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BRIAN
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I HELD ELIZABETH’S soft, warm body tightly against mine, trying not to think about tomorrow.
Tomorrow Elizabeth would leave for Rosenthal. A part of me wanted to beg her to stay with me. At the same time, with painful certainty, I knew I would never truly have her unless I first let her go.
“She’ll come back.”
“I hope you’re right, Wolf.”
About a week ago, some of the pain and discomfort had returned. I was doing my best to hide it from her. If she knew about it, she wouldn’t go, and it would feel like emotional blackmail.
I knew she wanted to do the renovation of the Baker Block. But even more, she needed to distance herself from this world—and perhaps from me—to make some big decisions.
What was I going to do without her? She brought lightness, laughter and fun back into my life.
I kissed the crown of her head, inhaling her flowery scent, so young and fresh.
“Why don’t you try to rest a bit, Elizabeth? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” For both of us.
She braced herself on her forearms and looked at my eyes. “If you want me to stay, I will. I don’t want to choose between you and any job, no matter how great it is.”
It was not an impulsive offer. Her voice was firm and resolute; she’d been thinking of it for a while.
For a brief moment I was tempted, but then I shook my head. “No, cariad. This job means a lot to you. Just promise you’ll be back.”
“I’ll be spending weekends here, as I promised.”
I was rather thinking in longer terms, but weekends would do for now. “You have my plane and a pilot at your disposal,” I said, “so make use of it.”
In Jason’s absence, I’d asked Luke Brentwood, James’s pilot, to fly Elizabeth back and forth. Her plan was to work Monday to Friday in Rosenthal and spend her weekends here in Copper Ridge.
I was also about to hire a whole bunch of people, from architects and technicians to workers, to make her job easier and, hopefully, shorter.
I’d asked Lily to do the background check on Christian Enescu, Elizabeth’s fellow architectural restorer from Zurich. He’d passed it with flying colors. Not only was he a great architect but also about fifty, with a receding hairline and beer tummy, and gay. Absolutely perfect. Our lengthy and thorough telephone conversation had only confirmed what I already knew: he had no clue he’d vouched for me nor any recollection of a person named Khalid Nouri. I’d hired him to work with Elizabeth on the spot.
Elizabeth might not be happy when she heard about her assistant, but I’d made sure her position as the project lead was indisputable. I estimated the renovation of the Baker Block could be done by the end of fall. It could be faster if I hired more hands, but I didn’t dare to push it too far. And when she finished there, we could go somewhere, to Europe, or on a cruise. Or to some tropical island, with white sand and a hammock for two suspended between palm trees. Providing my wolf let me.
“She’ll come back.”
“I know, blaidd”.
I pulled her up until our lips met. “Love me, Elizabeth,” I murmured against her mouth, so soft and sweet.
We made love with aching tenderness, exposing our vulnerability to each other: my fear of loneliness, her uncertainty of the future. “Don’t leave me,” I pleaded to her, lost in her hot, wet softness.
“I can’t, Brian,” she said in a soft whisper, taking me deeper inside her. “I love you. You only can leave me.”
My chest nearly burst with emotion.
“I love you, Elizabeth,” I said, feeling it with every fiber of my body. If I had been in any doubt before, I was sure now. I loved her with an intensity that took my breath away. “I love you.”
A deep sob escaped her lips and a tiny bead rolled from the corner of her eye, and that single tear almost undid me. My knot swelled, filling her. The grip of her inner muscles around my cock tightened. She arched her back, grinding her hips against mine. I firmly held her hips to steady her, and I thrust deep inside her, in and out, in and out, slowly, lovingly, in even, measured strokes, until the world around us condensed into a single white star and then exploded, pulling us both into a whirlpool of pure joy.
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IT DAWNED WHEN I FELT the prickling sensation of my transformation. The next Friday seemed painfully far away. Anxious not to waste any of the last precious moments with Elizabeth, I shifted in the bedroom. She watched me while I was doing it, with a mix of fascination and admiration in her unblinking eyes. When I finished, she walked us to our favorite place in front of the fireplace, dragging a bed cover behind her.
“I’m going to sleep a bit now, Brian,” she said and, using my shoulders as a pillow, cradled against me. She pulled the cover over her, closed her arms around my neck and dozed off.
I turned back one hour later, around six. Elizabeth was sound asleep and didn’t rouse when I carried her to bed. I went down to the kitchen and made us breakfast. When she woke up, we ate, made love and then took a shower together.
She was talkative and, for one of the most efficient and methodical persons I’d ever met, quite disorganized. She packed and unpacked her suitcase three times, couldn’t decide what to wear and then put on a pair of jeans, a hoodie and a pair of sneakers, and hadn’t even attempted to straighten her hair.
I braided it and then helped her pack her things.
As for me, I was quiet. I made an effort to put on a brave face, but I felt quite miserable as I carried her suitcase down to the hallway.
She’ll be back.
She opened her purse and fumbled through it. “Here they are. My house keys.” She sighed and shrugged. “Well, I suppose I’m ready.”
I wasn’t, but that didn’t count.
We stood in the hallway, looking at each other. And then, she was in my arms, my lips on hers, her hands in my hair, mine around her. I pushed her to the wall, almost too rough, desperate to have her once more. “You’re mine, Elizabeth,” I groaned in her hair. I unbuttoned her jeans and jerked them down; with shaking fingers she scrambled with my belt buckle and the zipper.
“Yes. Yours, Brian. Yours only.” She took me in her small, warm hand, stroked me once, twice, rolled on the condom I’d fished out from my pocket—since sex with Elizabeth was a wonderfully spontaneous affair, we had both gotten into the habit of always having a few rubbers handy—and guided me to her slippery opening.
We took each other hard and fast and came together in a shattering release. In the silence that replaced our cries, my teeth sunk into her neck, not so hard as to hurt her, but enough to leave a mark on the white softness of her skin. I listened to the hard beating of our hearts, two pulses blended in a single sound.
Mine.
“I have to go, Brian,” Elizabeth said in a voice edged with tears.
I kissed her once more. She clenched around my softening shaft as I pulled out and let out a tiny moan as my body left hers.
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HALF AN HOUR LATER I stood on the edge of the improvised runway and, with heavy heart, watched as the Cessna became smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether from the horizon.
I wasn’t ready to face the empty house, so I parked the car in the garage, went to the stable and let my wolf take over. My face and neck still tingled from Elizabeth’s fierce kisses, and her scent was in my nostrils and on my skin, clear, fresh, stronger now since my wolf senses were sharper. I broke into a run at breakneck speed, but stopped suddenly after a short while, feeling, amazed, the powerful sense of happiness for having Elizabeth in my life overlaying the anxiety of her departure.
“She’ll be back. Right?”
“I know you miss her, but she’ll be back, blaidd.”