Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,62

her.

Drake nodded, and tucked his hands beneath his legs. “From now on, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Eyeing him skeptically, Emelia leaned forward once more. “Sorry about that,” she yelled. “I’d like a grande quadruple zebra mocha, and a—” Stopping, Emelia met Drake’s eyes. They’d turned from playful to lustful in a heartbeat. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” The words were a cat’s purr, deep and rumbling off his tongue.

Hell yes, she knew what he wanted. And she wanted the same thing.

Using one of the hands that were supposed to be on lockdown, Drake massaged Emelia’s back, then swept around her waist and dipped between her legs. Emelia’s breath whooshed out of her lungs and her mouth dried. As Drake stroked the juncture between her thighs, Emelia realized she really didn’t need air to refill her lungs. Air was seriously overrated. As long as Drake kept doing—oh God, that—she’d be fine.

“I’d also like a grande black coffee.” Emelia’s eyes fluttered closed as Drake’s fingers swirled teasingly over the seam in her jeans. She spread her legs and arched her back, earning a groan of approval from Drake’s lips. She went damp from his touch, and began to quiver with need.

“You should change your drink to a venti,” Drake said, a little too loud. “Once you hear all the kinky things I’m going to do to you, you’ll want to be up all damn day.”

“Uh, thanks for the offer, sir,” the man from the speaker blurted, “but I don’t get off work until two this afternoon.”

Drake and Emelia erupted with laughter, and didn’t stop until they’d paid for their drinks, handsomely tipped the eager barista, and put Starbucks in the rearview.

…

“I left my coffee in the car,” Emelia said. “Don’t you trust that I can be blindfolded, walk, and drink coffee at the same time?”

She tripped over a sidewalk curb and stumbled, latching on to Drake’s arm before her nose met the concrete.

“Not hardly.” Drake hauled her against him. “I’ll get your coffee for you in a second. Just hold on to me for now. You’re going to love what I’m about to show you, I promise. After this we’ll go back to my place. I’ll make you breakfast in bed and we can roll around in the sheets all day.”

Sounded like perfection if she’d ever heard it.

Drake had blindfolded Emelia with the tie he’d pulled out of the glove compartment. The instant he draped it over her eyes, she breathed in. It smelled like him—spicy and rich. She had no clue exactly where they were, or what was going on, but as long as she was with Drake, she really didn’t care.

“Another step up,” he said, helping her over a stoop. “And another.”

“Drake, what’s going on?” Her voice squeaked a bit, and she hated it.

Keys jingled. A door swept open, drenching them in the sweet scent of espresso and…was that the spicy, pungent smell of seasoned fish? Drake escorted Emelia over a threshold and into some sort of large space that echoed the stomping of his boots as they walked deeper inside. The place was warm and took away the chill from Emelia’s bones immediately. And from the peeking space between Drake’s tie and her nose, Emelia could tell the floor was hardwood. Glossy and probably slippery.

“Okay, Emie,” Drake said, releasing her arm. “I know you’re going to freak out when you see what’s in front of you, but you have to promise to hear me out.”

“Can I at least see what’s in front of me while I’m listening?” She reached out her hands as she took another step forward and bumped into a clunky piece of furniture.

“All right.” He was proud, his voice stern and commanding. “Go ahead.”

Uncertain as hell, Emelia slipped the tie over her head…and stared at a bar full of mirrors and pink decor, twinkling lights, bulky tables, and gold-rimmed barstools. In the back of the bar, an espresso station had been set up, and next to that, a spit-shield guarding what looked like a sushi stand.

Smiling, Drake spread his arms to his sides like a grand-master emcee. “What do you think?”

“Umm,” she said, biting her thumbnail. “What do I think about what?”

“Your new bar.”

Oh, hells to the no.

“What do you mean by new—new as in, you bought this place for me?” Confusion and anger surged through Emelia’s veins, but she clamped down the emotions, certain she’d missed something.

Drake nodded and charged around the long, sweeping bar, to where the bartender would stand