The Alpha CEO’s Unloved Wife

Chapter 33

Pillow Talk 

She woke with her cheek on his chest and his fingers stroking through her hair. The day was late and both breakfast and lunch trays were on the dresser. Like her previous heat, Jane found it hard to eat or drink, her body focused on one thing alone. Baron had summed it up crudely but accurately the first heat, she thought. She needed her alpha’s c-ck, to be filled with his seed, over and over, until her body was convinced that conception had occurred and the estrus passed.

“My father is dying,” Baron said quietly. “Cancer. The result of forty years of smoking. He won’t live to see our grandchildren.”

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

“Hmm,” he pressed his face into her hair, breathing in her scent, a werewolf trait, she thought, seeking comfort from the scent of mate or family. “I want to give him the answer for his father’s murder, to restore our family, before he passes.”

She caressed his skin offering comfort. “I understand,” she said. It made sense, she thought, of his determination, of his risk taking, that he was pushing his agenda of revenge on such a time schedule. “I am sorry. I wish that I could help you.”

“My grandfather was a shrewd businessman,” he said. “Ruthless. People say that I am like him,” he was amused and proud of that. “But he had enemies. I have been investigating them first. Quite a list,” he sighed. “Down, now, to four. The four that I thought least likely, as they had least motive, and least means.”

you find nothing?” She wondered cautiously. The heat was rising, tendrils of desire curling through her, and the subtle scent of him

it would be the same with a hired lover, if the need would rise as strongly and as specifically. She had never had another she-wolf to speak to of it, Alice would never,

turned amorous, responding to the change in her scent almost automatically, becoming in tune with her needs. “And we will return to those that

watched his eyes close, the tension in his face ease into pleasure as she took him into her. His hands on her hips encouraged her to the pace and motion that he wanted, and she felt him arch his back, thrusting into her in rhythm with her

his dark, glossy curls tousled, and his strong jaw shadowed with stubble. His eyes, opening and meeting hers, caught her admiring him, and his strong, white teeth flashed

what you see?”

flushed, breathless with pleasure, the slow ache of

skin like snow, hair like night, and

he would compare her with a fairy

and rolled

himself up on an elbow, and thrusting, his fingertips tracing her cheekbone and his expression gentle. “My little omega,” he murmured, and groaned as she came, clutching him to her. She felt the hot rush of his seed, the sensation adding to her

cheek on his bicep. “You still have not told me who bruised your face

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