Chapter 37

"Wait a minute!" I put a hand against his chest. "I didn't say yes. In fact, no."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

He was looking at me in confusion, the apron half pulled off over his head, the cupcakes cooling on the rack beside him mixing with his scent and overwhelming me with delicious smells.

Yes, what do you mean no, Elena? Are you crazy?

His eyes cleared in realization. "Elena, I meant spend the night on the couch. What did you think I meant?"

I felt stupid, but gestured at the apron which he was still removing.

"Oh." He paused and thought. Then he smiled.

"Okay, yes, I admit it probably looked like I was stripping right now in front of you but I promise I'm a more subtle lover."

I nodded, mute, thinking maybe it wasn't such a horrible thing if he stayed after all. He sensed my vacillating and stepped closer.

"Even if you stay on the couch..." My voice came out in a squeak. I cleared my voice and started again. "Even if you stay on the couch, it will look a certain way."

"Who is going to know?"

"All my neighbors, for one. Then the office when we show up together. And I wonder if my scent would make any impact on yours if you're in my house so much? Craig didn't think so, but we don't actually know, and if it did, than everyone you encountered would know you were with me."

He paused, and I could see he was thinking. My stomach dropped further. Part of me had hoped he wouldn't mind if people knew. But it seemed that he was still ashamed of being associated with me.

Like Craig, my old boss, he thought he could use me and not have any consequences of being in a relationship. Use me and discard me.

My heart sank further.

"And honestly," I added, my voice coming out in a near whisper. "If you don't want people to know, then what are you doing here at all?"

"I thought I made it clear, Elena. I don't have a choice."

I was hurt even while I knew I was being unfair. He had indeed been clear. I had known the situation, but lately his behavior had led me to believe there was more to our relationship than scent slave and Alpha.

"This is helpful," I said, trying to recover some dignity and footing. "It's good to be reminded of our relationship. So I'm a big scent machine and nothing more?"

He leaned against the counter, his eyes narrowing. "I said the other night that I was going to protect you."

"You also said I have friends. Does that include you?"

His eyes lightened a little, as if he were relieved to have an answer that sounded easy and satisfactory to all involved.

"Of course, Elena."

"Then friends respect other people's lives and choices. Friends don't treat friends like scent slaves."

"I feel like I've been doing a good job at that," he said, putting a hand out and touching the cupcakes to see how much they had cooled. "Wouldn't you say I'm being more open with you? Wouldn't you also agree that a friend wouldn't let another friend who is in danger stay alone?"

I nodded my head. I wanted to cry, but he was right. Any hope I had was totally unfounded and absolutely my fault for getting wrong.

"I'm just worried about our reputations. I guess if people think certain things about you using me physically it doesn't hurt you, but females like me get judged. It can affect my life, to be the female Charles Rafe used and threw away."

He looked about to argue, but then nodded his head.

"I'm not used to compromising," he said, looking at me.

"I know."

"But I need this relationship to work."

"I understand."

"So how about we frost these cupcakes and I stay until I'm sure you'll be safe, and then my driver picks you up for work in the morning."

It sounded like a wonderful compromise. I might have even come out on top but I didn't dare say that to an Alpha who lived to be dominant.

"That sounds good," I said, still sad he didn't find me worthy of being seen together in public, but determined to get over it.

"So," he said. "What do you do in the evenings without your boss––I mean your old high school friend­­––butting in?"

I smiled. "Read, listen to music, watch tv."

"There's a playoff hockey game on tonight," he said, perking up a little. "Do you watch hockey?"

"I do. Let's watch it!"

I pulled out the tubs of frosting and handed him a knife, then went over the television and switched it on, searching for the game.

When I looked back he had spread frosting in a perfect, thin layer across the top.

"Can I do one for myself?" I asked.

He handed me the knife and I tripled the amount of frosting he had, and slathered it imperfectly across top.

"Woah, is that legal?" he asked.

"Try it." I held it out and he took it, biting into it. His eyes rolled back dramatically.

"Yum," he murmured. He nodded at my cupcake. "I see that your frosting to cake ratio is sound. We must change the system."

I laughed as he went back and re-frosted the cupcakes.

When we finished, we took the plate to the couch and he polished off a half dozen while we watched the first period of the hockey game. During the break I got up to clean and he followed me, watching as I got out the soap and started running the hot water in the sink.

"I remember doing this for my mom," he said. "But since I've been an adult, I've had people to do this kind of thing."

"You sound regretful about that," I said, trying not to laugh. Regretting doing the dishes would be such a rich-person problem.

"Oh no, I don't regret it," he said. "All the same, there is something about being with people and doing the basics of life together."

He hip-checked me gently and grabbed the sponge.

Together we washed and dried, and then put the dishes away. He ate another two cupcakes, and we went back to the game.

When I went to sit down, however, he got in behind me on the couch, then shifted us both so he was in the corner with me in front of him. He grabbed a blanket and I found myself enveloped in fleecy softness from the front and his warm, hard body from the back.

His arms went around me and pulled me close. For a moment I couldn't breathe, I was so overwhelmed with his scent, with feelings about what was happening.

His head dipped and his chin and nose rested in my hair. He rumbled deep in his chest and I felt bliss wash over me. I begin to relax and leaned back into him.

I was hyper aware of his breathing, of his arms across my chest and torso. He was so strong, there was nothing to stop him overpowering me, of forcing himself on me. I had very little choice about our seating arrangement, and yet he was gentle.

I found myself suddenly wishing he wouldn't be gentle, that he would indeed overpower me against his own wishes and admit he wanted me too much, that he would forget how it would reflect back on him to be seen as my mate.

I told myself to stop thinking, to enjoy the moment. I snuggled back into him and inhaled his scent, my eyes closing and forgetting all about the hockey game.

When the third period was almost over I noticed something change. His breathing came regular and deep, his body less hard around me.

I smiled as a quiet single snore came from next to my ear and then continued with the deep breathing. As the game ended, I slowly, gently disengaged from his warm arms, trying to leave the blanket intact so he didn't feel my lack of heat.

I stood and looked down at him. His face in sleep was just as beautiful, but when he was relaxed and calm he looked younger than he seemed when dressed in his suit at the office.

It took all my self-control not to reach out and caress his face and hair. Instead, I turned off the television, then crouched and tucked the blanket around him, marveling at his full lips and the length of his dark lashes against his face.

There was no way I could wake him. He looked too peaceful. Instead, I tiptoed away toward my room, pausing for a moment to look back. I could see his head resting against my couch pillows, and I smiled before continuing to my room to sleep.