Page 33 of Taming the White Wolf
“Shit.” He pushed away from the counter and reached down to adjust himself, trying to ease the strain on his dick. After several attempts, he gave up. Nothing short of making love to her would help.
Resigned to being uncomfortable for the foreseeable future, he opened the cupboard and took down two mugs. There was sugar, but no fresh milk. He wasn’t sure how she took her coffee. There was so much about her he didn’t know.
The soft scuff of feet on the stairs alerted him to her presence. Keeping his back to her, he busied himself filling the mugs. “There’s coffee and sugar but no milk.”
“As long as it’s hot and black and sweet, it works for me.”
Bracing for impact, he turned and set her mug down in front of her. Her hair was still tousled, like she’d done nothing but run her fingers through it. There was slightly more color in her face, but her smile was forced.
“There’s nothing to eat. I ordered food. Once we decide what we’re doing, I’ll get whatever else we need.”
“I have some cash—”
“I’ll take care of it.” No way was he taking money from her for food. Maybe it wasn’t modern thinking, but it pleased him on some basic level to provide for her.
She dumped two teaspoons of sugar into the dark brew and stirred vigorously, making the metal spoon clank against the ceramic mug. Her jaw tightened. “I can pay my share.”
He understood pride, but it was misplaced here. “You don’t know how long you’ll be on the run.”
She opened her mouth, likely to blast him, but slowly closed it. Her shoulders slumped and she fiddled with the rolled cuff of the shirt. “You’re right. There’s no point in being stubborn. Not about this.” Implying there were occasions in the future when she would be difficult.
Rather than worry him, it filled him with anticipation. She challenged him on every level, something he and his wolf both appreciated.
Picking up her mug, she took a sip and made a sound of pleasure that had his cock flexing. It was too reminiscent of the ones she’d made when they were kissing. “There’s nothing quite like the first cup of the day.” Taking it with her, she went to the table and slid onto one of the chairs. “What’s the plan?”
Damn, her courage continued to impress him. She likely thought she was hiding her fear, but it was there in the way her hands flexed around the mug, the whiteness of her knuckles, the tightness of her shoulders, the way she wouldn’t quite meet his gaze.
Ding-dong!
She jolted, her coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “That’s the delivery,” he told her. “Stay here.” Striding toward the front of the house, he paused long enough to glance through the tall, slender window alongside the door. There should be no way for anyone to have tracked them here, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
Chapter Twelve
Abandoning her coffee, Zoe searched for a weapon. It probably was the delivery person, but she wasn’t taking any chances, nor was she going to be caught empty-handed, not again. She considered and dismissed the knives before spotting a tall cabinet. Hoping to find something useful, she pulled it open. Perfect.
Broom in hand, she peeked around the corner of the kitchen. Her hands tightened around the wooden handle. It wasn’t exactly a baseball bat but close enough.
Devlin slipped a young man some money and took a couple large bags in return. Her arms and shoulder muscles unclenched, relief making her break out in a cold sweat.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw her. “You planning on sweeping or hitting me?”
“Neither. I want to be prepared.” Making a sound of disgust, she stalked back into the kitchen. Rather than tuck the makeshift weapon away, she leaned it against the wall.
“And you thought you’d what? Take down a potential attacker with a broom?”
“Bat, jagged piece of wood, broom. Whatever it takes.” She tried to act like it was no big deal, but she was trembling.
He set the bags on the table. “Why not a knife?”
“What?”
He pointed out the knife block on the counter. “Sharper than a broom.”
“I considered it, but I’ve never fought with one, and it has to be used at close range. There’s too much of a chance it could be used against me. A broom allows me to keep some distance.”
“It was a brave thing to do.”
She didn’t feel brave. “I’m shaking.” She held up her hands. He took a step toward her and stopped.He won’t come to me.Her reaction to him in the bedroom had made him wary. If she wanted comfort, she’d have to go to him. Screwing up her courage, she closed the distance and slid her arms around his waist, sighing when his brawny arms wrapped her in warmth.
