Page 44
Story: Knot That Difficult
I met April once before at a gala. I remember she was flustered trying to handle Donovan Axton, the grumpiest man I’ve ever met.
Apparently they’re packmates now, so it worked out.
“They taught me how to bake,” she continues. “They taught me everything, honestly. I didn’t have many skills before I met them.”
I furrow my brow. I’m not liking the way she talks about herself.
Apologizing for her personality? Not giving herself credit for what she accomplishes?
“I doubt that,” I counter. “It’s obvious you’re a fast learner.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You memorize little details of things that most people don’t. You gave me thehistoryof candles earlier,” I remind her.
She barks out a laugh, loud enough that the table near us glances at her.
I love it.
“You mean I info-dumped on you?”
I shrug. “Sure. But you’reexcitedabout it, and that’s what makes it interesting. You’re so passionate it makesmewant to be interested in it, too.”
Her grin is breathtaking. The sparkle is back in her eyes, and all is right in the world again.
“Most people aren’t that excited about anything in their lives, ever. And suddenly I give a shit about candles.”
“No, you don’t.” She giggles. “Name the different kinds of wax, then.”
“Paraffin, soy, beeswax, and coconut.”
Her jaw drops. “You were listening!”
“Your joy is infectious, sweetheart. I mean it.”
The nickname slips out before I can stop myself. Her beautiful face turns pink, and a rush of sweetness hits me.
It’s the scent of her arousal.
Don’t fuck this up.
“Sweetheart is my favorite pet name,” she murmurs, her pupils widening.
“Then I’ll have to call you that more, sweetheart.”
She swallows, her delicate throat bobbing.
“Any other names you’d like me to call you?” I continue, eyeing her carefully. “Baby, princess…anything else?”
She shifts in her seat and clears her throat. “Those work,” she says quietly.
I’m rock hard in the restaurant.
I’m tempted to give the waiter my card now and whisk her out of here, but dessert is next, and I’m not going to make her skip out on the vanilla custard that made her eyes go wide when she read it on the menu.
“Then I’m happy to call you all of those, baby.”
She’s visibly flustered. She toys with a lock of her hair, twirling her curls in her fingers while she blushes.
Apparently they’re packmates now, so it worked out.
“They taught me how to bake,” she continues. “They taught me everything, honestly. I didn’t have many skills before I met them.”
I furrow my brow. I’m not liking the way she talks about herself.
Apologizing for her personality? Not giving herself credit for what she accomplishes?
“I doubt that,” I counter. “It’s obvious you’re a fast learner.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You memorize little details of things that most people don’t. You gave me thehistoryof candles earlier,” I remind her.
She barks out a laugh, loud enough that the table near us glances at her.
I love it.
“You mean I info-dumped on you?”
I shrug. “Sure. But you’reexcitedabout it, and that’s what makes it interesting. You’re so passionate it makesmewant to be interested in it, too.”
Her grin is breathtaking. The sparkle is back in her eyes, and all is right in the world again.
“Most people aren’t that excited about anything in their lives, ever. And suddenly I give a shit about candles.”
“No, you don’t.” She giggles. “Name the different kinds of wax, then.”
“Paraffin, soy, beeswax, and coconut.”
Her jaw drops. “You were listening!”
“Your joy is infectious, sweetheart. I mean it.”
The nickname slips out before I can stop myself. Her beautiful face turns pink, and a rush of sweetness hits me.
It’s the scent of her arousal.
Don’t fuck this up.
“Sweetheart is my favorite pet name,” she murmurs, her pupils widening.
“Then I’ll have to call you that more, sweetheart.”
She swallows, her delicate throat bobbing.
“Any other names you’d like me to call you?” I continue, eyeing her carefully. “Baby, princess…anything else?”
She shifts in her seat and clears her throat. “Those work,” she says quietly.
I’m rock hard in the restaurant.
I’m tempted to give the waiter my card now and whisk her out of here, but dessert is next, and I’m not going to make her skip out on the vanilla custard that made her eyes go wide when she read it on the menu.
“Then I’m happy to call you all of those, baby.”
She’s visibly flustered. She toys with a lock of her hair, twirling her curls in her fingers while she blushes.
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