Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine novel Chapter 50

JASON

My body tenses like it does right before a fight. But I don’t resist as Grace pulls my body against hers.

Her arms are thin but strong. She rests her head on my chest and holds me close. I breathe carefully, struggling to control the many emotions I’m feeling. Her scent envelopes me. It’s that light, faint smell that reminds me of soft summer mornings. And quiet fall nights.

That scent inexplicably gives me a feeling of contentment.

It was as if being by her side allows me to relax completely.

Which is just ridiculous.

"Jay, didn't you say that you would never abandon me? I vow the same, I will never abandon you. No matter what happens in the future, I will stay by your side."

Her voice is a whisper in my ear.

"Would you really stay by my side no matter what?"

"Of course," she replies matter-of-factly.

“Those are easy words, sister.” I let my wolf pulse through. Purposely trying to frighten her. ”Won’t you be scared of me?"

She chuckles lightly. "Why would I be scared of you? My Jay…” She smiles at me.

My Jay... there she goes again with that wording. Like I belong to her. Oh, I’m not averse to hearing it. I might even enjoy the pretense of it.

But right now I’m thinking too much and suddenly our faces are only inches apart. The tips of our noses are almost touching as she turns her face up to mine.

Her hands twine behind my neck.

She bites her bottom lip and I stop thinking entirely.

Grace’s face flushes red, like it’s finally dawning on her that she’s in my arms. Her body pressed up against mine. When her eyes widen and she instinctively backs up, I sling my arms around her waist, holding her in place.

Grace freezes.

Yeah. Now she’s getting it.

My wolf rumbles beneath my skin. And she probably senses that too, because I’m not making any effort to mask him, and he’s a very possessive beast.

Her eyes search mine.

Silly girl, I can practically read her mind, her face is so expressive.

Her eyes are nearly black, her pupils are so blown out. She’s playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. And I can smell her arousal.

She wants me.

My hands reflexively tighten on her hips.

Her breath catches.

There’s so much vulnerability in this woman. That’s the other thing that’s easy to see. Her uncertainly.

Do I see her as something more than an ex-con.

Yes, Grace.

Do I think less of her because she’s human.

No, Grace.

What about the scars and baggage, the isolation from pack.

Don’t really care about that either, Grace.

She stays here, suspended in my arms as her gaze darts between my eyes and mouth.

“Still see me as your brother, Grace?”

She almost laughs.

And it is funny.

Because this connection, this chemistry between us, there is nothing ‘brotherly’ about it. I see straight through her.

She’s attracted to me. The way a woman wants a man.

My phone rings loudly and I growl.

Grace shakes her head as if she’s coming back to reality. She shoves out of my arms.

“Ava?” I call out to her again.