CHAPTER SIX

“Both my stomachs are full," Leah blurted, slapping a hand over her mouth to prevent the fork’s approach.

Christophe's lips twitched, "Both?"

Leah nodded. "I have two breakfast stomachs."

"And yet the contents of your fridge would suggest you never have breakfast."

The way he said it made her feel guilty, and she found herself needing to explain herself. It wasn't the first time he'd done it. Whenever Leah did anything Christophe perceived to be bad for her, he always found a roundabout way of scolding her.

Except now, he wasn't being subtle with his scolding at all. His words, tone, the slight raising of one of his eyebrows.

"I-I don't normally have time. In the mornings I mean, it's already a struggle getting to the office on time, it's...umm."

"My brother doesn't give you enough time to have breakfast?"

Leah's eyes widened in horror at the implication.

"Oh no. No. No that's…that's not at all what I meant. Of course not. Mr. Bridgeway is definitely not at fault here. He's a very...considerate boss. The best really."

Leah fumbled with a fork, realizing she was babbling, but unable to stop. "It's my fault. I should…learn... to manage my time! Yes. That's it. I should learn to manage my time better. And then I'll have time for breakfast."

Leah recognized there was something strange about this interaction. Though she didn't have much to go by, it resembled a child trying to talk herself out of trouble. She'd never met her father, he'd passed away before she was born, and her younger brother's father had skipped town before he'd been born. Her mother had never been much of a disciplinarian. She'd hardly been much of a mother.

Leah imagined that if she'd had an authoritarian figure in her life growing up, she'd have had conversations like this one whenever she wanted to talk herself out of trouble.

The fact that she was thinking of him in that position while being so attracted to him was insane. When he remained silent in that contemplative way of his, Leah couldn't look him in the eyes for very long, so her attention shifted to the table and the half empty plates that covered it.

"I'll do the dishes!" she exclaimed and abruptly jumped out of her chair.

Before she could take a step, he used her momentary imbalance to pull her down unto his lap, her butt seating precariously across one thigh. While she had been nervous and a bit frightened with Christophe's quiet intensity just moments ago, Leah found herself in a completely different situation now. Still nervous,---mortifyingly so--- but now she wasn't so much frightened of Christophe.

No.

She was frightened of the feelings that bolted to the surface the moment he'd touched her.

Just what the hell am I doing here?

"Look at me, little one," he ordered softly.

Being the grown, mature adult that she was, of course Leah's eyes immediately closed.

She heard his soft chuckle of amusement and was torn between embarrassment and … pleasure, that she'd made him laugh.

"Leah."

"I can't," she insisted.

And she couldn't. She couldn't possibly handle being this close to him and having to stare him in the eyes.

Everything about Christophe Bridgeway was designed to intimidate. From his sheer size and physicality, to the low, powerful timber of his voice. And he did intimidate her. She didn't even think he meant to, half the time, --- the other half the time, he definitely meant to. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that she liked it. She liked it far too much. There were feelings inside her that Christophe brought out. Some she hadn't even realized she'd possessed in the first place. She wasn't sure she wanted them.

Daddy will always take care of this pussy.

She remembered him whispering those words in her ears while he touched her. And even now, the memory of it caused her heart to quicken.

He'd called himself her Daddy. And it had felt so...right.

"Why?"

"I'm scared."

Apparently, today is honesty day.

Silence stretched on for a long while and Leah wondered just how long she could stay seated in his lap with her eyes closed before it became too ridiculous.

"Please look at me."

It was probably the 'please' that surprised her into opening her eyes to look at him. As domineering as he could be, he'd always been polite with her. She couldn't ever remember hearing him use that word before though. Not with her or anyone, and...her face was entirely too close to his. She could make out flecks of brown in the dark green of his eyes.

"I scare you?" There was a furrow between his brow which suggested he was worried about her answer.

How did she explain to him that yes, he scared her, but probably not in the way that he thought?

She wasn't sure she could, so her only response was to nod.

The furrow deepened.

"Are you scared I might hurt you?"

"No." She didn't have to think about her answer, though she probably should have. He was almost twice her size. And a werewolf.

While Leah couldn't imagine him deliberately using his strength against her, he could possibly hurt her unintentionally. But she couldn't even stretch her imagination to see that happening.

"Is it because of last night?"

Her checks instantly heated. Why did he have to bring that up?

Instead of answering, she asked a question of her own.

"Do you...like me?"

She had asked the question as a way of steering the conversation away from last night's happenings, but now that she'd asked it, Leah found herself holding her breath for his response.

"Was I being too subtle?"

Honestly? Asides from last night,---which she wasn't going to mention, obviously--- Colin's flirting aside, she never once thought any of the Bridgeway brothers were interested in her romantically. She'd find them staring at her sometimes, but Christophe always resembled someone trying to figure out a puzzle, so she just assumed it was a werewolf thing and she'd been doing something particularly human.

Colin was Colin, so she never took him seriously.

And Noah, he was always frowning at her so she'd always thought it was because she'd messed up an assignment he'd given her at the office.

Maybe she just didn't know how men behaved when they liked a woman.

Or how werewolves behaved.

"I was." He'd answered his own question, with her continued silence.

Before she could formulate a response, she found herself staring at the floor, from upside down.

The brute had actually thrown her over his shoulder!

She was too shocked to respond immediately, and by the time she found her tongue he was halfway up the stairs going towards her bedroom.

Panicked, Leah slapped at his back.

"What are you doing?"

"I've decided to stop being subtle."

"What?!" she screeched as her stepped into her room, "sex is not an appropriate response to the question I just asked you!"

"I'm not allowed to have sex with you," Christophe announced, finally returning her feet to the floor.

"What? Why?"

Definitely not what she meant to ask.

He grinned down at her, "are you as disappointed as I am?"

How many times in one day could someone be embarrassed until they died from it?

"What I meant was, the only person who can allow you or not allow you to have sex with me is me."

Thank goodness that came out right.

"We're all supposed to talk first. Apparently talking is important," he mumbled, his annoyed tone suggesting he wasn't a fan of the talking first approach.

And was he suggesting the four of them were to sit down and actually discuss having sex before they had sex? The entire idea was ludicrous.

It's fine. I'm leaving. I won't be here for any such 'talking'.

"But you've made an excellent point," Christophe announced. Stepping closer to her forcing her to retreat. She didn't make it very far before she felt the edge of her bed definitely her. Still he progressed, and Leah soon found herself on her back, her heart in her throat, and a grinning werewolf looming above her.

"What point?" she croaked out.

"You should be the one to make that decision."

His gaze flickered over her form beneath him and low growl of appreciation rumbled in his chest. The shirt that she'd slept in, had ridden up to expose smooth legs and dark blue, cotton panties, unadorned and molded to her skin.

Christophe noted the wet spot on the material, though he'd already scented her arousal. His gaze returned to hers.

"So, little girl," he growled. Moving close enough that his lips grazed her cheek, "am I allowed?"