A/N: Yay! It feels good to REALLY be back this time! I've been re-reading over all my stories and even though I put this as completed I kept coming back to it. And now it has taken a completely different path than I have ever planned. Since this is AU I'm just going to be playing around with SM's beautiful characters. I won't give anything away but it probably won't shock you too much(:

Warnings: I'm taking a different approach on imprinting... and there will be—as there always are—lemons. :D

Disclaimer: SM owns anything Twilight.

Happy reading lovies!

Chapter 2

The hallway is dark and silent except for Leah's light breathing on the other side of her bedroom door. Sam stands in front of the door to her room glancing down at his feet, listening for sounds, willing his breathing to slow. He hadn't felt this nervous or unsure about himself since phasing, but there wasn't much to do about that now.

It is after four a.m. and once again Leah is alone, though now she has taken to locking her bedroom door and sealing the large window next to her bedframe—a sign that she was upset and wanted nothing to do with him. Fifteen minutes ago when he was still outside trying to find the easiest way in, he considered going through her open bathroom window, but Sam knew that he wouldn't have been able to get his muscled thighs through there, let alone his whole large body. And kicking her door down would have just led to questions he couldn't answer just yet.

So now he stands there feeling like an idiot for the better part of five minutes, not moving—though Leah knew he was there—fingering the letter he holds in his hands. He's ready to slip it under her door, but each time he musters up the strength to bend down and release it, an ache appears out of nowhere, righting him.

Damn imprint pain. He thinks rubbing at his chest to quell away the discomfort, it helps, but not by much. Emily was worried…very worried, probably thinking that Leah or one of those leeches had finally decided to kill him.

Instead of going home like he should have to spend time with the woman that was supposed to be the reason for holding him in place on earth, he began focusing his sole attention to finding that damn red headed leech that kept finding its way onto his lands. Anything was better than thinking about Leah trying to leave him, yet again. But he didn't get any new leads, the red heads scent disappeared right at the edge of the cliff, leaving Sam even more frustrated than before. That was until he remembered why he had come to the Clearwater home earlier in the first place, before he was distracted by the large half packed black bag…

Finally he knocks on Leah's door, hears rustling, but no sounds of her soft footfalls on the floor. So he knocks again louder this time, he hears her exasperated sigh, more noise and finally he hears her footsteps. He picks up the sound of her dresser moving away from the door, then the turn of her lock giving way. The door opens, and he finds himself facing her.

"Do you know what time it is?" she inquires, pulling at the stud in her right eyelid. A piercing she had gotten the day when Emily had moved into the house that would have—should have— been Leah's.

Leah is clad in a wrinkly T-shirt way too big for her frame. He looks her over, musing about what, if anything, she wears underneath. Immediately, his thoughts return to the bonfire four months ago, and the night that made him a man obsessed. He doesn't let his mind get too far into the memory in fear of having Leah shut the door in his face, so he turns his attention back to her.

Even at the lateness of this hour, her sensuality reaches out and tickles his skin, caressing him in the lonely hallway. He smells her, takes in the smoothness of her copper skin, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the surety of her stare. Her graceful curves cannot be concealed by the overlarge shirt that stops mid-thigh.

All of this conspires to confuse him, tear him down, and make him weak. He shouldn't be thinking of Leah this way, his thoughts should be pure with Emily and Emily alone. But yet here he is, listening to the sound of their heartbeats mingling in his ears. He is growing hard, can feel it tighten his cutoffs, and knows she can sense his awakening, too.

"You may have been able to keep my baby brother out of the house all night but my mom will be home any minute." She states, her gaze washing over him hastily, hand on the door frame, making no move to let him pass.

"We need to talk."

"You didn't get what you needed to say out earlier?" Her eyes narrow, she sounds and looks bothered, maybe because the hour is late. Or maybe something else… with Leah, Sam could never be too sure.

"Obviously not," Sam responds gruffly.

They stare each other down for a moment before he hears her huff in annoyance, turning around to let him finally enter her room. "If you even think about touching me you're out."

Sam nods even though his attention is more caught on the delicious smell of her room. Their still intermingled scents that Leah had tried to cover up by lighting jasmine fragranced candles causes a small smile to grace his lips until the pain in his chest tightens again.

Sam takes a deep breath to push back the ache that was starting to paralyze him and distractedly glances around the room. The bed is unmade, a few oversized pillows and a thin comforter are haphazardly situated but otherwise the room is spotless. And much to his relief Sam doesn't see any indication of Leah trying to run off again.

She climbs onto her bed, exposing long luscious tanned thighs. A hint of her black panties emerges as her shirt rises up and he begins thinking about earlier, where he had used everything in him to get her to stay.

