Lycan Alpha Claim 3 by Tamara Rose Blodgett, Marata Eros Page B

flattening.
    But he knows nothing. What Mick senses as contrary simply is what it is. I'm not playing hard to get, I'm simply calling out the shots of whatever this is. I don't have time to play metaphorical chess with him. I have patients to help and dances to grind through to get my mom in a place where I won't have to worry.
    In all that, I can't lie to myself and say I don't want what he offers. McKenna doesn't have to know about me. He won't care anyway. A man like him can have anyone he wants.
    The wine comes, and he swirls his sample around, stealing a breath from the top. After McKenna’s imperceptible nod, the waiter fills the glass the rest of the way and leaves to give us time to drink without ordering right away.
    I look away from Jared for the first time that evening and gaze into the black velvet view. The sky is sprinkled with stars, some of their glory stolen by the lights of the city. The slowly spinning top of the Space Needle gives us bites of the beautiful city in appetizer-sized chunks. 
    “I'm not playing a game,” Mick says.
    I turn back to him, shaking my head. “I don't think so... Mick.” I gather up my courage. “You're not guilty. You're a rich guy. Really rich.” His smile fades, and I almost feel bad about what I'm going to say. “You can have any woman, and a lot of them will say yes because of what you are rather than who.”
    He nods, but his face takes on a grim edge.
    “I don't care about your money.” I've never meant anything more.
    He sees it and can't hide his surprise. “I believe you. I don't know why... but you're different than the others.” He takes an unhurried sip of wine, his eyes gleaming at me over the crystal rim.
    “Than the others?”
    He spreads his large hands away from his body. “I didn't mean there's been a bevy of women.”
    My eyes lift to his.
    He has the grace to look embarrassed. “There have been other women, of course.”
    “Yes, I'm aware.” I mean, look at him!
    “There's nothing I can do to not be what I am. I'll never meet anyone on equal footing.”
    “Well tonight's your lucky night.”
    His brows shoot to his hairline. When the waiter returns, Mick’s hard glance makes him meld into the background again. I don't try to hide my smile. Mick’s is sure of people's acquiescence. It's kind of disturbing. But I'm so off-kilter I can roll with whatever this strange night throws my way.
    “Oh really?” he asks. His face shows he hasn’t been surprised in a long time. About anything.
    “Yes.” My hands are beyond damp. I'm so sure, yet so nervous. “We can date.”
    “Who says I want to date you?”
    I'm not going to outline the method to the madness. Maybe it's just a fancy way of substituting dating for screwing to him because there's an historical precedent; where there is none for me.
    “Please.” I lean forward, my forearms pressing against the tablecloth. “You say you're not guilty, you're so rich you probably poop one hundred dollar bills in your 24K toilet, and you’ve been with so many women they're quantified as 'others'.”
    Mick cocks his chin back and laughs, full throated from his chiseled belly. “Tell me how you really feel.”
    The corners of his eyes crinkle, and I smile at him.
    It's so liberating to say what I think. I wish I'd tried it before.
    “I want to know why you want a girl like me. When you can have anyone.”
    Mick searches my face again before his eyes dip to the cleavage I offer him with my posture. I don't move; I let him take it in. His eyes rove up my arms, delicately constructed with fine muscles from ballet and athletics. Finally that gaze continues to my hair that looks like melting caramel in candlelight.
    Mick's eyes lock with mine. “I don't want anyone.”
    He wants me. It's in his face, the determined set of his jaw. Those eyes that never waver, soften, or fall from mine with the rawness of my words.
    In fact, if I were to guess, I'd say the enigma I represent is part of it. Though he