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In the darkness of her bedroom, Margot dreamed again.
It was Bryce's voice, again, encouraging her to strip off her clothes, to send her fingers between her legs and stroke her folds.
"Put one finger in that sweet, slick little pussy," he said, his voice gruff.
She hesitated. She barely knew him, hadn't talked to him much at all. And Nolan didn't like him, so that was all she needed to know.
"Do it," he said. "Now."
She did it. Stars above help her, she did it, and she whimpered at how good it felt.
"Another finger." The dark command in his words made her feel filthy and electric with need.
She did as he said.
"Good girl," he whispered. "Now fuck yourself so I can watch."
"W-watch?" she asked, freezing in place. Hearing him and obeying was one thing. Having him in the room with her—or watching in the dream with her—was another thing entirely. "I don't want you to watch."
He growled, then said, "Fine. This time. Let me hear your needy little moans."
She moaned and heard his answering growl.
"Touch your tits," he said. "Circle your nipples, but don't touch them—not yet."
She teased herself, and her moans were genuine. This was torture. She allowed the heel of her hand to press against her clit, but he snapped, "No. I'll tell you when you can come. Only me."
"So bossy," she said, but her breath hitched with desire.
He gave a dark laugh. "You love it."
She did love it—it was true. It was true, too, that she'd gone to bed tonight hoping she'd dream of him, hoping he'd visit her while she slept.
"Good girl," he said again.
Why did that turn her on so much? Did she have daddy issues left over from when she was a kid? She didn't think so, but—
"You're thinking too much," he said. "Pinch your nipples, that'll drive other thoughts away. During our time together, I want you to think only about me, my voice, and how I make you feel. Understand?"
"Yes," she said, pinching first one nipple, then the other. The ache between her legs intensified. She'd give anything to have him here in the room with her.
"I'm going to let you come soon," he said, "I just want to hear another moan from you."
She let her sounds escape as she moved her fingers rapidly between her legs, thrusting hard like she wanted him to thrust, wishing it was his cock there instead of her fingers, imagining that the earthy and wintergreen scents of him surrounded her.
"It's almost time," he said, "get ready—"
Knock, knock, knock. Three sharp, loud raps sounded on her front door and she woke up suddenly, her hand and fingers soaked between her legs, but her clothes still on.
Another stupid dream.
"Margot?" Nolan's voice. "You okay in there?"
"Uh, yeah," she said.
"I thought I heard noises."
"I'm okay." She grabbed her phone with her clean hand, unlocked it, and turned on some music with the volume down. "Just listening to music."
"Okay," he said.
She waited for the sound of his retreating footsteps, then gingerly climbed out of bed. It was four twenty-five in the morning and she had to be up in five minutes to go to the bakery, anyway.
Dammit. That Bryce dream had seemed even more real than the others.
And he'd wanted to watch? Holy shit, what kind of kinky monster was her sleeping brain assembling?
*
THE ROUTINE OF THE bakery kept her from thinking too much, and she was grateful. Sometime around nine, the women from the RCC came in to visit over coffee and yummy baked goods. Margot sat with them for a few minutes, enjoying the flow of their conversation. Erena's presence made her happier than anything else—it was good to see Erena included and getting along with the others. If there had been one thing she'd wished for her sister at the start of the year, it would have been friends. Now Erena had not only close friends, but a mate.
"Has Jameson found anyone else to go to Peru?" Kayla was asking Nina.
Nina shook her head. "He might end up going himself."
Margot, with one eye on the front door in case a customer walked in, said, "But what about his teaching?"
"He'd have to apply for a leave of absence, I guess," Nina said.
Margot felt bad, but she sure as heck wasn't going to volunteer. She had the bakery and she was perfectly comfortable and content here. Happy, even. Well, happy-ish.
"Maybe he'll voluntell someone," Gemma said. "My money's on Rex. I'd miss him, but I'd understand. It's just bad timing with Rex's gym."
Rex had just opened a gym for MMA fighters. Matt and Parker had been helping him with it off and on, and he was trying to get Nolan to come in and coach.
Erena grinned. "It would be funny if Jameson picks Nolan to go to Peru."
"That would so not be funny," Margot said, tossing a crumpled napkin at her sister. She couldn't forget the way Nolan had changed since Bryce came to the RCC. He was quieter than usual, and angry. He'd been quiet before, but never angry. "Have you seen how he and Bryce hate each other?"
"I think that has to do more with you than with either of them," Erena muttered.
A few customers walked in, so Margot left her friends and went back to the counter. Bryce and Nolan hated each other because of Margot? She doubted it—Nolan hated Bryce long before he'd arrived or even looked at Margot. She and Nolan had already talked, and the two of them weren't a match. As hot as he was, she didn't feel anything for him, nor him for her.
No, there was something else going on between the two of them, and it was probably big. Nolan was the least temperamental shifter she knew. For him to have such anger toward his brother meant that Bryce must have done something truly awful.
