Vanessa had rolled her eyes, snorting at the other woman’s words. “The reason is that he’s a fucking asshole,” she answered succinctly. “That’s not hard to figure out at all. A cocky, egotistical asshole. But he gets away with it because he’s hot and he probably has a big dick. Besides, it’s not fair to call someone that looks like that a boy, whether he fucks around or not.”

Every bit of it was true. He was arrogant and sharp, onerous and demanding and a mega fucking asshole . . . and all of those things, combined with his flashing eyes and steely smiles, were apparently her Achilles’ heel. It was humiliating to contemplate.

Her original desk had been far away from his office, but now she had been moved up several floors, and there were some afternoons Vanessa was positive she could smell him through the vents.

The scent of his wolf seemed to send curling, black tendrils beneath her desk, licking up her legs and tickling her clit every time he was in the vicinity, and now that she had been given a chance to do work on one of the more prominent cases, it was ten times worse. She despaired over what might

happen if she were ever called to sit behind him in court the week of the moon, with a shallow heat simmering in her veins. Your honor, I’m not on his lap because of the case; it’s just that I need to cock warm him until the change, or I’ll go crazy. Surely the multi-species disabilities act covers that.

In retaliation, she preferred to fill her fantasies of him with scenarios of total control — her control. Every time a file was sent back to her because he wanted the same findings reannotated in a different color, she tried to imagine what he would look like stripped naked and bound in latex, strapped to one of those German torture porn tables, shiny black encasing his solid pectorals and heavy arms, whimpering while she edged his cock. When he made some cutting comment about her lack of beneficial experience, she wondered if he would still be as bossy and sharp with the spike of her heel pressing into the seam of his scrotum, which she imagined to be fat and full, for anyone with as much arrogance as he possessed would indeed be testing the strength of his fly every waking moment. Her favorite daydream involved watching his arrogant expression fade, aloofness replaced with panic when his airway constricted, suffocating slowly as she rode his perfectly chiseled face until he was purple and unconscious.

It was for the best that she’d not done something foolish to act on her attraction, and even better that he’d not either. She didn’t need to be embroiled in some HR scandal that would follow her for the rest of her career. Her wolf didn’t quite understand that, though, and she whined every month when the full moon neared, certain she could hear the pulsing in his balls and taste the heft of his cock on the air. All of her control fantasies fell away, and she could think of nothing other than the way he would dominate her in bed and fill her with his knot, the way he dominated opposing counsel in the courtroom — cooly confident, always in control. She’d always had a competency kink, and he set it on fire.

“I grew up in a human neighborhood, actually, so there wasn’t much space for celebrating the holidays,” she explained, unsure why she was doing so, knowing he would likely have something shitty to say in response. Instead, his brow softened, almost imperceptibly.

“Were you—”

“No,” she answered quickly, already knowing he was going to ask if they had been eclipsed, werewolves hidden amongst humans, and she shook her head with her own tight smile. “I was raised to be proud of what I am. Proud . . . but quiet. You know how it is.” She wasn’t sure that he did, actually, but his eyes sparkled as she went on. “And besides, the few parties I went to at school left much to be desired.”

“Well, I suppose you’re going to need to get on the guest list for an actual celebration, in that case,” he quipped lightly. “We need to get you caught up. You don’t need to be quiet anymore, rabbit.”

She wondered how quiet he was, if he moaned when he came or if he was stoic and silent, face turning red as his cock spurted, vocalizing nothing.

“We may actually manage to turn you into a civil litigator yet.”

“Five times,” she exclaimed indignantly, throwing her hands up, the sight of that dimple appearing beside his perfect smile making her stomach swoop. “I’ve now gone to trial five times more than your three most senior litigators combined. I think we’ve dispensed with the ‘yet’ part of that. And why a rabbit?”

It was meant to be an insult, surely; an indictment of her work, appearance, and ability. She knew that was likely true, but the knowledge didn’t detract from the giddy reality that Grayson Hemming had a pet name for her, even if it was meant to cut her down. She’d worked too hard all these months proving herself, had fought tooth and claw for a chance to reach that chair behind him at trial, and now that she was there, Vanessa decided she wasn’t inclined to leave.

“Is that because I’m just so sweet and innocent looking in the courtroom? Men are easily fooled, you know. Did it ever occur to you that maybe that’s why I’ve been to trial five times more than your best guys?”

His answering chuckle was a low rumble, a dark curl that seemed to slip its way between her thighs with ease, reverberating against the wetness it found. Her breath caught when he rose, moving with the same unhurried confidence he displayed in the courtroom. The pale color of his shirt was blinding next to his lightly tanned skin, the fabric taut, straining as he shrugged his jacket back on. Her lungs tightened, and she realized she was holding her breath as he crossed the room, moving in what she could only describe as a swagger. She wondered if he could smell how drenched she was already, the mere sight of his loosened tie enough to make her wolf writhe, raising her ass and presenting herself willingly.

She'd quaked when he lowered his nose into the dark tangle of her hair until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. She could smell him — the subtle expensiveness of his aftershave, the bourbon on his breath, the heat roiling off him. The wild, untamed smell of his wolf made hers whimper, and the thought of his jaws at her throat, his knot stretching her open and sealing her shut . . . Vanessa tightened her grip on the arm of her chair, sure she was about to slide off. No way he doesn’t smell that.

“Because you smell like prey.” His voice was a low hiss in her ear, a bolt of lightning straight to her cunt, and she could feel the self-satisfied smirk into which his lips curled, not pulling away.

“Good enough to eat.”

* * *

Chapter Three

“S o you don’t actually know.”

His words were impatient, the hand that jerked towards the door an aggravated dismissal as if she were nothing but one of the researchers. Her forehead wrinkled at his sharp tone, hands tightening around the file folder she carried as she shook her head.

“No, that’s not what I said—”

“You said ‘maybe,’” he interrupted, head lifting to pin her in place with his icy glare.

“‘Maybe’ isn’t an answer. ‘Yes, we have it,’ or ‘no, we don’t.’ Do you see the difference? I need absolutes. We’re not going into court with a pocketful of ‘maybes.’ Do we have the signatures, or don’t we?”

Her back stiffened, the desire to hit him with the folder making her arm shake. Hit him and mess up that perfect fucking hair.

“I said maybe Johanna hasn’t emailed you yet, but they signed everything this morning. If only you’d let me finish my sentence before needing to bite my head off over nothing.”

“Maybe you need to communicate your thoughts a bit more concisely.”

“Or maybe we just need to fuck and get it out of our systems.”