close to him as possible, to hold him as tightly as my arms can manage. My hands thread through his hair, and I pull at it, making him growl even louder as his thrusts become erratic and mindless. Neither one of us is being very quiet, despite the huge crowd of people who are just down the block.
“Fuck, I’m so close.” He rips his mouth away, breathing heavily as he kisses and sucks on my neck.
Reaching a hand down between us, he grabs the panties he’d pushed aside earlier and rips them away, making me gasp. Why did I just find that stinging bite of pain so damn hot? Everything about him is like a raging fire, and I think my entire body is going to burst into flames. His thumb finds my clit and rubs in perfect little circles until I’m shaking and making noises that I should probably be embarrassed about, but I really don’t have it in me to care.
Silas surges deep inside me just as he brushes against my clit in a perfectly timed combination, and I fall apart. That perfect movement has me coming around him so hard I cry out his name like it’s an exaltation. With a roar that proves Silas has forgotten our location as well, he drives once more into the deepest part of me, stilling as he shudders and pulses within me.
It only takes him a moment to recover, and before I can blink, he’s pulling o
ut of me with a suddenness that has me crying out in surprise. My feet hit the ground, and I struggle to stand on my wobbly legs. He tucks his still semi-hard dick away and fixes his clothes. Turning away from me, he walks back down the alley without even saying goodbye. Leaving me with my skirt rucked up and my torn underwear dangling around my ankle. And the proof of what just happened running down my leg.
It feels like I’ve been doused with a bucket of cold water, and my stomach lurches as uneasiness rolls over me. I watch Silas leaving me like he’s already forgotten what just happened between us, shock freezing me to the spot. What the hell just happened?
Chapter Two
Silas
My wolf has been agitated lately. So much that I’ve had to run him every night for the last few months. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before, but usually it’s when something is stressing me out or making me feel anxious. Issues with the pack or troubles with one of my wolves for example. As Alpha, it takes a lot to get me worked up because I need to maintain control for the good of our pack. A volatile leader doesn’t make for a good Alpha. My wolves feel safe in our pack because they know they can come to me with any situation. They don’t have to worry about retribution or punishment for bringing something to my attention. I know from experience that not all packs are like that.
But lately, something is keeping my wolf in a constant state of agitation. And so here I am again, out on a run with the waning moon high in the sky. The sliver of silvery moonlight falls on my back, covering me like a calming blanket. And I need soothing. From whatever phantom problem it is that has me so riled.
I’m not surprised when I slow from my run and see that I’ve come, once again, to the home of the auburn-haired baker. Even when I try to run in a different direction, my wolf always brings us back here. Most of the time, I’m so distracted that I don’t realize we’re there until I’m standing beneath the tree in her front yard. Every time, I have this longing that nearly shreds my soul when I stare at the golden glow of light that spills from the house. There’s always an amazing smell, that emanates from inside, of baked breads and sweets. And my stomach predictably growls as I fight my wolf to stay still instead of trotting up her front steps like I want to.
