Page 18

He shook his head. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he looked like a guy who thought he was about to get fired.

Of course he did. I was his superior—okay, only on paper and only at Crescent, but still. What CEO wouldn’t at least consider getting rid of the guy he’d inadvertently banged, if only to avoid drama and distraction?

The answer was... this kind of CEO. A werewolf one. Blurred lines were kind of a thing when animal instinct warred with modern ethics for supremacy in the same brain.

With a sigh, I scratched the back of my neck. This was... not my favorite thing in the world to do, but who liked apologizing? Maybe alphas least of all, but we were the ones who most needed to take accountability when we fucked up. I’d seen firsthand what happened when we weren’t able to, and I’d sworn to myself that I was never going to be like that, even before we left Idaho.

“I’m genuinely sorry for the way I acted toward you this morning. I haven’t been at my best—honestly? In a while. Last night, Jillian suggested I go out and blow off some steam, because I’ve been twisted up about this meeting with Igarashi. And I guess I just had a hard time believing you’d shown up at Howl on your own, that you’d go home with me, trust me with—” I looked significantly at him. I didn’t want tosayit was wrong for him to have an Awakening with a werewolf; he’d get enough of that from his own people, and really, I’d been honored. And sure, confused.

At least Dakota was no longer looking at me like I was about to toss him out on his ass. Instead, his brow was furrowed, his lips were twisted up in a frown. Were his lips always so luscious, or were they slightly bruised?

This wasnotthe moment to think about kissing him, but my eyes dropped to his mouth and my thoughts drifted.

I shook myself out of it when color returned to his cheeks.

“Sorry—you’re surprised I went home with you?” Dakota gave me an incredulous once-over that practically had me wagging my tail.

“A little,” I admitted with a grimace.

“Uhhuh.”

“Yeah, so point is, I’d already been anxious about this meeting for a while, and seeing you this morning, in this context, triggered a lot of my own insecurities that have nothing whatsoever to do with you. It wasn’t fair for me to heap them on you like that. I was wrong. I hope that we can move past it, and I’d love for you to?—”

Stay? In the office?

Strangely enough, yes. Just being able to keep an eye on him satisfied the wolfish part of my brain that already said he was mine. Didn’t matter that he couldn’t be; I’d take what I could get.

“If you stay, I won’t?—”

Dakota pushed out of his chair and walked around the far side of his desk. I stared as he went for his door, and I half expected him to tell me to get the fuck out, so I had only seconds to make my case.

“I won’t make the same mistake twice,” I promised, just as he pushed the door. It shut with a click.

When he turned toward me, he was biting his lip. He took a halting step my way.

“I really am sorry.” Now that he was closer, I was practically whispering.

He looked up at me for a second, and I couldn’t tell if it was frustration or amusement that sparkled in his brown eyes until he?—

He pushed himself up on the balls of his feet, dragged me down by my collar, and kissed me.

7

Dakota

How was apologizing hot?

Maybe it was just that no one had ever seriously apologized to me before. Oh sure, everyone gets that everyday “oops, sorry” when someone bumps into them, but no one I’d ever been close to had apologized to me. Not my parents or Donnie or... well, it wasn’t as though I’d had any other friends or family, not really.

And here was this gorgeous, perfect, intelligent man telling me he had been wrong, and he was sorry. An alpha male, as his sister and Maia had called it. I didn’t really like the term, since every guy I’d ever known who’d called himself an alpha male had mostly just been a jerk, but somehow Jax wasn’t that. Alpha seemed to mean something different here, to these people, than I was used to.

Jax was most concerned about taking care of his people. That was why he’d accepted the Igarashi employees being complete fucking assholes to him. Because he wanted to take care of his own people, to make the merger happen and make the company as successful as he could. He’d been as insulted as anyone else at the table when I’d explained what had happened—I’d seen the momentary flash of rage in his eyes. But he’d swallowed it down and made the decision he’d thought was best for his business, rather than for his pride.

I disagreed with him, yes, but it was still an admirable position.

And now, there he was in my office apologizing to me, admitting that he’d been wrong when he’d assumed the worst of me.

If he got any more perfect, I’d be convinced he was a figment of my imagination.