Bound to the Billionaire

Chapter Twelve: I Want You

"Well," I said, sucking in a large breath as I spoke. My chest squeezed at the sight of the luxury around me. I didn't know how to act. I didn't match. All things considered, I was trash. Trash to myself, trash to my pack, trash to the world, really. A hybrid with scraped and busted hands from work, eyes heavy and rung with thick dark circles. What did he see in me aside from what he thought the Moon Goddess had told him about me?

Nothing. 

Or at least, that's what made some logical sense to me at the moment. Maybe there was something, maybe I was a diamond in the rough. The very rough. Maybe to him, who was I to know how a billionaire thought?

"Well, what?" He c****d his head at me, raised an eyebrow that suddenly looked midnight black in the seductively dark penthouse. "You get lost in your thoughts a lot, it seems."

"I like to  think about how garbage I am. It's kinda in my mind a lot." I shrugged, and reader, you know that wasn't a lie. You read my thoughts with every chapter, you know 70% of them are reflecting on being inadequate compared to other werewolves. It is and was who I am.

Nico shook his head, and a sigh rolled gently from his parted lips. "I've only known you for a little bit, but I can tell you you're worth more than you give yourself credit for."

I took a seat on his couch; all black, soft, sleek, and cold like leather. I wanted to lounge on it, it was just one of those couches buttery enough to invite you to sleep, and I'd been through enough in the past days that I could sleep anywhere, even in the clutches of this strange, rich man. "Sure." One clipped syllable ground out through a clenched jaw. "You got anything to eat? Not to offend your hospitality, but I ought to be leaving soon."

Nico plopped down on to the end of the couch. He touches his bandaged ear with his fingertips, and looking at them made me think of how they felt on my skin, how I wanted them back on my body,  running up my chest, stroking my neck. It made a warm flush run through my cheeks. "I was hoping you could stay a little longer. It may not be safe for you to go back."

"I can't stay forever."

"Maybe not forever," Nico said, his eyes roaming mine. I could feel them as they slipped up and down my body, this warm, tortuous sting. "But at least for a little bit?" Nico's hand slid against my knee, and the heat of his hand on my body made my wolf turn. Made me bite my lip a little and steel by breath. He wanted him, the dumb wolf. f*****g hell, I wanted him.  "We were interrupted, and I don't want that to be your final impression of me."

"I threw your probably billion dollar jacket in the trash, maybe you should be a little more concerned about the impression I leave on you, huh? You're doing all this nice stuff for someone who--"

He kissed me. He kissed me, and I don't know how to describe it. The crash of his lips against mine, the thunder of my heart as he pressed his chest up against me. It was a storm of heat, of emotion, of f*****g desire. His desire for me and my desire for him, so thick it lingered like an aroma. A storm that rolled in on a sigh.

My body went pliant against him. With this man, it felt okay to be soft. With Nico, I wanted to be soft. It felt good to go gentle, to no longer have to be the brave leader taking care of everything and everyone. It felt good to let the heat of his breath fill me with the rushing flow of adrenaline; it all felt so good. So freeing. His hands around my neck, for those fingers to crawl under my shirt. In the light that pierced the frosted windows, I saw the gleam of perfect white teeth that looked just a little too sharp to be human. 

God, I wanted them. I wanted him. The scent of musky cologne, the hint of hair product that smelled timeless, like class itself. The press of his warm muscles against me. When I saw those teeth, I couldn't help but want them again. What did that one mark even mean? My dad had painfully described it as "a joining of souls," his eyes on the ceiling and his fingers fidgeting with my Dogers comforter while I, too, tried to look anywhere but his eyes. That was all I knew. 

But surely, even if Nico gave me that one bite, I could still dip out, right? 

No, the wolf said. But I didn't want to listen to him. I wanted to believe that I could be free, could always be free. I twitched against him, slid down against the hard part of the couch and let him roll my shirt up against my chest. 

And then came the knock on the door.  

"f**k," he said softly, and then louder, in his smooth rich-man voice. "I'm a little occupied at the moment."

"I assume you are, but it's important." The voice from the other side was loud, deep. There was a southern twang, a twang deeper than mine, I have to guess. We're all in North Carolina, we all have to have one, all except Nico who's voice just exuded rich. That kind of authoritative ooze, that melted me and I guess anyone around him. "It's about the patrol."

"Oh." He dropped the rolled-up part of my shirt and wiped the sweat off his forehead; stress level elevated, s*x drive zero. The cloud returned back to his face, a shield up that I hadn't been aware he'd ever put up before. "I'll let you in."

I'm hungry. My stomach has been growling for hours; I'm surrounded by terrifyingly rich people, and no one has fed me or offered me their kitchen to feed myself, all aside from mints and cheap coffee.  "Can I eat? Can I leave? Can I go home?"

But he's already prowling toward the door, and from the other side I hear: "We're in some deep s**t, you and I. Well, mostly you."

What had I gotten into, I wondered. What had these rich fuckers gotten me into, I wondered. 

I was gonna do a lot of wondering, these days.