Time went by, with Margot working alongside her new manager, Kim, for a couple of hours. Kim was a whiz at all things bakery-related. The two of them finished planning out their cupcake flavors for the rest of the week, and Kim looked at the time. "My husband has everything under control, but I'd love to get home a few minutes early and surprise the twins for their birthday."
"What are you doing here, crazy pants?" Margot said, snagging one of their boxes and expertly stacking several cupcakes into it. "Take these and go. Tell the girls I said happy birthday."
Kim grinned. "Thank you. And you know I'll cover for you if you ever need to take off. Your sister caught me on the way in and said you haven't had a vacation since you opened the place."
"Thanks, Kim. It's something I should start considering, I guess."
After Kim left, Margot put their planner on the low recipe shelf adjacent to the kitchen counter. Something about Kim's offer niggled at Margot's conscience. Her face felt warm with something like guilt. There was something Margot should do, but she wasn't stepping up. As she walked to the front of the bakery to lock the door and flip the closed sign, she mulled it over.
A large shadow appeared in the door's glass pane. Margot jumped back, startled.
"Can I come in?"
Bryce's voice. Margot sucked in a breath and resisted the urge to tuck the wayward strands of her hair back under her For Fox Sake baseball cap.
"Margot? I can see you through this glass, you know."
Exhaling, she unlocked the deadbolt and held the door open.
He stood before her in a gray, long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. His shoulders looked oh-so-strong and touchable, like she could run her hands over them and he'd pick her up before slamming her against the wall... No. She had to keep her wits, she couldn't trust herself around him.
In as calm of a voice as she could manage, she said, "We're closed."
"So I see," he said, pointing at the sign. "I just wanted to come by and hang out."
"At my place of work?"
He looked down. His blond hair was disheveled, like he'd run his hands through it. Margot wished she could touch the messy strands. He said, "I can't seem to get you alone at the Ring of Fire."
Her voice came out a whisper. "Why do you want to get me alone?"
He didn't answer her; instead he walked past her, all the way to the glass-fronted counter where a half-dozen cupcakes were still on display. "What do you do with the extras?"
"I take them to a family shelter." She closed the front door and locked it. She didn't pursue her earlier question because she wasn't entirely certain she wanted the answer.
"Nice," he said.
"It's not much, but I like to think the cupcakes brighten their day."
He nodded. "I bet they do. It's thoughtful of you to remember them."
Shrugging, she said, "Not everyone has a happy childhood, you know?"
"You didn't?" he asked.
"Oh, I was perfectly content," she said. "Erena and I grew up in a nice house, went to a decent school. Our parents weren't abusive or anything. They just weren't overly affectionate, either. At least not to me."
He looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"
She forced a little laugh—he was taking this entirely too seriously. "My parents played the favorites game with me and Erena, and it was sometimes rough for me. For her, too, although of course I didn't know it at the time."
He looked sorry to hear it, so she quickly clapped her hands and moved behind the counter toward the back.
"That kitchen isn't cleaning itself," she said. "You can either help, or be on your merry way."
He followed her into the back. "What do I do?"
They passed the next hour quietly. Margot tried to lose herself in the rhythms of cleaning and putting away mixing bowls and spoons that had just come out of the dishwasher. Bryce carefully cleaned the counters, then swept and mopped the floor. When he came near Margot with the mop, he playfully flicked it at her, spattering her jeans with water.
She laughed, found a wet sponge next to the sink, and chucked it at him.
He caught it and tossed it back in the sink, smiling. Margot wanted to stare at that smile of his—a full smile, nothing guarded in it. He was a man who held himself back from nothing, whereas Margot would do whatever it took to keep herself in one place, doing the same things, forever.
The moment lasted a beat too long, and she realized he was staring at her, too. Feeling flustered, she turned to the open dishwasher and grabbed a steel mixing spoon to put it away.
"Are you in love with my brother?" he asked.
Margot dropped the mixing spoon. "What?"
"I need to know," he said.
Slowly, she turned to face him. His stance was rigid, as though he was holding himself as still as possible. His gray eyes slammed against her, searching for answers. There was just a hint of blue in them.
"So are you?" he asked. "In love with Nolan?"
"No," she said, picking up the spoon. Something was building in this very room. Magical, unreachable, undefinable. She couldn't name it, but she could feel it.
"Good." He strode forward until they were toe to toe. He smelled like grass and mint, as always, and a little bit like coffee, and the pine trees surrounding the Ring of Fire. His jaw had a light dusting of blond stubble, his mouth was a line of intensity.
The spoon dangled from her limp hand. It was all she could do not to drop it a second time.
She counted breaths like she sometimes counted stirs when she mixed a complicated batter. One, two, three, four, five. Neither of them moved. His eyes flashed a silvery blue.
Finally, unable to take the tension any longer, Margot said, "You said good. Why is it good that I'm not in love with Nolan?"
One side of his mouth quirked up. "Because it means I can do this."
Leaning down, he pressed his lips against hers.
The kiss was so soft, she could barely feel it, except she felt it everywhere. It was every dream she'd had over the past week, come to life. Everything his voice had asked her to do, every orgasm his voice had directed, every whispered command came back to her in a rush.
