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“Do you mind?” Fey asked, smiling, holding her arms out to her sides. She was wearing one of his white dress shirts, and though it was long enough to reach her mid-thigh and baggy enough to leave everything to the imagination, she’d only bothered to button two of the buttons, at her stomach. The crisp line of the shirt front only seemed to accentuate how little fabric separated her body from his view. “My clothes need to be washed, and I didn’t have anything else to wear, so I raided your closet.”

Mind? No, he didn’t fucking mind. He never wanted her to wear anything else again, not with how mouthwateringly good she looked in his shirt. And something about knowing it was his, knowing that she was wearing his clothing…

“Alastair,” Fey purred in that luscious voice of hers. “You’re dropping my dinner.”

The plate he was holding tipped dangerously in his grip, and he hadn’t noticed the slice of pizza slide off and drop onto the floor.

“Fuck,” snapped Alastair, looking down. He snatched the slice from the ground and retreated into the kitchen to grab fresh pizza for her and something to clean up the mess.

When he emerged again, a plate full of four new slices in hand, Fey was curled up in the corner of the couch, her legs tucked underneath her.

She looked divine, sitting there. Alastair wanted nothing more than to drop the food he was carrying and pin those long legs open, wanted nothing more than to hear her say his name as he used his tongue and fingers to make her forget everything but him.

Instead, he clenched his teeth together, ignoring his throbbing cock. He could wait. Goddess grant him the strength to wait.

“Did you really leave to get us pizza?” she asked as she took the plate of food he offered her. He hadn’t grabbed any pizza for himself—just a glass of wine.

Alastair shook his head, settling himself on the couch. He wanted to sit next to her, wanted to touch her, feel that perfect skin under his fingers, but he gave her a few feet of space. “No. I messaged Jasper to pick it up for us and bring it over. I didn’t want to leave you here, alone.”

Fey rolled her eyes. “You didn’t want to leave me here, all alone and defenseless, huh? My savior,” she said sarcastically. “So…you messaged your bartender to bring us pizza?”

She was already on her second slice, and Alastair couldn’t help but smile at her while she devoured it.

“He’s more like…” He waved his hand, searching for the word. “More like a friend, I guess. Though, fucks me how that happened. He’s like that with everyone, sneaks into your heart somehow.”

“Do you trust him?” Fey asked, nibbling a piece of crust.

Alastair laughed in response. “Trust him? I trust him not to tell anyone you’re here, if that’s what you’re asking. But otherwise?” He snorted. “No, I don’t fucking trust him. That fucker had the gall to ask me if I’d mind if he joined you in the shower.”

Fey laughed, taking another bite.

“Oh? And why didn’t you let him in?” she teased, wriggling in her seat. “Maybe I would have liked the company?”

Alastair’s teeth clenched together, and he took a deep swallow from his glass to keep his jealousy in check. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him for even suggesting it, the weaselly fucking bastard.”

“Weasel, huh?” Fey laughed. “I thought he was a Wolf.”

“He is. Massive fucking thing, too. Bigger than Ferus, if you’d believe it.”

“Mmm,” she purred. “Maybe you should have sent him in to join me then.”

“Why? Are you feeling lonely, Witchling?”

She shrugged, taking another bit of pizza and moaning at the taste. Alastair licked his lips, watching her, his eyes traveling up her bare legs.

“I could call him back if you are,” Alastair said. “If Wolf is your taste.”

“And where would you go?” she goaded him.

“Who says I would go anywhere? My bed is more than big enough for three.” His eyes glittered dangerously as they moved from her body to capture her stare. If she could play this game, well, so could he. “Would you like that, Witchling?” he asked her, huskily, shifting closer to her. “Would you like to have two males worshipping you?”

Her breath hitched, and he smiled. She was so fucking beautiful when she blushed. So beautiful when she wasn’t in charge.

“Is that… something you’ve done before?” she asked. So casual, too casual. The pink in her cheeks and the jump in her heart rate was giving her away, though. Naughty girl.

“Oh yes,” he answered honestly, trying not to smile at her look of shock. “Two men, two women. I’ve been around a long time, Witchling; you might be surprised at the things I’ve done.”

Moving his wine glass to his other hand, he reached over, running a finger up her thigh and toying with the hem of the dress shirt she wore.