Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine novel Chapter 102

“If I'm dismissed, I don’t have anything to fall back on. The accident… all of my savings were cleared out with court fees and fines. I can’t go home. I don’t have a pack that I can rely on. I need this job. It pays the rent and buys our food..."

"You still have me!" he shouted.

Grace gasped. Jay never yelled. He was always calm. Even in horrible situations—violent situations—he was not so volatile.

“I’ll earn money to take care of you,” he said more quietly. As if the outburst never happened. “Don’t give it another thought.”

Grace stared dazedly at the man before her. She believed him. Even though he didn’t have a steady job and no home of his own, she trusted his word. Indeed, his words had given her an unprecedented sense of security.

Maybe she didn’t have to go it alone. Maybe she did have someone she could rely on.

"Make the call." He brought the phone before her.

She hesitated for a few seconds, then took the phone and called her manager on-call at the Sanitation Center.

As the phone rang and she waited to be connected to her manager, she felt her blood pressure rise. She didn’t love this job, but she really didn’t want to lose it. She trusted that Jay could provide for them, but she didn’t want that responsibility to fall to him.

“Hello, Mrs. Jacobson,” she said politely when her boss answered. Then she gave a summary of the accident, leaving out the whole “I was pushed by Zoe Stevens and bullied by my ex-fiancee’s new fiancee Lily Atkinson.”

She thought Mrs. Jacobson would tell her no. Or that she’d have to apply with the county or request additional approvals, but there were no extra hurdles. To her total surprise, Mrs. Jacobson inquired about her health and suggested she take longer than a week if she needed to. Furthermore, she would still be paid the minimum wage and her salary would not be affected.

Grace couldn’t believe it.

“What happened?” Jason asked.

“She said yes.”

He continued to wash her foot, and his hand slipped around to massage her ankle. Then her calf.

She sucked in a breath.

His dark gaze cut to hers.

“She, uh, told me to take more time.” Grace could feel her face heating. “That particular manager has never been very warm toward me…”

“Don’t overthink it. You’re injured. It’s the right thing to do.”

His fingers gently along her ankle again and she felt tingles of goodness from her foot to the top of her head. Had anyone ever washed or massaged her like this? Sean never did. Even in their most intimate times, he wasn’t one for much foreplay.

As those tingles continued to race from the sole of her foot, up her leg to all those other places, Grace felt her face grow redder. She could imagine his strong hands, those long fingers, tracing higher up her legs, to where they v-ed. And once her thoughts took that turn, she couldn’t look at him without imagining the things he could do to her.

"It's... it's nothing." She bit her lip. Oh my god, had she imagined that moment? Was she so starved for intimacy that his kindness made her leap to the wrong conclusions?