Chapter 237

Chapter 237
Elsa

The drive to the hotel passed in charged silence. I stared out the window, hands fidgeting in my lap, hyperaware of Drake's every breath, every subtle shift of his body beside me. By the time we reached my room, the tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife.

I told myself I would show him out, that I wouldn't repeat past mistakes, but when Drake followed me inside and closed the door behind him with a decisive click, I knew I was lying to myself.

His hands framed my face as he backed me against the wall, his kiss demanding and possessive. I struggled against my own desire, my mind screaming warnings while my body responded with embarrassing eagerness. My hands pushed against his chest before traitorously sliding up to his shoulders. His scent filled my lungs, clouding my judgment until reason gave way to raw need.

"Say you want me," he whispered against my lips, his hands already working at the buttons of my blouse, knuckles brushing against my heated skin.

"I can't," I gasped, even as my fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him closer. "Fuck, Drake, I shouldn't..."

"Liar," he murmured, his voice a velvet rumble that sent shivers down my spine and dampness between my thighs. "Say it, Elsa. Say my name."

"Drake," I breathed, hating the surrender in my voice, hating how much I wanted this—wanted him—despite everything.

"No," he said, pulling back to look into my eyes, his expression intense, pupils blown wide with desire. "Call me 'baby.'"

I froze, staring at him in disbelief, my chest heaving with ragged breaths. That level of intimacy, of affection—it was something I'd never allowed myself with him.

"I can't," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion.

His eyes darkened, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with unexpected tenderness. "You can," he insisted. "And you will."

What followed was a blur of sensation—his hands, his mouth, the heat of his skin against mine. He took me apart piece by piece, leaving me trembling and begging, until finally, in the throes of pleasure, my back arching off the bed and nails digging into his shoulders, I gave him what he wanted.

"Baby," I gasped against his shoulder, the word torn from somewhere deep inside me. "Please... oh fuck, please..."

His triumphant growl was the last thing I remembered before losing myself completely.

Hours later, exhausted and sated, my body deliciously sore in all the right places, I reached for the lamp, needing to break the spell of darkness. Drake's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me back against his chest with possessive strength. His mouth found my neck, tracing a hot path that made me shiver despite my exhaustion.

"Again?" I asked incredulously, my voice hoarse from earlier cries. "Jesus Christ, Drake..."

His only response was to roll me beneath him, his intentions clear as his hands slid down my sides to grip my hips. Despite my protests, I found myself responding, my body arching into his touch as if we hadn't spent hours tangled together already. My treacherous body seemingly couldn't get enough of him.

"We should get rings," he murmured against my skin, the words so casual I almost missed them as his teeth grazed my collarbone. "I'll put it on your finger... would you like that?"

I was too lost in sensation to register the meaning of his words until much later, when the realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. Rings? Was Drake Stone—the Black Obsidian Pack's Alpha, the man who'd kept me hidden for a decade—actually suggesting marriage? Holy shit.

The thought sent panic coursing through me like electric current. I bolted from the bed, grabbing my robe and wrapping it tightly around myself, my hands shaking violently.

"I need to shower," I said, my voice unnaturally high, almost shrill. "And then you need to go back to your room. I want to sleep alone tonight."

I didn't wait for his response, closing the bathroom door firmly behind me. As I leaned against it, heart pounding wildly in my chest, I wondered what game Drake was playing now.

The morning sun streamed through the windows of Moonlight Enterprise's headquarters as I settled back into my routine, drumming my fingers nervously against my desk. Joseph had promoted a new assistant in my absence, but our four-person team was still drowning in work.

I could feel their relief when I walked through the door, like sailors spotting land after weeks at sea. I straightened my shoulders, trying to project confidence I didn't entirely feel.

"Thank God you're back," a girl whispered as she dropped a stack of files on my desk with a heavy thud. "The Silver Moon deal is falling apart, and no one knows how to handle their representatives."

I nodded, already scanning the documents, my teeth worrying my bottom lip. "I'll call Mr. Jones this afternoon. He likes me—I can smooth things over." My fingers twitched as I sorted through the mess they'd made in my absence.

That was my value here—my ability to navigate the complex dynamics between packs. Being an omega gave me a certain diplomatic advantage; I wasn't seen as a threat. The irony wasn't lost on me. My second-class status made me more effective at my job. I snorted at the thought, shaking my head.

I welcomed the chaos, the endless meetings, the urgent calls. Anything to keep my mind off Drake and whatever the hell had happened between us at the hotel. The memory of his voice—husky and intimate as he mentioned rings—still sent shivers down my spine. I pressed my thighs together unconsciously, then cursed under my breath when I realized what I was doing. Fuck. Get it together, Elsa.

For over a week, I buried myself in work, staying late at the office and bringing files home to my apartment. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, and I'd chewed my nails down to the quick. But even with all my efforts to avoid thinking about him, Drake made his goddamn presence known.

My phone buzzed with texts throughout the day. Not just one or two messages—at least ten or fifteen daily. He sent everything from business updates to random observations:

Meeting with the board. Old Johnson fell asleep again. His snoring is getting worse with age.

Taylor visited your mother today. She's responding well to the new medication.

Oliver joined Stone Enterprises' development team. The kid's got talent.

Adopted a kitten. She hisses at everyone but me. Reminds me of you.

That last one had actually made me laugh out loud, which was fucking annoying. I caught myself smiling at the screen and quickly slammed the phone face-down on my desk. I never replied on any predictable schedule, sometimes answering immediately, other times waiting hours, pacing back and forth in my apartment before finally hitting send. Drake didn't seem to mind either way.

The strangest part was that I actually appreciated his updates about my mother and Oliver. When I texted a simple "Thank you for helping them," my fingers trembling slightly, his response came immediately:

They're important to you. That makes them important to me.