The Reluctant Mate

31 Amanda

I sat across the table from Porter, in the very place I had been once confined. I should be upset and conflicted about being back, but instead I was just excited.

Excited and uneasy.

It was a weird combination I was getting used to when I was around Porter. But even more than that, I was sick and tired of letting my ex rule my life from the past. Why should I let him get in the way of me maybe being happy?

I finished my glass of wine and Porter poured me another.

If I drank too much, he'd just have to give me a ride home. Or not, if he didn't want to. Porter had been holding back since I had tentatively decided to try, and I was tired of all the restraint. I didn't feel entirely secure with him, and I was starting to think I never would, but that wasn't Porter's fault.

So I had a plan. I just had to numb myself enough to take the next step, and then in would get easier after that.

After supper we cleared the table and ended up sitting on the couch I had slept on, watching a movie while I nursed my wine. I cuddled up next to Porter and he seemed happy with the contact. I kept hoping he would make a move because just following his lead would be so much easier. Where did all his restraint come from? I had said I wanted to take it slow, but I hadn't meant at the speed of continental drift. Surely the man had to snap at some point. I could tell he wanted me, and shouldn't his whole werewolf bond thing make him want to take us—back—to the next level?

We sat there for the whole movie, and it was nice, although his proximity was driving me crazy. We hadn't really been alone together somewhere private since I'd decided to give him a chance and it felt like it had been way too long. I wanted to feel him again, and apparently I was going to have to initiate things. I crawled up onto his lap and straddled him, bringing my mouth to his for a kiss before he had time to react. He kissed me back, with dedication that ran down through me like lightning. He was so hot in every way.

His hands rested on my hips, as I ground into him and let my own hands wander. I could feel the hard evidence that he was as excited as I was resting between my legs, but after a few minutes of kissing with little touching on his part, he pulled himself back.

"I should take you home."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You don't need to do that."

"You're not driving. You've got most of a bottle of wine in you."

"That's not what I meant."

He obviously wanted me, so what was his problem this time? His breathing was harsh and ragged, and the aforementioned evidence of his interest had shown no sign of softening. "Which is why you should probably go home."

"I don't want to go home."

"Amanda, I can't take this all night."

"Then take me all night instead."

His eyes widened and he just stared at me like a deer in the headlights. "No."

Hurt and embarrassment flared in my chest at his refusal, but luckily anger came along to take the edge off. I scrambled off of him and glared at him from the far side of the couch. "Fine. If you don't want me here, that's fine. I'll go home. I'm trying, okay? But if that's not good enough for you, then—"

"You know I want you here, but you're half drunk and—"

"So was I the first—"

"And it was a mistake then, too." His shoulders were stiff.

"A mistake?" So we were back to this? I couldn't even be angry anymore, and that left only something much more unpleasant.

"We've been through this before. You're intoxicated. If you actually want me, you should want me sober."