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Chapter 14

Dina

B y the time I get to Doug’s apartment, I’m a bundle of nerves wrapped in breathable cotton and sass.

The wrap dress I chose hugs my curves just right, dipping low enough to be flirty but not obscene, cinching at my waist like the designer knew just how to highlight women built like me in all our plus size glory.

I even wore sandals with wedge heels.

Yup. Heels .

Not my usual comfy flats or sneaks.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

I haven’t felt this giddy about a date in, well, ever , actually.

So when Doug opens the door, looking very much like temptation itself in a pair of blue jeans that mold to his thick thighs and a dark tee that fits him entirely too well, all broad shoulders and easy smirk, I nearly melt on the spot.

But before I can say anything, I glance past him into his place and frown.

“Wait. I thought you were having wasp issues?” I ask, arching a brow as I step inside.

Doug rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, closing the door behind me.

“Yeah, uh, got them gone before inviting you over.”

He flashes a grin that is equal parts smug and boy caught cheating at poker .

“I know people,” he adds with a wink.

I laugh softly, because of course he does.

Doug is the type to handle his supernatural hornet infestation and still have time to text me silly memes before cooking a full meal apparently, if the scents permeating in the air are anything to go by.

His attic apartment is warm and surprisingly homey. Masculine, sure, I mean, it’s all wrought iron, dark stained wood, and leather.

But it’s unmistakably clean and uncluttered.

Spacious, really, especially for the city.

There’s a vase on the table. It’s tiny but pretty, filled with half a dozen white carnations.

“I love carnations! Totally underrated flower,” I tell him, and he answers with a dip of his chin.

Sexy, sweet man.

The faint scent of something delicious wafts from the kitchen.

“So, did you cook for me?” I ask, genuinely surprised, and secretly thrilled as I slide the light shawl I have around my shoulders off and drape it over the back of his couch.

Doug shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts on his heels like a nervous schoolboy.

“I mean, yeah. I figured I’d take you out, but then I thought why not cook instead? More private. Less chance of me running into vengeful ex-clients or, you know, swarms of insects.”

He pauses, glancing at the neatly set table.

“But now that I’m saying it out loud, it probably sounds lame. You probably wanted something fancier.”

I blink at him, then shake my head firmly.

“No. This is perfect , Doug.”

His shoulders relax a little, and when he guides me over to the small, tastefully decorated dining table, I feel this rush of affection for him.

He clearly tried.

And honestly?

The spread is honestly impressive.

Cheese, crackers, pickled veggies, and tomato bruschetta on toasted French bread slices sit perfectly arranged on the table like he’s trying to win Date Night Olympics .

“This is great,” I say, smiling as I grab a little of everything.

I eat, because obviously I do. Besides, the food is really good.

But I can’t help noticing Doug watching me. Intently.

Like weirdly intently.

Like he’s memorizing the way I chew.

I pause, raising a brow.

“Uh, do I have something in my teeth or what?”

Doug blinks like I snapped him out of a trance.

“What? No. No, you’re good.”

Then he grins, boyish and a little flustered.

“You’ve just got the best mouth, Dina.”

I choke a little, laughing.

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” he says, already sounding like he regrets how fast that came out. He clears his throat. “Um, are you ready for the main course?”

I nod, still laughing softly as he flashes me a crooked smile.

It’s the kind of grin that pretty much ruins me for every other man on Earth.

He rises from his chair effortlessly, moving with this casual, predatory grace that has no business being that sexy.

And okay, yes, I absolutely look at his ass while he walks away.

I’m human. Sue me.

“Here ya go, Sunshine,” he says, returning and placing a fully loaded plate in front of me like he’s delivering treasure.

Perfectly seared steak.

Herb roasted potatoes.

A side of steamed green beans that somehow don’t look sad or obligatory.

I stare at the plate, jaw dropping.

“This is—wow! Oh my God, Doug! You’re secretly a chef or something?”

He snorts, shaking his head like I’m crazy.

“Who, me? Nah. My landlady's a Kitchen Witch. She taught me a few things so I wouldn’t starve or poison myself.”

“Well, can she teach me? Because I’m like seriously impressed,” I say, completely serious as I dig in.

Every bite is perfect. The kind of perfect that makes you hum without meaning to.

I glance up and Doug is watching again, but this time with a smug little smile, clearly pleased.

His eyes flash gold and my insides tremble.

He is so damn sexy, I drop my fork. Doug shakes his head and tsks.

