Page 43 of Wolf

I smile a little. Leah’s becoming something of a friend at this point. When Wolf asked if I wanted to meet up and I said yes, I then immediately thought to text her to ask if she could help.

Someone moves in my peripheral vision. I jerk my head up. Not Steel, but a muscular, tatted-up guy who looks like he could eat every single one of those hundred burgers Steel has grilling.

The guy looks me up and down, and smirks. I couldn’t help dressing up a little for this maybe-a-date. My white skirt falls to just below my knees, leaving my shapely calves on display. My loose and flowy gingham-patterned top dips low at the chest to show a little bit of cleavage.

What’s a possible date without a little cleavage showing?

I probably shouldn’t have dressed like this. I’m not entirely sure still how I feel about Wolf and what he wants from me, but a twisted part of me can’t help trying to get his attention. I can’t help that I want him to look at me in a certain way.

Dressing like this also has other people looking at me in a certain way, which I know for sure I don’t want.

The guy suddenly looks away and walks on. I watch him go, frowning a little at the sudden change.

A hot presence at my back has me turning around.

Wolf stands there, arms folded. Under his leather vest, he wears a fitted black t-shirt that hugs every single muscle. His shoulders stretch the material, straining the seams.

It’s no wonder the other guy backed off.

My stomach clenches and my heart begins pounding. I stand up and look him up and down, aware that I’m ogling him like that guy just ogled me and unable to help it. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Wolf says, and sets his big hand on my shoulder. “You look good. Like a sexy picnic blanket.”

Pleasure turns to confusion, and then I remember what I’m wearing. I laugh out loud and hold up my hands. “No more gingham, got it.”

“No, I like it. Except…” He leans to me and speaks low in my ear. “Except I don’t want to sit on you. I want you to sit on me, baby.”

My pussy clenches that time. My cheeks burn and I duck my head. “Wolf, please,” I whisper.

“Please what?” he growls.

“Please… behave,” I manage.

He chuckles and rubs his lips over my cheek, his beard rasping my skin. “Can’t promise that, babe. Let’s go inside.”

He shifts away. I get a good look at his rear in his dark blue jeans while he goes to hold the door open for me. I like what I see. Most of the tables and booths are filled up already. The waitress takes us to one that hasn’t been cleared yet and quickly preps it so we can sit down. Wolf really has to wedge himself in between the table and booth.

I pick up the menu, to hold it rather than use it for its intended purpose. It feels good to have a prop to occupy my hands. “Can I ask why you wanted to have dinner with me?”

“Aside from the obvious?” Wolf asks. “Or do you want to hear the obvious reasons, too? Some of them might not be polite to say out loud in public.”

My squeezing fingers dimple the surface of the menu. “I told you to behave.”

“I am. I didn’t say those reasons.” He smirks. “All I did was tell you that I couldn’t tell you.”

I pull in a breath and let it out. “Fine. I’ll play along. Why did you want to have dinner, aside from the obvious reasons?”

“Malcolm ain’t gonna let this go,” he says. “Catching one person who was watching you doesn’t mean he’ll give up. There’s probably someone else already keeping tabs on you.”

A shiver goes down my spine and I hug myself.

“That’s why I had to do something to get you to leave your house. It will look like you aren’t afraid.”

“But I am.”

“But they don’t need to know that.”

We order our drinks and an appetizer, garlic bread bruschetta. Wolf fiddles with his straw wrapper, like he did at the diner. This time, I notice what he does with it. He flattens the length, then loops it around and folds it back in on itself many times to create a pentagon. By pushing in on the edges of the flat pentagon, the shape puffs up and becomes distinct. He tosses the star down on the table and reaches for my straw wrapper.