She folded her arms and jutted her hip to the side. “What have I said about using my middle name? Look, we didn’t drag our friends all the way out here to isolate them in some godforsaken cabin in the middle of nowhere while we’re busy having primal sex.”
Austin had no doubt the other couples were engaging in their own mating rituals—perfectly happy to spend time alone for the rest of the trip. He sensed Lexi was creating a diversion. She’d been doing it since they arrived two days ago, always finding something to do whenever he got aroused.
“If that’s the way you want it,” he said gruffly, folding his arms and turning away. “Guess I don’t care to see what’s in your bag, either.”
She laughed brightly and snatched the handle, swinging the bag around as she strutted toward the ladder to the loft. “You obviously didn’t see everything in here.”
“What makes you say that?” Images of Lexi in those lacy panties flitted through his mind, and he gripped the chair, caging his growl when he swung his gaze up and saw her naked at the top of their loft.
“Because, Mr. Cole, if you had seen everything in this bag, you’d already be up here having your way with me. But since you’re not interested,” she sang, moving out of sight.
The next thing he knew, his blue flannel shirt came flying over the edge and landed on a lampshade, followed by his dark-wash jeans.
“All right, smartass,” he shouted, changing clothes in the middle of the cabin. “We’ll do your formal chili dinner with everyone, make Vampire jokes, and then we’ll have drinks. But once they’re gone, you have a date with everything in that bag, and I’m the chaperone.”
“Dream on,” she replied.
He zipped up his jeans. “And that’ll be the song we make love to.”
Chapter 1
I have three weaknesses in this world: chocolate milk, combustible sex, and Austin Cole. All six foot three of him.
During our vacation, I’d had plenty of chocolate milk and Austin Cole, but the spontaneous romance was another story. First, I conjured up a migraine. Next, I suffered from a relentless stomachache. Each time Austin grew amorous, I would either develop a new ailment or find something else to keep us busy.
I swirled my spoon in the bowl of chili, thinking that I should have postponed the vacation. Halfway to Colorado, I’d felt the familiar warmth of precursory tingles that signaled I was going into heat soon. Most women couldn’t predict with a crystal ball, fortune cookie, palm reader, or Mayan calendar when heat spells would strike. And trapped with my hot mate in an isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere was the last place on earth I wanted to be during my cycle.
Women were more likely to become pregnant while in heat, and after my miscarriage earlier that year, I realized Austin had been right all this time about postponing a family. I hadn’t told him about that particular incident, but he’d been by my side during the other times and accepted the losses with quiet humility. I was still a young wolf with many more centuries ahead of me, and a Relic once suggested that I might be able to carry to full term someday.
Maybe.
Despite the risks, I wanted kids, and my ovaries had been singing Austin’s praises over the past couple of days. Every time he walked by without his shirt on, I heard the tune “We Will Rock You” in my head with all the clapping and foot stomping, and all I wanted to do was climb on top of him and claim what was mine.
My worst fear was that someday he might leave me over this. Shifters mated for life, but nothing could have prepared Austin for the challenges we faced as a couple. A Packmaster led by example and had to appear strong and infallible so the pack would follow him. Animals could sense weakness, and besides, I just couldn’t bear the thought of his brothers looking upon him with pity in their eyes instead of respect. I loved Austin too much, and this twist in the road was unfair to a man like him.
I was born to be a mother, and I was willing to take all the losses if it meant only one gain. Just one. But another miscarriage would only serve as a painful reminder to Austin that he might never be a father, so it would be selfish to keep trying. It was hard to remember the joy of pregnancy when my mate acted as if I’d just contracted a terminal illness and had nine months to live.
Then again, maybe he just had an aversion to poopy diapers. When Izzy’s kids were babies and needed a diaper change, Austin would pull a disappearing act.
“Holy smokes, this is spicy!” April gulped down her ice water and then pressed the glass against her flushed face. “Forget three-alarm chili; you need to call this the Level Red Special.”
Reno belted out a laugh. Level Red was the code the men in the pack sometimes used when there was trouble. “Tastes fine to me, princess. I like it hot,” he replied suggestively.
April whispered in my ear, “Whose idea was the chili?”
“When Austin volunteers to cook, I don’t ask questions,” I whispered back, sliding my gaze up to Austin, who sat at the opposite end of the table.