Bonus Chapter :) This is likely the only chapter we'll have from Leah's point of view. It's concurrent with Chapter 9 (Jake's POV) - It Was Always You. Also very M rated.

Leah

"I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do." – F. Scott Fitzgerald

I hear Jake dismiss everyone for the day, and I grab my keys. Keys, wallet, flannel – wait, where was my flannel? I remember having it earlier today, and then… nothing. I glance around the various rooms, unsuccessful.

"Hey Jake," I call. "Did I leave a shirt somewhere? I can't find my flannel." I head into the bedroom and scan the floor, but then notice three sets of legs. I knew Jake and Nessie had just walked in, but I thought everyone else had gone. My eyes dart up – and I see him. He is a perfect stranger, and I feel as if I've known him all my life. As if I will know him all my life. He is tan, with a sharp face and deep brown eyes. Instantly he feels like home to me. I suddenly remember nothing – not what I was doing here, not why I'd just walked into this room, not even my own name. I have to catch myself on the doorframe to keep from falling over. My head is spinning. So this is what imprinting feels like.

I watch him as he reaches down to pick something up. "This what you're looking for?" Oh. My shirt. He crosses the room and holds it out for me. His hands are workers' hands, with little cuts and scrapes dusting his knuckles. His forearms are strong and sturdy. This must have been the window guy Jake couldn't shut up about.

I remember he's asked me a question and is expecting a response. I nod quickly, probably doing nothing to hide the utter shock on my face. I push off the doorframe and go to grab the shirt. "Thank you." And then I remember my name, and I say, "I'm Leah."

"Adam," he says, dropping his hand after I've secured the flannel. He studies me, and his gaze burns me. I want to look away because of how intense it is, but I can't tear my eyes off him. Adam continues, "Is there a coffee shop around here somewhere?" I nod. I see his lip twitch as if he's fighting a smile. "Do you like coffee?" I nod again. He tilts his head slightly, and I know he's inviting me to go with him. I wonder how I know his expressions so well as I turn and walk out, slipping on my flannel so I don't forget it again. Behind me, Adam calls to someone that he'll be back tomorrow. I already forgot who was in the room.

The ride to the coffee shop is silent, but not uncomfortable. Nothing about this made sense. I had just met this man ten minutes ago, and here I was, riding in his truck on the way to what some would consider a date. If he were to murder me, though, I think I'd die happy.

We order our coffee and settle down at a small corner table. I wrap my hands around the cup, mostly so I don't fidget with it. "So, you do windows?"

He nods, studying me. "And doors." He says. I nod, looking down at my coffee. He laughs nervously, and I do, too. "I'm sorry," he says. "It's just… For some reason, I can't think of a single thing to say when I look at you." His smooth voice reaches me across the table.

I feel an unfamiliar flush rise to my cheeks as I shift under the weight of his stare. I am unaccustomed to this type of attention. "Well, let's start small. How long have you been doing windows and doors?" I ask quietly; I went to school with the girls behind the counter. I feel their stares, hear their whispers.

"Five years. I moved around for a few years before settling down in Seattle and starting my own business. I travel a lot with my work." He tells me of the places he's seen, the most outrageous and expensive installations he'd done, the craziest clients. "What about you? What's your story?" He finally asks me.

I take a gulp of my coffee. I knew eventually I'd have to start lying – being a werewolf isn't usually first date material. This question is simple enough, though. "I live here. I work here. I've only ever known here." He gives me a look, and somehow, I know he wants me to elaborate. "I have a younger brother, Seth. He just got married in June. I live alone. My mom remarried a few years ago; she lives in Forks."

"What happened to your dad?" The question is bold, and it stings a bit, as it always done when I think of what happened to my father. He sees my chin drop and quickly continues, "That was rude. I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

I take a sip of coffee before answering. "He died several years ago. Heart attack. It's still hard sometimes." It is simple enough. I wonder if he realizes how much I'm leaving unsaid. It was my fault.

His face changes, and I realize I've said it out loud. That it was my fault. Shit. "I'm sure it wasn't," he responds.

"We got in a fight." My eyes drop to the table. "He made me really angry, and I… I exploded." That's not even really a lie, is it? "I'd never been that mad in my life. And now I have to live with the consequences every single day." I am shocked at my transparency. I glance up at his face, expecting to find him horrified. Instead, his face is filled with sympathy.

