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CHAPTER SIX

CLAIRE

True to his word, Sebastian left a stack of clothes on the bed: a soft navy T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. The shirt is so long it could be a dress, and the sweats are way too big. But once I knot the drawstring below my bump, they’re actually really comfortable. Sebastian’s rich leather-and-bergamot scent clings to the garments, and I can’t stop myself from sighing as I hold the fabric up to my nose.

Padding down to the kitchen, I try not to imagine what it would be like to stay here with him — soaking in that luxurious tub every night, lounging around in Sebastian’s clothes, and snuggling up in front of the fire with my handsome wolf.

I give myself a little shake. What the hell has gotten into me? Sebastian’s not my anything. He’s just being nice to me because he feels sorry for me — or because he’s worried I’m going to tell the world that he can turn into a wolf .

The smell of cinnamon and maple syrup tugs me out of my pathetic train of thought. Sebastian is standing at the stove, flipping pieces of French toast in a skillet. The edges are deliciously fried, and my stomach grumbles.

He lifts his head as I approach, and something in his expression changes. His eyes rake down my body, roving over the swells of my breasts before stopping at my abdomen. A hungry look sweeps over his face, and for a moment, I see a flicker of the wolf in his eyes.

Belatedly, I realize my mistake. I’ve always had small breasts — small enough that I could get away with not wearing a bra. The pregnancy has made them grow nearly two cup sizes already, and while I thought the T-shirt was baggy enough, the thin material hides nothing. My peaked nipples are visible through the fabric, and the swell of my belly is obvious.

For several heartbeats, we just stare at one another, but then Sebastian averts his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind breakfast for supper,” he says, that scrumptious British accent doing funny things to my stomach. “I usually have groceries delivered, but with the snow . . .” He trails off. “Bread and eggs are all I have in the house.”

“Breakfast for supper sounds amazing,” I say, taking a seat at the counter where he’s already plated some food for me.

I coat the French toast in warm maple syrup before taking a bite, making an appreciative sound in my throat. “It’s delicious,” I groan .

The corner of his mouth twitches, and he continues to watch me eat with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction.

“Sorry,” I mumble, realizing I’m eating like an animal. “Being pregnant makes me hungry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s rather adorable, actually.” And, bless him, he serves me another slice of French toast. “You’re eating for two, remember.”

“How could I forget? It’s one of the few perks of being pregnant.”

“Ah, yes. Must be bloody annoying, I suppose. You can’t drink. You can’t smoke. No deli meats or soft cheeses . . .”

I shake my head. “It isn’t that.”

The last fifteen weeks have been the loneliest of my life, which is ironic since I’m never alone. Not with the baby growing inside me.

I suck in a breath and let it out in a huff, trying to put it into words. “It’s just . . . I always thought I’d have someone to share this with.” I rub a hand over my belly, delighting in the tiny bump I feel there. “Getting that positive pregnancy test . . . doctor’s appointments . . . the first time I feel him kick.”

I cried for two days when I first found out. I spent most of the weekend huddled on the bathroom floor, leaving only to buy more pregnancy tests.

As soon as I saw those two little lines, I knew I had to end things with Dane. I just didn’t know how.

“I’m sorry you haven’t had that,” says Sebastian quietly. And I get the feeling he genuinely means it .

I shrug. “It is what it is.”

He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something but then closes it again.

“So,” I say, eager to change the subject. “You know a little about me, but I don’t know anything about you.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I’m not that interesting.”

“You don’t rescue elderly cats for a living, so what is it that you do?”

To have this incredible house, he must do something pretty damn special.

“I’m a freelance pen-tester.”

I frown. “Like you test out pens?” I mime writing in the air, and Sebastian snorts.

“No. It’s short for penetration testing — sort of like an ethical hacker. Tech companies pay me to hack into their systems to show them where the vulnerabilities are. Occasionally, the authorities will request my services to ID black-hat hackers and track cyberterrorists.”

My mouth falls open. His job is impressive.

“And were you tracking Dane?”

He gives a noncommittal tilt of his head. “Yes.”

