Page 45 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)

Ares

There’s a trick to knotting a bowtie one-handed while checking your voicemail and chugging whiskey. The trick is: you can’t .

I’ve been standing in front of the mirror in the hall for a while now, tie in one fist, glass in the other, my phone wedged against my ear.

I’m only half paying attention to the message from one of Alpha Gage’s henchmen about our ride to the gala tonight, mostly focused on the impossible task of figuring out this bowtie and the sound of Miley’s bare feet pacing in the bedroom.

She’s been getting ready for the gala all afternoon, shooing me away any time I enter the room to check on her.

I got a glimpse of her hunched in front of the vanity in a towel, then digging through her makeup bag like it was a bomb about to go off.

I’ve heard the clatter of her hot tools, a few annoyed sighs, and plenty of muffled curses.

Now she’s gone silent, though– which is never a good sign.

I’m not sure what’s taking so long since our wardrobe for tonight was chosen and delivered to our door, courtesy of her dear ol’ dad.

The suit fits me like a glove– midnight blue, thin lapels, white shirt starched and crisp.

I slicked back my hair in a misguided effort to look like a criminal in a Bond movie, but I kinda love it.

The only complaint I have is this damn bowtie and the fact that my date hasn’t let me near her for hours.

I lower my phone from my ear as the voicemail comes to an end, sliding it into my pocket with the stupid bowtie and taking a pull from my glass. The whiskey burns on the way down as I strain my ears to listen for signs of life from Miley, but there’s still nothing.

So, I finish off my drink, drop the empty glass on the kitchen peninsula, and head into the bedroom to investigate.

The door’s slightly ajar, and when I push it open, I find her standing in front of the full-length mirror wearing the dress she swore she’d never put on.

It’s dark blue, slinky, sheer in all the right places and none of the wrong ones…

not her typical style, but she still looks exquisite.

Though from the way she’s holding her arms tight around her ribs and glaring at her own reflection, she evidently disagrees.

Miley doesn’t notice me right away, so I just linger in the doorway watching her for a minute, letting her marinate in whatever self-destruction is on the menu tonight.

Eventually, she drags her hands down to her hips, fingertips sinking into the fabric as she lets out a sound halfway between a sigh and a growl.

“You almost ready, sweetheart?” I ask, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe.

She jumps, catching my eye in the mirror with a scowl. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people in the middle of a crisis,” she admonishes.

“It’s not sneaking if you left the door open,” I reply, pushing off the frame and striding in her direction. “You seem stressed, babe. You good?”

She rolls her eyes. “Do I look good ?”

“Honestly?” I cock my head, giving her a slow once-over in the mirror. “You look incredible.”

Miley huffs at her own reflection, clearly unimpressed. “Liar. I look hideous in this dress. It shows every lump, every bulge…”

“Don’t do that,” I growl, cutting her off.

She blinks. “Do what?”

“Rip yourself to pieces over some delusion that you’re not a knockout. You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Miley Beckett.”

She clucks her tongue, rolling her eyes again.

“You know I’d fuck you in a trash bag, right?” I remark, a smirk curving my lips.

“This may as well be one,” she grumbles bitterly.

“Don’t,” I say again, shaking my head as I step in closer. “Not tonight.” I place both hands on her hips, thumbs brushing over the space where bone melts to curve. “It’s our last one together for a while, so tonight, I want you to look at yourself through my eyes for a change, see what I see.”

Miley tries to wriggle away, but I hold her steady, hooking my chin over her shoulder and holding her gaze in the mirror. She glares back, hair neatly pinned, skin flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

I slowly run my hands up her sides, feeling a little shiver roll through her.

“These curves of yours drive me crazy,” I murmur in her ear, fingertips skating up the silky fabric of the gown.

“And this dress hugs every one of them in a way that feels like it’s designed to ruin me.

When I look at you in this, I don’t see a single fucking flaw, babe. I see an absolute work of art.”

She tuts under her breath, but her cheeks pinken with a blush, so I keep going. I slide one hand up, fingers grazing her ribs just under the edge of her breast.

