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Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge Book 1)(13)

By:T. S. Joyce


Blaire wasn't the good girl she claimed to be. She had some bad girl in  her, too. Fucking sexy little tattoo that probably stayed hidden most of  the time. He wanted to kiss it and make her let off that soft moan she  had when he'd whispered up against her ear in the store. She'd been so  wet for him last night. He could smell her pheromones now. She was  probably soaking her panties for him, and all he'd done was stand close  to her. Good Blaire, reacting to him the way he needed her to.

"Have you heard a word I've said?" she asked, arching her ruddy brows at him.

"No," he said honestly. "I was thinking about last night."

Blaire jerked upright, and her cheeks instantly colored with the  prettiest pink he'd ever seen. "Dirty stuffs?" she asked innocently.

"Yep."

"You swear you don't have a girlfriend before we continue this conversation."

Gentry chuckled darkly. "Trouble, no woman has ever been willing to put  up with my shit. You're free and clear to chase me." What was he doing?  He shouldn't be encouraging the flirting, but he couldn't help himself.  She was so damn fun to mess with, and that sexy blush was staining her  cheeks even darker now. It made him want to say filthy things to her.

"I chased a man once, and it didn't work out so well."

"Your ex?" he asked, trying for nonchalance, but his fists clenched up  in his pockets with the urge to choke the shithead who hurt her.

"Yep. I've realized chasing men isn't for me. Maybe this time I want to be chased."

The vision of her as a pretty white rabbit and him as a big bad wolf  flashed across his mind. If she knew what kind of monster he was, she  would never say things like that.

Blaire popped the trunk of her rental car, and as tempting as it was for  him to stand back and perv-watch how her ass pressed against her tight  jeans, he couldn't let her work alone. Instinct wouldn't allow it, so he  helped, then shut the trunk when they were done. "Get in the car and  turn the heater on. I'll get rid of the cart."

Her eyes got all mushy like he'd done something heroic, and Gentry  couldn't help the smile that took his face as he pushed the cart into  the line with the others. He really liked making her happy. He also  liked that she was easily pleased. Blaire suited him.

He jogged back over to her car, scanning the parking lot for any prying  eyes because he couldn't stand the thought of not saying goodbye for  some reason. He shouldn't do this. It was dangerous and could get them  both hurt, but Gentry couldn't stop the urge to touch her.                       
       
           



       

So he leaned into the open window, kissed her, pushed his tongue into  her mouth in a single stroke just to taste her, then sucked on her lip  hard and eased out of her car. It was a second of intimacy, but the  stunned smile on her lips made it worth the risk.

"See you in Hunter Cove," he said through a smirk as he stepped back.

Blaire was just sitting there, touching her lips with her fingertips,  staring at him with those pretty green eyes. "Okay. Thank you."

Thank you? Gentry's smirk deepened to a Grinch smile. He'd kissed her  into shock or something. God, he'd never wanted a woman like he wanted  her. Trouble, trouble, trouble.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as she eased out of the parking spot,  and then just like at the cabin when she'd driven away from him, Gentry  watched her go until he couldn't see her anymore.

Inside of him, Wolf howled to go after her.

Blaire didn't have to worry. She was definitely going to be chased.





Chapter Nine




Blaire flipped the page over and began reading the next. This manuscript  was rough, but she was really trying to stick with it through chapter  three at least to give the author a chance to find her stride. Blaire  had been an acquisitions editor for years but had only found a couple of  breakout authors. Her boss called her "too picky in this market," but  the only thing that kept her motivated to keep going at this career was  the idea that there was some unknown author out there with a hidden  brilliance who just needed a shot. She wanted to be a part of a career  like that. She wanted to be the one to breathe life into that first  manuscript and help push the author onto the first leg of their journey  to the top of the mountain.