“Eat your dinner like a good girl, Baby. Or you don’t get any dessert.”

I almost choke on the potato in my mouth.

Dirty. Hot.

I think he’s talking about sex, only he dips his head in the direction of the kitchen counter, and I glance that way.

He isn’t lying about dessert.

Right on the polished surface, I spy a small, decadent chocolate cake, practically glowing under the lights like the crown jewel of date night.

I lean back, already full but so, so ready for dessert.

“Doug,” I say, shaking my head and grinning. “You’re making the rest of the male population look really bad right now.”

He winks, lifting his fork with the last bite of his steak to my mouth.

“Good. That’s the plan. Try the rare,” he says.

I do, and I moan as the perfectly seasoned, tender meat hits my palette.

“Mmm,” I swallow. “Color me impressed, Wolfman. Didn’t know you could chef it up like this.”

Doug smirks as he refills my wineglass, just like the perfect gentleman.

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises. Also, YouTube exists for a reason, Sunshine.”

We both laugh as we finish our meal and clean up, and holy hell— the food is good .

Like, really good.

He puts on a pot of coffee, and we flirt the whole time.

All the tension I’ve been feeling smooths away into something easy and playful.

We talk about everything.

My art classes.

Some of his PI disasters.

“You did not find the Polar Bear Alpha wearing a pink tutu and sitting in the corner because his mistress put him in time out!”

“I one hundred percent did, and it took me months to get the image out of my head, believe me.”

I laugh so hard, I snort.

We swap more embarrassing stories.

I admit I had, once upon a time , accidentally used white paint instead of sour cream on a baked potato during an all-nighter.

He confesses he once growled at a teacher in a normal-run school because he’d caught fleas the night before when running in his fur and was so damn cranky after being up all night.

I’m laughing so hard by the time we start to pour the coffee and eat our dessert, my sides hurt.

But when Doug cuts us both thick slices of chocolate cake and carries them over to the couch, the mood shifts just slightly.

Because now we’re sitting closer.

His thigh is right against mine.

And as I take my first bite, humming appreciatively, Doug watches me with heat in his eyes.

“Good?” he asks, voice low and rougher than before.

“Good?” I echo, licking a bit of frosting off my fork.

“In fact, Doug, this is positively sinful. You may have just unlocked my ultimate weakness.”

Doug chuckles, and before I can process what’s happening, he leans in, swiping his thumb at the corner of my mouth.

“You missed a spot,” he murmurs.

My breath catches as his thumb lingers, his eyes darkening with intent.

“You know,” I say slowly, pulse skittering, “if you’re going to steal cake from my face, the least you could do is make it worth my while.”

Doug’s lips curve wickedly.

“Yeah? What would make it worth it, Sunshine?”

Before I can answer, he leans in fully and kisses me.

Soft at first. Testing.

But when I kiss him back— hungry, needy, ready —he groans and deepens it instantly.

His tongue slides against mine, tasting of chocolate and something that is just pure Doug.

Masculine. Heady. Hot.

His hands find my hips, gripping tightly as he tugs me closer, pulling me practically into his lap.

The kiss turns messy fast, our laughter melting into soft moans and frantic little gasps as the need flares hotter.

“Fuck, Dina,” Doug growls against my lips, kissing me again and again. “Been wanting to do this since the second you walked in wearing this damn dress.”

I shiver, my fingers sliding into his hair as he goes for the ties to my dress, unwrapping me like I’m a present.

“Fuck. Just look at you, Baby.”

I moan and kiss him harder.

“Glad you like it. I wore it for you.”

He breaks the kiss just long enough to pull the dress off my shoulders, and I help him, reaching for his shirt next.

Dear. God.

The man has more muscles than I can count, and I know my mouth is hanging open.

Doug grips the back of my neck with his hand and forces my gaze to his. He looks at me, eyes glowing like molten gold.

“I’m going to ruin you for every other guy,” he says, voice filled with both teasing promise and serious, raw hunger.

“Those are big words, Fido.”

My entire body tightens at the implication.

“Big talk, Wolf,” I breathe, running my nails lightly down his chest.

“Not talk, Sunshine.” His lips curl into a feral smile.

“Promise.”

Before I can even sass him back, he’s kissing me again, pressing me down into the couch cushions as our coffee and cake sit forgotten on the small table behind me, cooling off while we heat up.

And for the first time in a long time?

I don’t care about anything else.

Not my doubts.

Not tomorrow.

Just Doug.

Just this.

And the way his body fits perfectly against mine like he was always meant to be here.