“For work?”

“For my pack.”

“Why?”

Sebastian’s expression darkens. “Let’s just say he hurt someone I care about.”

“Oh,” I whisper, staring down at my empty plate.

Sebastian was hunting Dane for someone else — someone who sounds important to him. A woman? I’m dying to ask, but he seems cagey about it, so I cast around for another topic. “How did you get into that sort of thing? Hacking, I mean.”

“I dropped out of high school when I was fifteen. I had what you might call a limited skill set, and by that I mean it was limited to brute-force hacking into people’s bank accounts. Eventually, I had to grow up. Get a real job, as they say.”

I nod, chewing on my bottom lip. I get a sense that there’s more to that story, but I don’t want to pry.

“What about you? How did you get into the whole do-gooder thing?”

I snort. “The whole ‘do-gooder thing’?”

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

I shrug. “My parents were hippies who taught me and my brother to always leave things better than we found them. I guess the lesson just stuck.”

My voice cracks on the last word, and something in his expression softens. “They were hippies?”

I smile sadly, mostly because if I don’t, I’ll start to cry. “They were killed in a car accident when I was thirteen — my parents and my brother. I was taken in and fostered by another family, though they never adopted me. I guess I didn’t quite measure up.”

I don’t mean for that last bit to come out so bitter, but being an orphan fucking sucked. I refuse to let my baby grow up without a mother. I never want him to feel unwanted.

Sebastian doesn’t give me a pitying look or some line about how he’s sorry for my loss. He just stares at me for a long moment before reaching out and wiping a drop of syrup from the corner of my mouth.

Every nerve ending in my body zings to life at the light contact, and all my focus goes to where he’s touching me. He traces my lower lip with the pad of his thumb, and I have to resist the urge to suck his finger into my mouth.

His blue eyes follow the path his thumb takes, and I feel my panties go damp. My nipples pebble up beneath the thin shirt, and I’m terrified he’s going to look down and see the effect he has on me.

But then Sebastian’s nostrils flare, and embarrassment heats my cheeks. What did he say about pregnancy changing my scent? Can he smell how turned on I am?

His gaze flicks up to meet mine, and I immediately know the answer.

Sebastian bites down on his own lip, his eyes burning with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs.

I know he can’t possibly be interested in me — not really — and yet my treacherous body aches.

I ache to be touched by him — to feel those big hands roving over my body. I want to feel him skin to skin, to learn what those hard muscles would feel like pressed up against the softest parts of me.

As if he can read my thoughts, Sebastian reaches for me. Those long fingers ghost across my cheek before threading through my hair. I feel a slight tug as he pulls me closer, and then his lips crash down over mine .

His kiss isn’t gentle or sweet. It’s searing, hard, and possessive. My lips part with a soft gasp, and he takes the opportunity to plunder my mouth with his tongue.

He tastes like maple syrup and pure, unadulterated sin.

Instantly, my body responds — begging to be closer to him. My breasts tighten, and my stomach turns over as warmth gushes between my legs. Sebastian rakes his teeth over my bottom lip, and I let out a whimper of need.

His mouth moves lower, pressing wet kisses all down my neck. I shudder, and my head rolls back as he commands my body. The hand on my hip draws me in closer until I feel his hardness pressed against my belly.

And fuck , he’s huge.

Feeling the physical evidence of his desire unleashes mine, and I roll my hips against him. My fingers tangle in his silky black hair as he kisses me again, and a low groan rumbles up his throat.

My nipples are two hard points raking down his chest. Sebastian digs his fingers into my hips, grinding me against him as he ravages my mouth.

I have never been kissed like this.

The friction of his body moving against mine is almost unbearable — that throbbing ache in my pussy threatening to drive me over the edge. My head spins as Sebastian’s tongue strokes my own, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have that tongue thrusting in and out of my channel .

But just as I reach down to palm his erection through his jeans, Sebastian pulls away.

His hair is mussed, and his lips are swollen, but it’s the intensity in his gaze that makes my breath hitch.

He releases me and then retreats, leaving me alone in the kitchen.