Page 6 of After the Fall
“Can we tap into the neighborhood cameras?”
“Atticus is on it. But he’s been in hiding for a long time. If he’s who he says he is, and…” his voice lowered, “he doesn’t want to be found, then he won’t be. Listen, Wyatt…” He glanced to the living room, through the open French doors, and we locked eyes. Tank’s eyes narrowed, brimming with hatred, before his attention turned back to Wyatt.
Their conversation turned to whisper, and I straightened in the chair turning my ear to the door, hoping to catch a few words. But it was impossible. Whatever they were discussing was not meant to be overheard.
My legs bounced anxiously as I sipped my Chai tea, and continued to warm up by the fire.
I’d finally given up on having my dad back in my life. Now that he’d reappeared, I was left with even more questions. And the unsettled feeling that my life was about to become even more complicated.
At night,the mansion was quiet and tranquil, a stark contrast from the noisy street where Savannah and I had lived. Wyatt paced back and forth by his bedroom door, muttering orders into his cell phone.
Hisbedroom... I guess that wasn’t accurate. I’d have to start getting used to it beingourbedroom.
Andourhome.
How had a broke reporter working two jobs, ended up with a billionaire like Wyatt Westwood? It still felt like a dream.
There were some parts that I wishedwerejust a dream, like my dad’s return. And the existence of werewolves, I thought, a shiver racing up my spine.
“No,” Wyatt yelled. “Hold off on telling V. We don’t need the South Americans getting involved yet. Not until we know what we’re dealing with. Especially after what happened with the wolves.”
He turned to where I was curled up under the thick comforter and mouthed, “Sorry.”
I gave a thumbs up and turned my attention back to my book, a thriller I’d grabbed off the shelf in the library.
“No. I promised Jax we wouldn’t contact him, for any reason,” Wyatt barked. “Besides, there’s limited reception in the Himalayas.”
After a few minutes, Wyatt hung up without saying goodbye. He set his phone on the black armoire and began changing into a pair of brown silk pajamas with a cursive WW embroidered on the pocket. They probably cost more than my rent.
“Really?” I asked, looking up from my book.
He looked at me confused.
“Since when does Wyatt Westwood wear pajamas to bed?”
His laugh was low and husky, sending goosebumps across my arms. “Since his girlfriend had a crazy…” He looked at his Rolex. “A crazy few months, if we’re being honest,” he sighed. “You’ve been through a lot, and today was just the tip of it. The last thing you need is to be tempted by these abs of steel.”
I laughed so hard it came out as a snort. “Forget the pajamas, Mr. Six-Pack.”
“Harper,” he growled. “We need to figure out a plan to keep you safe while we look into what your…” he paused, “dad warned us about.” He seemed uncomfortable at saying the word dad. Was he having doubts? “Think of the pajamas as a way to keep our minds focused.” He tapped the side of his forehead.
I slid a bookmark into the page and closed my book, setting it on the nightstand. Lifting the comforter, I patted the space beside me. “Seriously. Just ditch the pajamas and come to bed,” I groaned.
But the stubborn bastard buttoned the pajama top all the way to the collar, then crawled under the comforter, the bed shifting under his weight. The warmth radiating from his body brought the temperature up at least ten degrees.
I tugged at the hem of his top. “Really?” I leaned over, my hand grazing his cheek as I gazed into his eyes, my lips stopping inches from his. “It’s our first night living together. This is not how I pictured it going.”
His enormous hand covered mine and he sighed, before giving in and meeting my lips. The kiss started gentle, but quickly grew more fervent until we were both gasping for air.
But as quickly as he started, he stopped and pulled away. I sighed and rolled over, crossing my arms.
“Harper,” he pleaded. “I know I still have a lot to learn about human emotion, but I’m pretty sure that you went through something…” he paused, trying to find the right word,“traumatic today.” He swept his hand through his hair, only for it to fall back against his forehead. It was hard to focus on the words coming out of his perfectly sculpted lips. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you need time to process everything that’s happened.”
My arms uncrossed, flopping to my sides. “And I appreciate your concern. But right now, what I need isyou.” I bit my lip and looked into his eyes, basking in their warm glow. “I’m sure that tomorrow will bring a whole new set of feelings and emotions, but right now, all I care about is ending today with a good memory.”
He looked torn, so I made the first move. Feeling emboldened, I climbed on top and straddled him. He reached out to touch the strap of the slip I’d bought for our first night together, lingerie that Savannah had helped me pick out. His eyes, slightly hooded, moved over it in appreciation. “I like this,” he murmured, his hand running down the soft, buttery French silk.
I leaned close to his ear and whispered. “When we remember today, I don’t want it to be for any of the awful stuff. I want to remember it as the day we took a huge step and moved in together; the day you gifted me an amazing library, the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me; and…” I held up my wrist, “the day you gave me this beautiful new charm. I love it.” The tiny gold key shone in the glow of the lamp.