His Knees, His Pleas, But Our Son's in Peace

Chapter 37

We both turned to see Carlos standing a few feet away, his trench coat billowing

slightly in the breeze. His presence was like a force of nature, powerful and

undeniable. He didn't move, but the look in his eyes was enough to freeze Nathan in place.

Carlos didn't respond to him. His eyes remained locked on mine, and in that moment, something shifted. There was a connection, something deep and

unspoken, that passed between us. My wolf stirred inside me, agitated and

restless, as if sensing something in Carlos that I hadn't noticed before. His wolf, too, seemed to respond, though neither of us said a word.

Carlos stepped forward, his hand outstretched toward me. Without thinking, I took it, his grip firm but steady. He didn't need to pull me away; I followed him instinctively, leaving Nathan behind as Carlos led me away from the bench and back toward the street. The bodyguards appeared from the shadows, moving in to block Nathan's path as he tried to follow. "Doris, wait!" Nathan's voice cracked with desperation, but I didn't look back.

The tension between us was palpable, but there was something else too-something I couldn't quite

Carlos's face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes,

reached the corner of the street, he finally let go of my hand, turning to face me. For a moment, we stood in silence, the night stretching out between us. And

primal, that neither of us could

my mind. It followed

the parking lot, the night air cool against my flushed skin. There was

to his presence in a way that made my heart race. It wasn't just the alcohol; it was Carlos-his calm, steady demeanor, his quiet strength. Something had

to get in. I slid into the passenger seat, trying

car to the

veins, making me more aware of everything-his scent, the way his fingers tightened

we pulled out of the parking lot. The silence stretched between us, heavy and loaded. I glanced at Carlos, studying the hard line of his jaw,

igniting something between us. I expected him to pull away, to reestablish that boundary he always seemed to keep. But he didn't. His muscles tensed beneath my fingers, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he let out a slow, controlled breath, his grip on the steering

audible over the