Chapter 5

My cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a palpable heat rising within me as I grappled with the innate loathing I harbored for these creatures. Yet, deep down, I had to concede that they possessed an unmatched prowess when it came to pleasing a woman. It felt like a bitter irony I could hardly bear to acknowledge.

"Soon enough, everything will unfold," I spoke softly into the phone, glancing furtively toward the closed office door where my husband was busy in the next room. "I had to come here to talk to you, under the pretense of working. If I step out now, he will certainly grow suspicious of my whereabouts." My voice dropped to a whisper, laden with secrets. It had been far too long since my husband had touched me—the warmth of his affection had withered away like autumn leaves, leaving me with unfulfilled needs. Yes, there were moments I found solace in Jackson's embrace. It wasn't just physical; it was a clever ruse that assured my husband of my feigned devotion.

"What are you wearing right now?" Jackson asked, his voice a seductive rumble that sent shivers down my spine. Each word pulled me in, an intoxicating invitation I found hard to resist. I felt my pulse race at his request, a swirling blend of shyness and thrill igniting within me, like fireworks dancing in the night sky. I bit my lip, savoring this delicious tension, contemplating how to respond. Each syllable exchanged was like a spark, igniting a growing heat that enveloped us.

With a playful tone, I responded, "I'm just in a simple camisole." My fingers glided over my skin almost instinctively, accentuating the soft fabric that brushed against my curves—both comforting in its familiarity and exhilarating in its daring allure. "It's delicate and barely there, skimming over my body like a gentle caress."

I could almost hear him draw in a sharp breath, his imagination conjuring the image of me—my silhouette painted through the delicate threads of my words. The sound of desire thickened his voice, making it deeper and more textured—like velvet cloaked in ice. "You must look absolutely breathtaking," he murmured, and I could feel the weight of his yearning even across the distance. "I can't help but envision my hands tracing the contours of your body, exploring every exquisite inch."

As the conversation unfolded, drizzling soft, heated words onto the canvas of the night, we ventured further into a realm where our fantasies took flight. He urged me to articulate my feelings, and I became lost in a montage of sensations igniting within me—a metaphorical fire that crackled and danced between us.

"I feel alive," I breathed, each word imbued with urgency, relishing the waves of electricity coursing through me. "Every nerve in my body feels like it's singing, yearning for your touch."

Jackson let out a low chuckle, a sound smooth and resonant that slithered through the phone, enveloping me like a warm caress. "Imagine me there with you, my lips trailing softly down your neck, my hands gliding over the satin-like fabric of your skin," he whispered, his voice thickening with intensity and unfulfilled promise.

In that breathless moment, my heart raced, and my body tingled with anticipation as if he were right there with me. The distance melted away, and I could almost feel the warmth of his breath ghosting across my skin. This was no ordinary phone call; it was a mesmerizing dance of passion, where every exchanged word painted vivid pictures of desire that stirred a fire within me—both thrilling and intoxicating. Outside, the world continued on, oblivious and unaware, as our private universe enveloped us in a cocoon of longing and desperation.

I knew I should despise him, and there were moments I genuinely did. But desire has a way of clouding judgment, of blurring the lines between love and hatred. I craved the taste of the wolf—his essence tantalizingly close to my lips—but I was determined that before my husband could ever uncover the truth, I would ensure the wolf met his end.