She witnesses his stare, raises her studded eyebrow, causing it to tinkle in the moonlight coming through the closed window. "Well? Get on with it."

Silently, he hands her the letter, which has been burning a hole in his pocket ever since he removed it from their special tree in the forest. The same tree with a large carved heart and "Sam + Lee-lee 4ever" etched into the middle of it. The place where Leah and Sam shared so many secrets, their first kiss, first date, laughs, tears, the loss of both of their virginity.

Leah hadn't been near the tree since Emily had come into the picture but Sam had been there whenever he needed to get away and clear his head. Why? He still had no idea. Sometimes he would wander aimlessly through the forest—after the other members of the pack had gone home to sleep— and his legs would never fail to take him to that very spot where memory after memory would hit him full force.

These incessant thoughts of Leah didn't make any sense at all because Emily was supposed to be his only sense of direction, clarity and more. Which she was/is to some degree, but it was never what the Elders described it would be.

The glint of Leah's piercing as she furrows her eyebrows snaps Sam out of his thoughts. She licks her bottom lip with her beautiful pink tongue, a motion that doesn't go unnoticed by Sam, before she asks. "What the hell is this?"

"How I feel." With nothing else to say, he sits on the edge of the bed, body turned in her direction.

She repositions the comforter over her legs, ensuring that he can no longer get a peek of the lovely view that she was displaying before, unfolds the letter and glances over at him before she begins to silently read.

It takes her less than a minute to complete, though it feels like hours. He is silent watching her expression that doesn't change, as if she has been expecting this. When she is done, she refolds the letter slowly and glances up. Her eyes are glassy for only a second before the moment is gone. Sam knew if he had blinked he would have surely missed it.

"Sam—" She starts as she places the note on the side of her. She sounds as if she is speaking to a small child before they're about to be told 'no you won't be getting that toy or candy.'

"Leah, I love you." He interjects ignoring the stabbing pain at his admission, breathless as his heart continues to thud loudly in his ears.

"Go home." She continues on as if she hadn't heard his confession before.

"Where ever you are is my home." he says honestly, causing the pain in his chest to constrict so hard that for a few seconds he loses his breath entirely. He gathers himself before she can notice the discomfort on his face by balling his fingers into the palm of his enormous hands. His short nails dig into his skin to the point of almost drawing blood until the pain in his chest ebbs away slowly.

Leah's breath hitches before she tries to shake away everything she just read or heard with a quick shake of her head. "You need to leave."

Sam notices her trembling form, uncurls his fists to reach out and calm her but she flinches back before his fingers can graze her supple skin.

She removes herself from the bed entirely onto her feet, hastily as if he had tried to strike her.

I guess I deserve that. He thinks to himself as he gets up onto his feet. He needed to gain some control back over the conversation. It wasn't going anything like he had imagined it would.

"We need to talk about this…" he gestures at the space between them before he clarifies. "us."

"Us?" she scoffs turning away angrily from him towards her window, "There is no us." She says bitterly, twisting the catch, before opening the window as wide as it will go. "Don't try to turn this into something it's not. You are imprinted." The last word is said with a mix of hatred and disgust. "We both knew this would never be anything more than sex."

Sam growls lowly clenching his fingers again. "You don't mean that. I'm trying here." he doesn't speak the words he knows she needs to hear in fear of the pain coming back. "You just don't understand it—"

"I don't?" she cuts him off, folding her arms over her breasts. "This coming from the same guy that can only say how he feels through a shitty piece of paper? Or through broken sentences, so the 'imprint pain' doesn't almost kill you? Okay, you're right almighty Alpha." She slightly bows her head before her hazel eyes darken slightly. "I definitely don't understand."

"Leah..." he groans irritably as his sensitized hearing picks up her mother's car come to a halt in the gravelly driveway.

Time's up. Damn it!

"Well go on, I'm sure she's calling anyway." Leah nods her head towards the now open window that she backs away from.

Sam huffs before walking over to the window in silent defeat. He throws his left leg out the window, keeping his balance by keeping his right foot on the floor, before turning to look at her. "This isn't over." He assures her before turning to jump onto the ground. He starts to walk the short distance to the forest, coming up short to turn around and look at Leah. The wind from the morning air is causing several strands of her hair to fly into her stony gorgeous face. She is still standing by the window—this alluring woman who has the power and authority to take his hurt away.

If only for a moment.

Make him forget… make him right with the world. If only for a single solitary moment. He would give his right arm for that… a moment of solitary peace.

Something the elders said would come with an imprint. Instead it made things much worse.

