Chapter 246

Chapter 246
Elsa

Drake's car smelled like leather and pine—his scent mixed with something darker, more primal. I sat rigid in the passenger seat, my nails digging into my palms as I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past. My dress fabric bunched between my fingers, twisting and untwisting in a rhythm that matched my racing thoughts.

Fuck, why did being near him still make me this nervous?

"Have you written your resignation letter yet?" Drake's voice cut through the silence, smooth and commanding, with that edge of authority that made my spine straighten involuntarily.

My jaw clenched. I turned to look at him, anger flaring hot in my chest. "I'm not resigning."

His jaw tightened, muscles flexing beneath his skin. Even in profile, I could see the predatory focus in his eyes. "Elsa—"

"I applied for a short-term assignment, not a permanent departure." I folded my arms across my chest, fingers pressing hard against my ribs as if I could physically contain the frustration building inside me. My heart hammered so loud I was sure he could hear it. "Joseph approved it this morning."

Drake's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. A low growl rumbled from his chest. "Joseph." He said the name like it tasted bitter, like poison on his tongue. "He seems particularly... accommodating when it comes to you."

Heat crept up my neck, my pulse jumping at my throat. Damn it, my body always betrayed me around him. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Drake's eyes flicked to mine, golden wolf flashing in the darkness, making my stomach clench, "that I don't like my wife working for another man who clearly has intentions."

My wife. The words still felt surreal, like a dream I might wake from at any moment. My fingers trembled slightly, and I pressed them harder against my arms. We'd registered our marriage just days ago, and already he was being possessive as hell. Part of me wanted to punch him. Another part—the stupid, traitorous part—wanted to kiss him.

"So quit," I said, surprising myself with the boldness. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Come live with me at the apartment. You can find work somewhere else."

Drake's laugh was low and rich, filling the small space between us. The sound sent unwanted shivers down my spine. Fuck. "You want me to quit being CEO of Stone Enterprises?"

"Why not?" I shrugged, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. My leg bounced nervously under my dress. "I'm sure you'd be great at... I don't know, bartending? You could work at a nightclub."

The image was so absurd that I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. Drake Stone, the feared alpha of the Black Onyx Pack, mixing drinks in some seedy downtown bar. Holy shit, that would be something.

Drake's expression shifted, his eyes dancing with amusement. "A nightclub bartender." He seemed to be genuinely considering it, one hand leaving the steering wheel to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "I could wear one of those tight black shirts, show off my arms..."

"Oh God." I pressed my hand over my mouth, laughter bubbling up despite everything. My shoulders shook. "You'd have every woman in the city lined up at the bar."

"Only if you're not there to beat them off with a stick." His hand found my thigh, warm and possessive through the thin fabric of my dress. The touch sent electricity skating across my skin, making me gasp despite myself. My body instantly responded, wetness pooling between my legs. Damn him.

I swatted his hand away, though my body screamed in protest. My breathing had gone shallow. "Keep both hands on the wheel, future bartender."

"Damn it, Elsa." But he was smiling, that rare, genuine smile that transformed his entire face. "You make it impossible to stay angry with you."

My heart stuttered. I looked away quickly, blinking against the stupid emotion burning behind my eyes.

We pulled up to my apartment building, and Drake killed the engine. Before I could reach for the door handle, he was already there, opening it for me with that old-fashioned gallantry that always caught me off guard. My knees felt weak as I stood.

In the elevator, the tension shifted. My pulse hammered in my ears. Drake's eyes darkened, tracking the rapid pulse in my throat like a predator watching prey. I pressed my thighs together, trying to ignore the ache building there. When we reached my floor, I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking, hyperaware of his presence behind me—solid, warm, overwhelming.

"The neighbors—" I started, but Drake spun me around, pressing me against the hallway wall.

"Fuck the neighbors," he growled, capturing my mouth in a kiss that stole my breath.

Oh God. My knees went weak, and I grabbed his shoulders for support. His tongue demanded entry, and I opened for him like I always did, helpless against the pull between us. I hated how easily he undid me. Hated how much I needed this.

My fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed me deeper, one hand braced against the wall beside my head, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. I could feel him hard against me, and my body responded instantly, a whimper escaping my throat.

"Drake," I gasped when he finally released my mouth, trailing kisses down my neck. My head fell back against the wall. "Someone could see—shit—"

"Let them." His teeth grazed my pulse point, making me whimper again. Fuck, I sounded desperate. "Let everyone know you're mine."

Before I could protest further, he scooped me up, one arm beneath my knees, the other supporting my back. I squeaked in surprise, automatically wrapping my arms around his neck. My heart raced so fast I thought it might explode.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Making up for the wedding night I missed." He carried me through the now-open door—when had I unlocked it?—and kicked it shut behind us.

I blinked, my brain struggling to process what I was seeing. Holy shit. The entire apartment had been transformed. Silver rose petals carpeted the floor, creating a shimmering path from the entrance to the bedroom. Candles flickered on every surface, casting dancing shadows on the walls. On the coffee table sat an ice bucket with champagne and an elegant three-tiered wedding cake, delicate silver frosting catching the candlelight.

My throat tightened, eyes stinging. "Holy shit," I breathed, my voice cracking. "When did you—how did you—"

"I have my ways." Drake set me down gently, his hands lingering on my waist. His thumbs traced small circles that made my breath hitch. "Do you like it?"

I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. Don't cry, don't cry, don't fucking cry. "It's beautiful."

His smile was smug, satisfied, utterly alpha. "Good. Because I intend to christen every surface of this apartment tonight."

Heat flooded my face—and lower. My core clenched. "That's... ambitious."

"I'm a very ambitious man, Mrs. Stone."

Mrs. Stone. Fuck, that shouldn't turn me on as much as it did. My breathing went ragged.

Drake's fingers found the zipper of my dress, slowly pulling it down. The fabric pooled at my feet, leaving me in just my bra, panties, and the black stockings I'd worn for the meeting with Miranda. Goosebumps erupted across my skin.

"These," Drake's voice was rough, his fingers tracing the lace top of my stockings, "are fucking gorgeous."