The studly studmuffin laved his lick-pad up her stomach, and pumped his  fishing rod faster into her tackle box. Suddenly he howled out her name  as his baby gravy sprayed into her echoing treasure cavern …



Nope. Blaire slammed the first couple of chapters back on top of that  horrifying page in a desperate attempt to evict the words "baby gravy"  from her mind for eternity. She'd had high hopes about this one, but  once again, she would be sending a rejection letter. That was the  downside to her job. She was a dream-crusher to many in her quest to be a  dream-maker for one.

She heaved a sigh and stared out the window again. Gentry had been gone  all day. She'd had all these plans to make dinner, entice him over with  the rich smell of pasta, and then possibly seduce him because, despite  the fishing rod reference her poor mind had just been exposed to, she  was in a constant state of arousal.

That would be one Gentry Striker's fault.

But he'd been MIA, and she'd had a vacation dinner for one and a big  glass of wine. Before she'd left home, Blaire had printed out a dozen  manuscripts thinking it would be romantic to read actual paper books  while on her snowy vacation, but she didn't feel like working tonight.  She felt like more kisses, like the one Gentry had surprised her with in  the grocery store parking lot.

She couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop touching her lips and  imagining the way his mouth felt and tasted. The way his short facial  scruff felt against her soft skin, or the way her stomach did flip-flops  when Gentry had pushed his tongue past her lips.

She hadn't been kissed like that in … well … ever. The way she was with Gentry couldn't be compared to anyone else, not even Matt.

Her phone lit up and vibrated against the counter in front of her.  Ashlyn's name came across the caller ID, and Blaire smiled as she  answered. "Yes, I'm still alive, no I didn't get lost for long, and no,  I'm not working. Anymore."

"Ew, Hayward, please tell me you didn't bring manuscripts with you on freaking vacation."

"I can't help it. I left for this trip last minute, and I wasn't caught up. I have deadlines, you know."

Ashlyn made a gagging sound.

"I do have something that will make you happy, though."

"Good, my day sucked balls. I need good news."

"Wait, what happened?"

"Gary from the office downstairs asked me out again."

"Butt-grab Gary?"

"Yes, he won't take no for an answer, and I got stuck, literally stuck,  in the elevator with him this afternoon. I'm pretty sure he was the one  who pulled the alarm. He tried to kiss me. I almost pepper-sprayed him."

"Ash, it's time to go to HR about him."

"Yeah I know, but I hate being a whiny rat. I wanted to handle it on my  own and just be done with it. Tell me good news so I can stop imagining  his fish lips coming at my face."                       
       
           



       

"Okay, okay, guess who I called a little while ago?"

"I swear to God if you say Matt, I'm going to reach through the phone and give you two purple nurples."

Blaire covered her nipples protectively on instinct. Ashlyn didn't bluff  about that stuff. "No! I called that realtor you told me about.  Andrew."

Ashlyn gasped really loud into the phone. "Say it fast, Hayward."

"I'm putting the house on the market."

Ashlyn crowed like a rooster so loud Blaire had to pull away the phone.  "Finally ladies and gents, she is moving on from Matt the Chode!"

"Don't call him that. He was family for a long time, and he wasn't so bad."

"Cough, cough, bullshit, you are too forgiving. You should move to my apartment complex. We can be neighbors."

Blaire giggled and leaned her elbows on the counter. "I haven't thought  about where I want to live yet, but I'll start looking when I get back."

In a softer voice, Ashlyn said, "I knew this vacation would be good for  you. I just had this feeling when I was looking for cabins that this one  was special. And look. Day one of getting out of here and out of that  damn house you used to share with him, and you already sound so much  happier."

And here was the moment. It was the moment she was supposed to tell  Ashlyn about Gentry because, really, he could be credited with starting  the change in her. Oh, she had no grand illusions about them ending up a  couple and having a hundred babies and growing old together, but he'd  made her realize something pivotal. She wasn't dead, and neither was her  heart. And holding on to Matt would only hurt possible relationships in  the future. Gentry made her want better. He made her want companionship  again, flirting, sex, affection, having someone be there to ask how her  day was, and her listen to their day in return. She wanted someone to  eat meals with, and that wasn't going to happen in a house full of the  ghost of her broken marriage.