Big Bad Wolfie

43) A Game For Two

By the end of the night, I was in a separate room from the rest of the club with our guy.

The club has small rooms with couches, and slow music, and red and purple lights to help "set the mood" for who knows what(even though we all know what).

My mood though, couldn't be happier, no matter how fancy the lights.

Because sitting excruciatingly close to this man on this couch, is making me remember what the group told me about this particular piece of information.

I don't need it out of his mouth. I need it off of his person.

I need to steal a computer hard drive off this guy.

  It's convenient because he already expects me to be running my hands all over him.

  "So, how do you wanna —"

  "Shhh, just close your eyes," I smirked at him.

  He narrowed his eyes at me, but was still grinning.

  I batted my eyelashes, "Please?"

  He did it.

  And I whacked him over the back of the head with one of the pieces of decore.

  He fell onto the couch, limp.

  Because even if it wouldn't have been suspicious that I was intensely surveying his body with my eyes and hands, that's gross. Even if it's fake, I don't even wanna act like I'm enjoying it.

  I shuddered.

  Besides, he's a werewolf, so hopefully if he has a bump or something, he'll heal by the time anyone finds him here.

  And everyone will just blame his passing out and the fact his last memory was of a pretty girl sweet talking him on too much to drink.

  And boom, my group and I disappear like we weren't even here. Successfully avoiding a war over 7 high-rankers assaulting a worrier from a different pack.

  In order for that last part to happen though, I need to get the hard drive.

I searched his pockets and jacket and found nothing in either.

I sighed, why me?

I ran my hands down the guy's wide torso — let's just say it's obvious he's a worrier — and looked for anything that might feel off. I didn't get any results there, so I moved onto his lower half.

I gave both his legs a thorough pat down and even checked his boots.

Nada.

I groaned, you've gotta be kidding me.

I climbed around him and struggled to get his jacket off.

It's kind of a good thing too because, the lack of boots and jacket will help sell the story the he just passed out while having some fun.

I pulled on the arms and just about everywhere I could reach to get the dang thing off, but the way he's laying is making it impossible.

I gritted my teeth and shook my head.

I gave an aggressive tug to get the annoying fabric out from under this seemingly million ton man, and it worked.

I got it out from under him.

But it made us both topple off the couch and, of course, his million ton self landed on top of me.

"Ughh!" I whined, pushing and pulling at him to get him off.