“Look at how fucking sexy you are,” I growl, catching her eyes in the mirror and not letting go. “I’m gonna be the luckiest sonofabitch in the room tonight because you’re on my arm. And I’ll be making every other asshole jealous because they know you’re mine .”

Her breath catches, heart pounding faster beneath my fingertips.

“And if you hate the dress that much, then I’ll gladly rip it off you as soon as we get home,” I add, winking.

She snorts a laugh, some of the tension bleeding out of her posture. “You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot,” I chuckle, pressing my chest tighter to her back, the heat between us pulsing like a live wire. “And you look fucking edible in that dress, so stop stressing and let’s just go get this whole freakshow over with.”

She traps her lower lip between her teeth, glancing down, then back up. “You’re sure it looks okay?”

“Positive,” I reply, shifting my hips so she can feel the growing bulge in my pants against her backside as proof. “The way you look tonight should come with a warning label, baby.”

“Stop it,” she huffs.

“What, I can’t tell you you’re sexy?” I chuckle as I let my hands explore her lithe body, fingers tracing the line of her waist. “That I want you so much it drives me insane? ”

“ Ares ,” she grits out, squirming beneath my touch. Her hips arch, breath hitching as I splay a palm against her flat stomach.

“Look at yourself, see what I see,” I coax, watching her in the mirror. Her pupils are blown wide, lips slightly parted. I trail my nose up the curve of her neck, inhaling her addictive freesia and vanilla scent as I murmur against her skin.

“I see an incredible body in a dress that highlights all my favorite parts of it. Soft, flawless skin that feels way too good against mine. Eyes that see straight through people’s bullshit, a tongue that can cut someone down in three seconds flat.

And a face so gorgeous I’m tempted to start spouting cheesy poetry or some shit. ”

That last part makes her laugh– and not even a forced one. I grin as my hands travel up to cup her tits over the dress, thumbs rubbing circles around her nipples until they stiffen beneath the fabric.

“See what I mean?” I whisper. “Beautiful.”

She bites her lip harder, eyes locked on the mirror.

I drop my mouth down to her neck again, letting my teeth scrape against her skin. “Look,” I say again, voice low. “See how responsive your body is to my touch? You’re perfect for me, Miley.”

Her cheeks are flushed pink, breathing shallow, and she’s transfixed by her own reflection– by what I’m drawing out of her. It’s a heady feeling, seeing her slowly unravelling and not looking away.

The scent of her arousal spikes as I slide a hand down over her stomach, then lower.

There’s a slit in the fabric of her dress at the top of her right thigh, and I hook a hand underneath, fingertips meeting the softness of her skin.

She stares at the place where my hand disappeared behind the satin, lips parting in anticipation as I reach up to cup her through the fabric of her panties.

Her lips part on a small sound– half gasp, half whimper.

“Stay still for me, babe,” I murmur, mouth right against her ear. “And let me show you exactly how perfect you are.”

She’s trembling now, one hand white-knuckling the sleeve of my suit jacket.

I slip my fingers beneath the seam of her panties to find her already slick with desire, my inner wolf howling in satisfaction.

I lock eyes with her in the mirror, daring her to look away as I slide a finger inside, slow and deliberate.

She clenches around me, hips rolling forward, and I clamp my other arm tighter around her waist to hold her still .

“Watch,” I growl as I work my finger in and out, slow at first, then faster, thumb circling her clit. Her lips part, breaths coming hard and fast. Her violet-grey eyes are wide and glassy as she fights to keep looking in the mirror at herself– at us .

“You see that?” I croon, nipping the junction of her neck and shoulder while resisting the urge to claim her right here and now. “See how fucking perfect you are? Look how you blush for me all over.”

She pants harder, bracing herself against me.

“You wanna come?” I tease, curling my finger, thumb flicking just right. “Then say it. Say you’re perfect.”

She clenches her jaw in refusal, but I don’t let up. I add another finger, pumping in and out fast, the wet sound both obscene and beautiful. I bite back a groan as her tight pussy stretches around my digits, her whole body shuddering with pleasure.

She doesn’t get to come yet.

I slow down, fingers barely moving, drawing out the ache. “C’mon, you like when I say it. Now I want to hear it from you.”

