Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,29
quickly and licked his lips to return the moisture.
“Sorry for making you wait,” she said, once she’d reached the sidewalk. She did a little spin, revealing her exposed back and the bunching black fabric that gathered just above her rear. “What do you think?”
Good god. Her back was tan and smooth, her shoulders rounded with silken muscle dropping to a tiny, sexy waist.
He couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence if he tried, so he nodded and swallowed down the desire to tell her how absolutely exquisite she looked. How he was so proud that she would be on his arm tonight.
“What happened to the other dress?” The one he’d chosen to ensure no other men would get any crazy ideas about stealing his date. Drake swallowed cotton balls. “The, uh, black one.”
Emelia shrugged, her bare shoulders tapping loose tendrils of blond curls that dangled from the coil on the back of her head. “This one’s black, too, in case you didn’t notice.”
He’d noticed every last detail. The way her eyes shone a richer shade of blue, like the Aegean Sea after a drizzling rainstorm. He drank in the lean lines of her body, memorizing every last detail, every subtle curve.
How much longer was he going to be able to hold back from her? He’d planned on telling her everything when the time was right, but it seemed every time they got close, there was something between them—the deed issue, the biker, the questions about her fiancé. Normally, time wouldn’t have been an issue. He could’ve introduced Emelia to his world slowly, so the adjustment period would be smooth and manageable. But the longer Drake waited, the more their connection increased. It was like a magnet had taken up residence in their chests and sucked them together when they were close. He couldn’t take things further until she knew the truth. He couldn’t deceive her that way, yet he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her, either.
And he couldn’t help but think about where their relationship was headed. She was human. Even if she found out about their world and accepted it, she would have to know she could never have children and a family. Not if she bonded with him.
He’d always wanted an heir. Had always wanted someone to take over the pack when he was old and out of his prime. But he’d wanted to have a partner in life and love as well. Maybe only having one of those things would be enough…
“You look amazing,” he said, opening the door of the limo. “Who do I have to thank for your last-minute wardrobe change?”
She settled into the seat, Drake beside her, and they were off.
“Trixie thought the occasion called for a bit more flair.”
Drake huffed, hiding the swell in his pants with his tuxedo coat. “I bet she did.”
They drove to the airport, talking the entire way about what to expect for the evening. Emelia needed to know this was business first, pleasure second, and that there would be heightened security measures at the hall. He assured her it was all for precautionary purposes.
She believed every word of it.
The limo pulled into the airport and passed a few guard stations, then stopped in front of a private jet. The stairs had been pulled down and a red carpet had been laid out.
“Hold the phone. We’re taking this?” Emelia asked, peering beneath the doorframe. Her perfume was rich and sweet, smelling like warm honey melted over vanilla, and wafted around Drake as she leaned over to get a better look. “This is intense.”
He’d been thinking the same thing.
“I can guarantee the night will only get more intense from here,” he said, and had no idea how he was going to handle it.
Chapter Nine
City hall was breathtaking in its grandeur, the perfect place to host the Vanguard Gala. Lightly toned granite and sandstone gave the inner rotunda an elegant, American Renaissance feel, from the larger-than-life pillars to the intricate archways, to the grand staircase. Round tables and cloth-covered chairs filled the entire circular hall, with robust flower arrangements in every corner and on every table. Purple and red auras of light focused on the wall above the staircase and in the center of the dance floor added impressions of sophistication familiar to the Wilder Foundation.
Emelia looped her arm through Drake’s and moved around the room like a goddess, with her shoulders pulled back and chin held high. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. It didn’t matter if Drake