Xavier bided his time. Laurel had been polite but distant over dinner and drinks and then all through the
drive home. He had a hunch about the reason too. She’d gone white as a sheet at the sight of the kid in
the glasses at Mack’s. She’d torn out in a panic, and he’d almost followed, but he knew her better than
to barge into her problems. It would have only backfired on him. So he’d stayed behind and turned his
animal hearing up to full volume, listening in from a safe distance instead.
Her co-worker hadn’t been overly friendly or accepting of her company, and Laurel was worried. He
hadn’t been surprised at that. Or the way she’d tried going all alpha to cover up her fear. He knew now
that was what she did.
At the table on the deck, none of the crew said a word about it which let him know they’d heard it too.
Fuck, his woman was complicated. And bossy. And too damn proud to admit when she was coming at
a problem wrong.
At the Lodge, he let her go up to her room without a fight. He went to his, just down the hall, and waited
for her to come to him, but she never did. The evening turned to midnight and still, Laurel didn’t come
to him. He should have guessed she wouldn’t, but it still stung after everything they’d shared.
By one in the morning, he’d tossed and turned enough. He couldn’t take this shit anymore. He threw
the covers back and padded to her room, flinging the door open without bothering to knock or tread
softly. He stood over her sleeping form, his anger dissipating at the sight of her all tucked into the
downy comforter, hands curled under her chin.
God, she looked so helpless.
His bear took one look at her and wanted only to protect.
He hesitated in waking her, warring with himself over why he was pushing her so hard in the first place.
He was just as scared as she was about what it would mean to claim each other. A mate. He’d been
running from that idea for ten years now. He couldn’t be that guy again. The one who shrugged off his
duties for sex or love or whatever the fuck.
Laurel stirred, and Xavier felt all of his reservations crumble. He eased in beside her, careful to not
jostle her too much and wake her. She sighed as he pulled her gently against him, tucking her close.
“Mmm,” she mumbled, cuddling against his bare chest. The ends of her hair tickled but he didn’t mind.
He ran his hands over her hip, relishing the silky fabric of her nightie against his fingers. Of course, she
had sexy pajamas. All the best things about her were hidden away from everyone else, and for the first
time, he wasn’t going to complain about that.
He ran his hand along her hipbone and down her thigh, and Laurel sighed. “This is either the best
dream I’ve ever had, or the creepiest cop-a-feel anyone’s ever given me,” she said lazily. There was
teasing in her words, and again, Xavier shoved his earlier temper aside in favor of playfulness.
“How about we call it something in between,” he said, nipping her earlobe.
Laurel squeaked, and he laughed until she moved against him, rolling her hips forward. His laughter
died, and he tightened his grip on her, dragging her in and pressing them together.
“You want the sex of your dreams, come and get it, Mrs. Alpha,” he said.
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