She shakes her head, a rogue strand of hair falling out of the pins, breath coming out in ragged bursts.

I grin, patient and smug. “I’ve got all night, sweetheart.”

She tries to glare at me in the mirror, but the effect is ruined by the desperate, glassy look in her eyes. “You’re an asshole,” she gasps, rolling her hips.

I chuckle low in my throat, pressing my lips to her temple as I start pumping my fingers again. “Maybe, but I still wanna hear you say it.”

She bucks against my hand, a whine slipping free. “I’m… fuck… you’re so…”

“Say it,” I growl as I ease up, letting her teeter right on the edge, then stopping.

She whimpers, the sound raw and needy. “I’m perfect.”

“That’s right,” I growl, rewarding her by fucking her with my fingers again, watching her face go slack with pleasure. “My perfect girl. Mine .”

She’s close now. I can feel it in the way her muscles clench, hear it in the way her breath keeps catching. I lean in, tongue flicking over her earlobe. “Say you’re mine,” I urge, voice harsh.

She’s so far gone she barely hesitates. “I’m yours,” she gasps, the words breaking on an exhale .

I press my thumb hard to her clit, fingers pumping fast. “Good girl. Now come for me.”

Her whole body seizes, every muscle tensing as her mouth opens on a silent scream. Her wide eyes stay locked on mine in the mirror as she rides it out, hips jerking, legs trembling.

“That’s it, beautiful,” I murmur as I hold her through every wave, kissing the top of her shoulder.

She sags back against me as she comes back down, her skin warm and flushed, her hair disheveled, dress bunched at her hips. She’s panting, but there’s a smile on her lips. A real one.

“Happy?” she asks, voice hoarse.

I brush her hair out of her face, admiring the mess I made. “Ecstatic.”

She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t make any move to push me away. Instead, she leans into me, body slack and sated.

“Still hate the dress,” she mutters, catching my gaze in the mirror.

I grin. “I don’t. Cause you’re in it.”

She snorts a laugh as I pull my hand away and smooth the fabric over her hips, then spin her face to me. She’s flushed and still trembling a little, but at least her eyes are clear now, the shadows in them chased away.

I lean in to kiss her, soft and slow, tasting everything I’ve ever wanted on her lips. When I start to pull away, she catches my jaw, holding me there for a few more seconds before breaking the kiss.

I draw back with a grin, swiping the corner of my mouth with a thumb. “Ready for this dumbass gala? They’re expecting us in the lobby at eight.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, frowning. “Promise we can leave as soon as Alpha’s done making a spectacle of us?”

“Deal.” I squeeze her ass, just to make her yelp.

She swats me away, then steps back, biting her lip as she gives me a slow once-over. “You clean up nice, Raines,” she remarks, heat smoldering in her eyes.

I square my shoulders, lifting my chin with pride. “Thanks.”

She tilts her head, eyes catching on my collar. “Have trouble with the bowtie?” she asks knowingly.

I yank it from my pocket and hold it in out, giving her puppy-dog eyes. “Think you can help? ”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” she laughs as she snatches the tie, stepping closer and reaching up to wrap it around my neck.

I look down at her as she works the knot, drinking in every detail of her appearance. This is all I’ve ever wanted. She’s all I’ve ever wanted.

“Hey,” I say as she finishes with the bowtie, making sure it’s snug.

Her eyes flicker up to meet mine, brow arched. “What?”

“None of that was bullshit, by the way. I wasn’t just trying to get in your panties, that’s how I really feel. I think…”

She pushes up on her toes, pressing her lips to mine just to shut me up. And because I’m powerless to resist anything this girl gives me, I abandon whatever grand declaration I was working up in favor of kissing the hell out of her.

Ten minutes later, we’re stepping out of the elevator into the gleaming lobby of the Tower, Miley walking with her head held high, all confidence and poise. I catch her hand, grinning like an idiot as we head for the black car at the curb outside, ready to burn the world down for her.

Whatever fresh hell awaits us tonight, we’ll face it together.

And if I have to remind her how perfect she is a thousand more times before it’s over, I will.