He reaches a hand across the table and sets it on mine. "I know it doesn't help, but I'm sorry." His words are sincere. He brushes a finger across my knuckles, and it sends warmth through my body. He gives me a look that I'm not sure how to decipher, and sits back, pursing his lips. I miss his hand already. "Since we're baring all, I have something to confess, too." I take a drink, waiting for him to continue. "I'm married."

Oh. I think my mouth falls open, and I realize again that I've spoken my thought out loud again. "Why did you tell me that?" My stomach churns and I push my coffee away slowly, so hopefully he doesn't notice. Leave it to me to imprint on a married man.

He takes a long drink before responding, "I felt like you deserved to know. I met her in college, when I didn't know anything else. It was over basically before it started, but it's all I've known. I haven't been in love for years, haven't been together in months." Those timelines don't match up, but I brush that aside. "I stay because it's comfortable, not because I love her," he finishes.

I think he's expecting me to leave. Part of me thinks I will. But I find myself instead saying, "I know that feeling. I stay here because it's comfortable."

"Do you ever want to leave?"

"Every single day of my life." I say before I can stop myself. I had no idea why imprinting has brought down my brick wall. At first I think I'm going to hate this vulnerability, I always have. But the way he is looking at me makes me think that maybe being honest with myself would be okay sometimes, too. "I've always felt trapped here."

"You should leave, then." He continues, "You deserve to be happy."

He says it like it's just that simple. I give him a look saying as much. "Well, then, by that logic, shouldn't you leave your wife?"

He looks like he's confused that I understood him so quickly, that I called him out. "I'm going to leave. I just…" He doesn't finish.

"It's safe?" I offer. He nods.

We spend the rest of the afternoon at that table, and during a lull in the conversation I realize I am ravenous. I hadn't eaten lunch. As if he's reading my mind, he asks, "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," I say, smiling.

We take a quick ride to Forks and our conversation rolls effortlessly into dinner. Even though Forks is small, at least it isn't the reservation. I have some degree of anonymity here. After the waitress takes our order, Adam takes a sip of water and asks, "Why are you single?"

I cough, and for the first time all day I feel a prick of discomfort. "What makes you think I'm single?"

My words shock him, and his neck flushes. "I'm sorry, I had assumed… you said you lived alone."

I had said that. I shrug, conceding. "Maybe it's because I like my privacy."

"No." His tone is firm. I know now he's the one calling me out, and I wonder what gave him the right to do that. "No, I think it's something else. A heartbreak, maybe. I think you're scared to get hurt again."

I scoff. How could he have known me so completely so shortly after meeting me? I am silent as I glare at him. He studies me back, waiting for me to admit that he's right. I sigh. "Damn, I thought I'd mastered the art of disguise. My last boyfriend," I start, wrestling with how much to reveal. "My last boyfriend fell in love with my cousin and dumped me on the spot."

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then sits back. Finally, he responds. "I can see how that would turn you off from men. I think I'd murder both of them."

I laugh, shaking my head. And the words that flow out of my mouth next are, surprisingly, not a lie either. "No, it's not like that. They're actually… perfect for each other. They're married now, having a baby in a few months. It was a long time ago. But you're right, I was extremely bitter."

"And now?" There is something behind his eyes, the same look he's been giving me all night – it's been so long since I've seen someone look at me like this it's taken me this long to name it. It's desire. My throat dries and my stomach warms.

"And now, I'm… waiting to see what happens."

He nods, pursing his lips to hide a smile. I drop my gaze as the waitress arrives with our food.

After dinner, I go toward the passenger side of his truck. His fingers brush against mine, and he whispers my name, grabbing my forearm lightly enough not to hurt me but strong enough to stop me in my tracks. My breath stops as he brushes my hair back from my face and places a soft kiss on my lips.

He pulls back quickly, and I find myself leaning into him, chasing him. "My hotel, it's around the corner. Would you like to have a drink with me in my room?"

I nod immediately.

He pushes the door shut behind him and turns to me. Instantly our lips find each other in the dark, neither of us having thought to turn on a light. The offer of alcohol is long forgotten; I didn't need a drink anyway. I find the hem of his shirt and tug it. He pulls away just long enough to discard the fabric, and then his lips are back on mine. I rush in taking my flannel off, throwing it aside, and he pushes me gently backward onto the bed. I pull him down on top of me by his belt loops. I have no intention of stopping him. Or stopping myself.

His hands grab for my neck, but he pulls back as if I've burned him. Shit. "You're burning up. Are you sick?" He tentatively reaches out for me again, running his hands up and down my arms gingerly as he adjusts to my temperature.