She dropped the spoon on purpose this time and grabbed Bryce by the shoulders so she could make the kiss bigger, hotter. More, her body screamed. All of him, everything.
He tasted like wintergreen, like the space between one long-held breath and another, like the feeling she got when she saw cupcakes iced to perfection. There was magic between them, and meaning, and mayhem.
Caught up in the moment, she lifted one knee, hooking it around his leg to bring them closer. He grinned through their kiss. "Climb up here."
Her body obeyed before her mind even processed that his voice sounded just as gruff, just as bossy as it did in her dreams. She lifted herself higher with her leg braced on his hips. He helped pick her up, his hands coming around to her ass and gripping her as he pulled her against him. Their tongues stroked together, lips moving in a rhythm dictated by their heartbeats.
He walked them to the counter and set her on it. The metal was cool through her jeans, but it was nothing compared to the inferno of her body. He may as well have set her inside the industrial oven because the heat would have been the same. She rocked against him, seeking more contact.
"That's right," he said, his voice dark as sin. "Rub against me. Hard."
Oh, that voice, oh, those commands.
And his hands—his hands moved over her hips and back and shoulders, then up to her face where they cupped her cheeks, holding her still so he could kiss her harder, his mouth pressing, their breaths mingling, their tongues—oh, the things his tongue did, they reminded her of how he'd told her to move her fingers between her legs.
"Margot!" Loud knocks sounded on the rear door. The voice belonged to the alpha.
She pushed Bryce away from her, shocked—shocked at what they'd done, and shocked to be taken out of the real-life fantasy so quickly.
"Jameson?" she asked, jumping off the counter and moving to the door.
Bryce turned slightly and adjusted his jeans. Margot would have smirked if she wasn't worried about the note of urgency in Jameson's voice. She unlocked the door and opened it for Jameson.
Jameson stepped inside. The kitchen lost some of its magic, and Margot realized that the building magic she'd sensed had come from her connection to Bryce. Now that Jameson had broken the spell, the magic was fainter in the air, but still present.
Looking between Bryce and Margot, Jameson said, "Sorry to interrupt."
His tone was casual, but Margot knew he was drawing conclusions. He had to pick up on the tension in the air, the remnants of whatever magic drew Margot and Bryce together.
It was pointless to lie to a shifter and tell Jameson he wasn't interrupting anything, so Margot just said, "You're always welcome here. What's up?"
"I wanted to ask how things are going here, with the bakery. You recently hired that human manager, what's her name?"
"Kim," Margot said.
"She's a capable manager?"
Margot nodded. She thought back to what Nina, Gemma, Erena, and Kayla had been talking about this morning, that he still wanted someone to go to Peru with Bryce. They'd all been thinking he'd choose another of the men to go. Wouldn't he want a second fighter?
Yes, Margot reasoned. He would want a second fighter. But with someone else gone, he'd also want to increase his patrols on the territory, and Margot had volunteered for that yesterday during the meeting in the Circle. This was why he wanted information on how her bakery was doing, because he was going to increase her patrols.
"I can definitely do more around the territory," she told Jameson. "Kim can handle things here, no problem."
"Great, thank you," Jameson said to her. Then he looked to Bryce. "I'm going to buy plane tickets tonight. You still want in on the trip?"
Bryce nodded. "I'm in."
"Would you do it even if I sent Nolan with you?" Jameson asked.
"Yes. You've probably noticed there's no love lost between the two of us, but we could work together to get a job done." Bryce didn't look as confident as his words sounded, but Margot could hear the truth in his voice.
"Excellent," Jameson said. "You'll leave in two days. I have someone who can arrange passports.”
Bryce nodded. “Thanks.”
“Also,” Jameson said, “there's a clan run tonight before dinner. Bryce, you and Ian are both invited to join us."
The smile that stretched across Bryce's face was big and genuine, and it took Margot's breath away. It came from an invitation to run with the clan. Was that all this man wanted, a place to belong?
"Thank you," Bryce said.
"See you tonight at the run, Margot," Jameson said.
She smiled. "See you."
Jameson turned and went back out the door, leaving Margot and Bryce staring at each other. She hurried over and picked up the spoon she'd dropped.
"Margot, we should talk," Bryce said.
Talking. Making words, sentences—making sense? Sense was the last thing on her mind. Already she was thinking about secret kisses in the kitchen, about Nolan's anger with Bryce, about the dark commands Bryce's voice gave her in her dreams, and everything was jumbling together.
"Later?" she asked, her voice squeaky. "When you come back from Peru. I need time to think."
"I can give you time," he said, his voice gruff with disappointment.
She couldn't look at him, and instead stared at the reflection of the counter in the gleaming metal of the spoon she held. That spot—right there—was where she had sat, kissing Bryce.
She waited until she heard him walk out the back door after Jameson. Only then did she fall to the cold concrete floor and sit, cradling the mixing spoon in her hands.
Whatever happened—or didn't happen—with Bryce, she'd never look at this spoon, or that counter, or even this damn kitchen, in the same way again.