All Chapters of LORENZO, MY FATHER'S BEST FRIEND : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

NICKThe pack meeting drags on forever.Lorenzo's talking about border patrols, territory markers, some dispute with the northern pack that I should probably care about but can't focus on.All I can think about is Eli. Back at the house. Probably cooking something, wearing my clothes, looking like he belongs there.Like he's mine.Six more days.Six days until Olandria comes home and everything falls apart."Nick? You with us?"I blink. Lorenzo's staring at me, eyebrows raised."Yeah. Sorry. What?""I asked if you wanted to take point on the northern negotiations.""Sure. Whatever you need."Lorenzo frowns but doesn't push it. The meeting wraps up fifteen minutes later and I'm halfway to my truck when I hear his voice behind me."Nick. Hold up."Shit.I turn. He's walking toward me with that look on his face—the one that says he's about to ask questions I don't want to answer."What's up?" I try to sound casual."That's what I'm wondering." He stops in front of me, arms crossed. "You'

ELI Three days. Seventy-two hours. Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes until she walks through that door and our world implodes. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, notebook in front of me, pen in hand. Nick's across from me, coffee going cold in his mug. We're supposed to be planning what to say to her. We've been sitting here for forty minutes and the page is still blank. "Okay." Nick clears his throat. "Let's try again. We sit her down, and we say—" "Olandria, we need to talk about something important." My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. "Right. And then?" "Then we... what? We tell her we've been fucking for three weeks?" "We don't say it like that." "Then how DO we say it?" I throw the pen down. "There's no good way to tell your best friend you've been screwing her father." "He's not—" Nick stops. Takes a breath. "I'm not really her husband. Not like that." "She won't see it that way." "I know." We sit in silence. The clock on the w

Day 25. Two days left. I'm trying to cook dinner. Trying to focus on something normal. But Nick keeps touching me. His hand on my lower back as he reaches past me for a glass. His body pressing against mine when he checks what I'm making. His lips on my neck when I'm stirring the pasta. "Stop," I say. But I don't mean it. "Can't." His teeth graze my earlobe. "Can't keep my hands off you." "We need to eat—" "Don't care about food." His hand slides under my shirt. Warm palm against my stomach. "Nick—" "Tell me to stop." His hand goes lower. "Tell me you don't want this." I can't. Because I do want it. Want him. All the time. I turn off the stove. Turn to face him. "Here?" I ask. "Right here." He kisses me hard. Hands already working at my jeans. Gets them open and shoved down to my thighs. "Turn around," he says. "Hands on the table." I do. Bend over the same table where we ate breakfast this morning. Where we've shared dozens of meals like a nor

LEXI I wanted to fuck my professor. There. I said it. Thought it. Admitted it to myself in the silence of my dorm room at three in the morning when sleep wouldn't come because all I could think about was his hands. Professor Damon Cross had hands that could break a man's neck. I'd seen him demonstrate it in Combat Training—swift, efficient, brutal. The kind of hands that spoke of violence and control. And I wanted them on me. God, I was so fucked. Not literally. Not yet. But mentally? Emotionally? I'd been fucked since the first day I walked into his class and he looked at me like I was nothing special. Like being Lorenzo's daughter didn't mean shit to him. It shouldn't have turned me on. But it did. --- Let me back up. My name is Lexi Morales, and I'm eighteen years old. Freshly graduated from Silverpine High, daughter of Alpha Lorenzo, and currently enrolled in the most prestigious werewolf training academy in North America. I should be focused on my studies. On proving I

"Tell me you don't want me," I said. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think about me. And I'll walk away. I'll pretend this conversation never happened." His jaw clenched. "Lexi—" "Say it." "I can't." "Why not?" "Because it would be a lie." My breath caught. "I think about you," he admitted, voice rough. "Every fucking day. Every night. When I should be grading papers or planning lessons or doing anything else, all I can think about is you." "Then do something about it." "I can't—" "Yes, you can." I reached up, placed my hand on his chest. Felt his heart pounding. "You can touch me. You can kiss me. You can—" He grabbed my wrist. "Stop." "Why?" "Because if you keep talking, I'm going to do something we'll both regret." "What if I want you to?" "You don't know what you're asking for." "Then show me." For a long moment, he just stared at me. At war with himself. Then he let go of my wrist and stepped back. "Go back to your dorm, Lexi." "No." "That wasn't a r