Lie number one, the first one since I've met him, flows out of my mouth effortlessly. "I have a medical thing. It's normal for me." He smiles down at me, seeming to believe my half-ass explanation. His lips brush mine before moving to my neck, then the collar of my tank top. He pulls it effortlessly overhead and settles back down between my legs. He places kisses across my collarbone and sucks at the skin at the base of my neck. His hands ghost across my waist, my stomach, my hips, my chest. He pulls my bra straps down and kisses my shoulders.

His hands slip around my back and unhook my bra, throwing it to the side. He finds my nipple with his mouth and I grind my hips into his, letting out a soft moan. I feel his erection pressed against me through his jeans. It makes me ache.

It's been a long time since I've been intimate, but my body has not forgotten. I already feel moisture pooling between my legs, and I'm desperate to have him fill me. I start to reach for the button of his jeans, but he stills. "Shit," he mutters, pulling back and sitting up onto his knees. I sit up too, involuntarily, my body following his. "I don't have a condom," he admits.

The second lie comes easier than the first. "I'm on the pill." I whisper, falling backward and pushing his jeans down his hips, at first with my hands and then with my feet when I can't reach them anymore. He groans as my hand grabs his erection through his boxers and he settles back down on top of me. My lie was totally reckless, but I really didn't care. If, by some chance I were to get pregnant, so be it. Maybe Sam was right all along.

He kisses down my chest again, sucking and biting at my nipple while he swirls the other one slowly with his thumb. I reach under him to undo my shorts, needing him as close to me as possible. I push them down my hips, and his free hand pulls them off effortlessly. He wraps his large arms around me, and I feel small. Delicate.

Although I want him – and only him – to touch me where I ache, he takes his time with me. I think we both want this to last as long as possible before we recognize reality again. His hands graze my hips, my thighs, my breasts. His lips suck at my chest and collarbone. Mine find his shoulder, his chest. "You're so beautiful, Leah," he whispers against my neck. The noise that escapes my mouth is almost embarrassing. He laughs huskily against my skin. The way he laughs makes my heart pound harder, makes me throb.

He sits up and suddenly grabs my hips and pulls me down the bed toward him. He places a kiss on my center; I can feel his warm mouth through the thin fabric. I gasp loudly. His breath tickles my skin as he lets out another low laugh. He slips a thumb in my underwear and yanks them off quickly. I feel him taking in every part of me, and I spare a glance down at him. His eyes are already on mine.

His rough hands are light as they stroke my inner thighs. My mind is screaming at me that I shouldn't be doing this. He's married. He's just in town for this week. It's been years. And all my thoughts fly out the window as he touches my core. My eyes flutter closed. I can tell that he is practiced; his fingers are slow but never lazy. Every move he makes has a purpose.

I find the sheets beneath me, fisting them tightly as he replaces his fingers with his tongue. A whimper slips out of my mouth. He slips a finger inside me torturously slow, and I nearly lose all sense of self. He reaches up with his other hand to touch my breast, and he stops momentarily, whispering against me, "You're so delicious." I moan, his comment making me miss the way his mouth feels on me. I blindly find his hair with my hand and push him back to me. This time it is him that groans, and his lips vibrate against me. He slips another finger in and continues to pump them inside me, faster now.

His tongue switches direction, swirling my nub, and I feel my climax coming on. "Adam, I'm close," I choke out, the rest of my thoughts coming out as moans.

He pulls his thumb from my nipple to take the place of his tongue as he pulls back and gruffs, "Oh, don't worry, there's more where this came from." I can't decipher what his words mean – my head is full up on pleasure – but I know they are good. He bites my inner thigh before returning his mouth to me, his tongue faster now, more determined. My skin pricks with sweat as I reach the edge and tumble over it. My legs clamp around his head, and his fingers curl up into me. I arch my back off the bed, grasping for something, anything, to keep me from floating away. I think I scream.

He rides out my waves, making sure I enjoy every last second of this. When my body stills, now only shaking under his continued touch to my most sensitive areas, my eyes flutter open as he pulls back and licks his lips. And then his fingers. And I just about lose it again.

In one fluid motion, I sit up, grab him and flip under me so that I'm sitting on his hips. He blows out a breath at my sudden take-charge attitude. His boxers are the only barrier between us now, and I discard those quickly; he helps me by kicking them off, moving us so we're closer to the head of the bed. I lean down, my chest pressing against his as I capture his lips with mine. I can taste myself on his lips. I push my tongue in his mouth, needing more. Always more. He groans into my mouth, and I feel him twitch against my warmth.

