Free Gone With the Wolf by Kristin Miller

think that’s a good idea.” Somewhere in his mansion, Mozart began to play, trickling soft notes into the foyer. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary. I should go.”
    In a flash of movement, Drake blocked the door, outstretching his hand as if he had no intention of letting Emelia leave. She gasped, stopping as his palm brushed over her stomach. Pinpricks of heat bloomed over her skin. His chest was a wall of thickly corded muscle, his eyes a luxurious shade of honey-brown.
    “I’d feel better knowing you weren’t taking a cab to and from work,” he said.
    What did she care about making him feel better?
    “I’ll rent a car.” Emelia covered the hand he’d placed over her stomach, and kneaded her fingers between his. Raw, animalistic hunger flickered across Drake’s expression…until Emelia lifted his hand and returned it to his side. “But thanks for the offer.”
    “Emelia?” His gravelly voice laced with hints of pain.
    She froze, staring at the notches in the ancient wood door, unable to look at him. The chemistry sparking between them was fierce and palpable, speeding her breathing. She couldn’t afford to feel any of those things, so she stared straight ahead, channeling a faceless, emotionless zombie.
    “What?” she said finally, failing miserably at the whole zombie thing.
    “I already have a car waiting out front.” He leaned down, his breath warm on her neck. “Considering you’re bruised and just waking up from a long sleep, I think it’s best that I drive you home…for safety reasons.”
    As he pulled back, Emelia glared, her lips twisting as annoyance bubbled inside her. She should’ve told him to buzz off, but before she could open her mouth to fight him on the issue, Drake put a finger to her lips, shushing her. The pad of his finger was surprisingly calloused for a guy who pushed papers all day, but the pressure against her skin was soft. Gentle. His finger reminded Emelia of his kiss, the way his lips moved against hers in a sensual caress. He took back his finger like she’d burned him. Then blocked the entire doorway, his arms folded over his chest.
    “You’re not leaving this house until you agree to let me drive you home.” Two stalemated beats. “Emelia, say yes.”
    Drake may’ve been used to controlling things in the boardroom, but he wouldn’t control her. Not now. Not ever. She stood tall and raised her chin so that she looked down her nose at him. “Make me.”
    His nostrils flared as he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder like she weighed no more than a bag of feathers. She squealed, kicking her feet as he swept through the front door. Despite his speed and strength, Drake seemed oddly aware of where Emelia hurt—not a single hint of pain struck her as he bent her over his shoulder and carried out the door. She was strapped into the passenger seat of a black Mercedes, her stuff flung onto her lap, before she could argue.
    For the first time in Emelia’s life, she was struck speechless.

Chapter Seven
    Clouds rolled in Monday morning, encasing the entire city in thick plumes of mist and fog. Drake wasn’t in the mood to get down to business quite yet, and the dreary weather wasn’t helping to motivate him. After Raul pulled files on the Knight Owl, the building on Porter Street, and Emelia Hudson’s past, all Drake could think about was cornering Emelia the instant she stepped off the elevator.
    They had to talk, to straighten things out regarding the building, and how he came to purchase it. He was certain that’s why she was mad at him. Drake read the e-mails she’d sent. She’d been wrong on all counts regarding her deed and wouldn’t listen to reason. Since she wouldn’t quit with the e-mails, all messages past the first dozen had been sent straight to Raul’s spam folder. He could’ve answered an e-mail or two, but it wouldn’t have mattered legally. The facts were black and white.
    Once they hashed things out, once Emelia saw the deed