Chapter 618:

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He turned, his eyes dark and intense. In two long strides, he closed the space, backing me against the cool marble wall of the foyer. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of my head, caging me in completely.

“We were interrupted in Chicago,” he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble.

He lowered his head and kissed me.

This time it was different. It wasn’t the angry, punishing kiss from the hospital. It was deep, searching, and possessive, a kiss that spoke of a patience that had finally run out.

W𝗲 𝗎𝗽𝘥𝖺𝘁𝘦 𝗲𝘷𝗲𝗿𝗒 𝘸𝗲е𝗄 𝗼ո 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝗻o𝘷𝗲l𝘴.𝖼оm

My hands came up to his chest, intending to shove him away. But the protest died before it could begin. My fingers curled, gripping the fine wool of his suit jacket. My mind screamed at me to fight, but my body betrayed me.

I leaned into him, my lips parting under his pressure. He deepened the kiss, one hand sliding down the curve of my spine, pressing my hips firmly against his. A low groan rumbled in his chest.

Just as the kiss turned scorching hot, a sharp, insistent ringtone shattered the intimate atmosphere.

His phone, left on the console table by the door, was ringing.

Alistair broke the kiss, a sound of pure frustration escaping his lips. He rested his forehead against mine, his breathing ragged, before glaring at the phone.

“Don’t move,” he commanded huskily. He strode over and answered the emergency Senate call. I leaned against the wall, my legs weak, my lips tingling and swollen. I touched my mouth, completely dazed. I watched him pace, discussing an urgent legislative crisis. The transformation from passionate male to ruthless politician was jarring and strangely fascinating.

In that moment of reprieve, a terrifying truth slammed into my soul. I hadn’t disliked the kiss. In fact, a traitorous part of my Inner Wolf had been bitterly disappointed when the phone rang. Horrified by this realization, I fled down the hall to the guest suite, locking the door behind me.

An hour later, a soft knock sounded on the door. “Blake?”

I held my breath, feigning sleep.

I heard him sigh, a sound of weary resignation. “I’ve had Mrs. Gable move your things into the master suite. This is your home now, Blake. Stop hiding in the guest quarters.”

His footsteps retreated.

Much later, unable to sleep, I opened my door. The penthouse was dark. Driven by a pull I couldn’t explain, I crept down the hall to the master suite. The door was ajar.

Alistair was asleep in the massive bed. He was on his side, leaving more than half the mattress empty. In the dim light, he looked younger, the hard lines of his face softened.

I made a decision. I quietly entered the room and slipped into the far side of the bed.

Just as I settled, he stirred. He rolled over in his sleep, his movements slow and unconscious. His long arm slid around my waist, pulling me back against the solid warmth of his chest.

I froze, my breath caught in my throat. But his breathing remained deep and even. It was an instinctual, unconscious act. He just held me, not with demand, but with a simple, disarming need for closeness that shattered the last of my defenses.

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