I know I should return his kindness, taste him like he tasted me, but I need to have him. I need him to fill up the hollow places. He must understand that, maybe even feel the same. Because he reaches down and guides himself inside me. I sink down on top of him, adjusting quickly. I struggle with keeping my eyes open, because it just feels so good, but I want to see his face. He looks like he's having the same conflict. His eyes are half-open, hooded with dark desire. As I continue to move my hips, I lean down and pull his bottom lip in with my teeth. He growls and thrusts up to meet me, faster than I had been going. Rougher. I guess we weren't going slow anymore. Fine by me.

His hands squeeze my hips, and then my rear. It makes me move against him harder. He groans into my neck, "You feel amazing," and he moves his hips to meet with mine in a way that I am unfamiliar with, but that hits just the right spot.

"Yes, right there," I moan, clutching at his arms tightly. My directive makes him pick up his pace slightly, a low groan escaping his mouth; quick to learn, he hits that spot nearly every thrust after that.

I claw at his chest, and I don't ever remember sex feeling this good. It almost didn't feel like sex; this was an out-of-body experience. And I know that I'll never be with another person in this way – or any way, for that matter – again. Emotionally, spiritually, physically, I was his.

He takes a second to flip us, my back hitting the mattress, and continues thrusting into me. I wrap my legs around him, begging him to go deeper. He shifts his hips slightly and finds that sweet spot again, and I moan loudly, pulling his lips to mine. I feel a familiar pressure building fast as he leans back, picking up his pace and force as he slams into me. "Adam, please, yes!" I beg him, grasping the headboard so I have something else to hold on to besides him, to make sure this is real. He wraps a strong arm around my back, using his other hand to reach down between my legs. He's panting. I am, too.

The combination of him hitting that spot in my depths, and his fingers working against my already sensitive nub, makes my head spin. My second wave takes me by surprise, and I shake under him, unable to do anything besides feel.

"Leah," he groans, following me into bliss. He's holding me tight as he anchors me to his chest, our bodies rocking with pleasure.

As we come down, he kisses my neck softly, whispering that I'm beautiful. Whispering my name against me. Whispering that I'm amazing. I take a moment to relish this – being lavished by a man, this man. I kiss him one last time before he rolls to the side.

We struggle to catch our breaths. After a few minutes, though, I realize something, and I start to laugh.

"What?" He asks curiously, turning on his side to look at me. He plants kisses on my shoulder.

"I don't even know your last name," I giggle into his chest. I am not usually one to giggle; it's not lost on me.

He starts to laugh next to me too, and soon we are breathless again. Eventually, with humor, he says, "Baker. My name is Adam Baker. And yours?"

"Clearwater."

"Well, Leah Clearwater, it was very nice to meet you." He says softly against my skin, pulling me into his embrace.

We spend hours talking softly, not bothering to get dressed, the only light source the flickering lamp post outside. He traces small designs on my available skin, and I run my fingers through his hair. When he asks about my tattoo, I tell him of the tribal legends, of the wolves and the cold ones, explaining without straight up telling him they were true. He had lots of questions, and I answer them as best as I can. Talking with him like this, so quietly, so close, is the most intimate thing I've ever done with a man, nakedness aside.

And the most erotic. His kisses return to my neck, his touches return to my breast, and a familiar throbbing returns between my legs. I pull his lips to mine, wanting him to know it's not a one-sided desire. That he can have me whenever he wants me. He is unhurried as he kisses every inch of skin he can reach, as he lifts my leg up over his hip and presses into me again. The second time is slower than the first, more sensual. I could never get tired of this. And, astonishingly, I peak again as he does, his forehead resting on mine as he fills me. My body is electricity.

The last thought I have before sleep takes me, my head against his chest, is that he is going to absolutely wreck me.

I wake up alone, tangled in sheets that smell of him. It's still dark outside. He'd been staying here all week while he worked at Jake's, and his scent saturated every inch of this room. I only have time to wonder, just for a second, if he'd already left for the day, when I hear the door creak open.

"Morning. I wanted to be back before you woke up. I got us breakfast," he says softly, holding up Styrofoam cups and a small bag.

I gather the sheets to cover my chest and sit up. "I'm starting to think you're trying to bribe me with all this coffee," I say as I scoot back against the headboard. The headboard that, last night, had been my only other anchor besides Adam. I grab the coffee cup and our fingers brush. It makes me warm as I remember how he'd touched me with those fingers last night.

He sits on the edge of the bed next to me. "Is it working?" He asks, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he takes a sip.

"It might be. I'll need a few more to confirm my suspicions," I suggest, biting back the smile dancing on my own lips.

"You're beautiful in the mornings. And at night. Actually, just all the time." He admits, looking sheepishly at me from under his lashes. He rustles with the bag and pulls out a danish.

"Will you be back in Forks any time soon?" I ask, kicking myself for the amount of stupid hope in my voice. My heart twinges at the thought of him leaving.

"I was thinking of coming down next weekend again. Do you have any plans?" And before I can think about whether I have plans, I am shaking my head that I don't.

As I drink my coffee and eat the danish, he puts his number in my phone and then gathers my clothes from where they'd been scattered across the room. He places them at my feet. "I can give you a lift back home," he says, turning to face away from me.

I rise to my feet to slip on my clothes, hoping he'll turn around so he can look at me like he did last night. "No, you can drop me off at the cabin; I like to walk through the forest. And I wouldn't want to put you behind schedule."

When my clothes are on, I clear my throat. He turns around and breaks into a smile. "Oh, don't forget this again." He gestures to my flannel, draped over the back of the desk chair where it had landed, and hands it to me. I go to take it, but he grabs my arm and pulls me in, placing a searing kiss on my lips. I fall against his chest. When he pulls back, he whispers against my lips, "I just wanted one more before I have to give you back to the world."

"Don't apologize," I whisper, kissing him again. Eventually, though, before our lips pick up speed, I pull back, saying, "We really should probably go." I am acutely aware of the time, and I'd really like to be gone by the time others show up to the cabin. I wanted to keep this to myself, if just for a while longer.

We drive back to the cabin, and this drive is the opposite of the one we'd taken yesterday. For this one, I am sitting in the middle seat, his hand is resting on my thigh, and I can't shut up. I'm telling him all about the wolves – the guys, I've referred to them as.

When I see Jake's truck already parked outside when we arrive, I have to stifle a groan. Maybe he's too busy to notice. Adam comes around to open my door, something he did every time there was one to open. "Thank you for the ride." I say, shutting the door as quietly as I could.

He nods, pulling me in lightly to place a kiss on my cheek. "I'll see you soon, Leah." And as I watch him walk towards the house, as sickeningly cheesy as it felt to say, I felt a piece of me leaving with him too.

I turn over my shoulder, getting ready to head to the woods, when at the last second, I spot Jake peering out at me through the kitchen window. He'd seen me. "Fuck you, Jake," I whisper under my breath. I stand, waiting, knowing if I try to run away, he will just chase me.

"Fun night?" Jake's voice is riddled with laughter as he approaches me, doing nothing to hide his amusement.

I cross my arms over my chest. "Shut up, Jake. It wasn't like that."

"Oh, so you didn't jump his bones?"

I let out a groan. "I mean, it wasn't just that." I decide that giving him a small bit of truth couldn't hurt, and it would probably make him leave me alone faster. "We talked for hours last night. Coffee turned into dinner and dinner turned into…" I trail off, trying not to flush as I remembered exactly what it turned into.

"Dessert?" He offers, choking on a laugh.

"I was going to say breakfast." I chew my lip, hating this entire encounter. He shrugs, and I throw up my hands. "I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this. You'll just use it as ammunition."

Something that I've said make him stop laughing, and he says, "We're friends, Leah." He shoves his hand into his pocket. I realize I might have hurt his feelings. He continues, "Tell me, don't tell me, whatever you want. Next time we're phased I'll hear it all anyway."

Oh God, he's right. As soon as we're phased together, he'll know that Adam is married. And a sex god, but that's beside the point. My lip quivers unexpectedly, and I try to stop my voice from shaking as I explain, "He's married, Jake." I watch his face fall. Yeah, exactly. This was the thought – the truth – I'd been avoiding for the last twelve hours. I try to cover my tracks quickly. "Well, sort of. He's done, she's not. He told me they haven't been together in months."

He says nothing, and I understand. There's nothing to say, really. Tears well in my eyes at just how unfair my hand in life was. "I'm just so damn tired of being the other woman," I whisper finally, as the tears finally spill out onto my cheeks. I cover my face quickly, not wanting Jake to see me cry. Regardless, he wraps his arms around me in an embrace, and I sob quietly into his chest.

I sniffle and shove Jake away from me, swiping angrily at the tears that had fallen. "God, leave it to me to imprint at the most inconvenient time ever."

He places a hand over his heart. "The most inconvenient time ever? We both know who holds that title."

The comment makes me smile, and I shrug one final time at him before heading to the tree line.