Suddenly everything is falling away again. This time, Sam prays the instant will last.

Leah gives him one last longing stare before frowning. The grimace doesn't take away from her beauty one bit as she backs away from her now closed and re-latched window.

Her footfalls are soft on her bedroom flooring as she disappears from Sam's view to go greet her mom downstairs.

Sam's heart is pumping a mile a minute as he observes her retreat. Her fullness speaks to him, demanding that he go back in the house and make her see reason. But his chest reminds him that the imprint agony going on in his body will not stop until he goes to see his other love.

Could a man love two people at one time?

Emily, Leah, Emily, Leah, Emily, Leah, Emily…

The constant war in his mind between Emily and Leah clash, collide, and confuse him. so much so, that he falls to his knees onto the dew-covered grass. He clenches his eyes shut willing the war to be over, knowing it has only begun.

Minutes later, he rises onto his feet unsurely as the victor of this particular mind battle mentally raises her fist in the air with her head held high.

With his head pounding, blood flowing, he stumbles blindly into the forest to his imprint… like a slave.

Sam returns home a little after three a.m., Emily knows because she has waited in their bedroom, with the television on not really watching. She hears the closing of the front door, keys thrown onto the hallway table before he heads deeper into the house. She mutes the volume, listening. Moments later, she hears his footsteps on the stairs. When he finally enters the bedroom, she smiles.

"Hey baby."

"Hey," he responds brusquely.

The moment passes as he bends down, kissing her lightly on the scarred part of her forehead, brow, cheek and chin. But he doesn't kiss her lips. She can tell something is off and hopes that he'll finally share.

"How's your night?" he asks while beginning a slow undress. The shirt comes off first, floating to the carpeted floor.

Emily watches him silently before responding. "Good, just waiting for you, that's all."

Sam gives her a doubting look.

"Meaning?" he asks turning to face her. "You knew I was meeting with Leah tonight. Hell, it was your idea that I have a word with her."

Emily retreats backwards into the comfort of her pillow. Her fiancé is right, of course. It had been her idea. She knew that her trying to talk to Leah was not going to cut it. That and Leah scared the daylights out of Emily most days. Therefore, Emily changed tactics.

"So, baby, how did it go?" she asks cautiously.

Sam had slipped off his pants and retreated to the tiny closet to hang them, his ass and thigh muscles tight in the black boxer briefs he wears. Emily feels a pang in her insides. Sam would always look good—so good for the rest of his life.

He returns without responding, the front of his boxer briefs filled with a bulge that makes Emily beam. She eyes him silently as he moves away from the bed toward the bath. When he reaches the doorframe, she speaks.

"Not going to answer me?" she asks, cautiously.

Sam turns. His facial expression is neutral, but something about him seems preoccupied.

"What do you want me to say? I spoke to her like you asked me. Told her that this obsession with me was something she needed to get a handle on." Sam steps out of view into the bathroom, a large room, with dark gray tile, beige wallpaper, and a raised soaking tub equipped with a separate shower stall encircled by flower patterned curtains.

Emily feels the tension in her gut radiate outward. She raises her voice to be heard over the noise of the shower he's started.

"Sam, baby? You didn't say obsession, did you? Tell me you didn't use that word!" A few seconds pass. Then a few more. Emily resists blurting out her discontent, but this minimalist communication style of his is not working for her right now. She counts to three silently and then says, "Baby?"

Louder this time, even though she knew he could hear her as clear as day.

Sam walks out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. His boxer briefs are gone. He is nude. Emily blinks, thoughts forgotten, eyes traveling down his torso, quickly dispensing with his belly and waist. She never ceases to marvel at his manhood—which is, in her humble opinion, a true work of art. She smiles as she eyes his cock, knowing he will be aroused soon, if she has anything to do with it.

"What?" he says, deflating any thoughts of intimacy and passion. He is staring at her as if she uttered something completely ridiculous. "What the hell is this, the third degree?"

"No, Sam baby—"

"Look," he says, one hand on his hip as he interrupts her. "You asked me to handle it, and now you're attempting to dissect every single word? I'm not having that."

Sam frowns at her for a second, and for that moment Emily's thoughts are transported back to her childhood, when her daddy used to chastise her for doing something wrong. It was the same stare—almost the same pose—hand on hip, index finger outstretched toward her. Emily gulps and remains silent. Satisfied there won't be further discussion, Sam pivots on his heels and returns to the bathroom.

The door slams shut.

Or perhaps she just imagines it does.

Emily remains in bed, alone, not moving and quiet. Her mind is racing, thoughts ping-ponging between Sam and Leah.

Fiance/lover, ex-best friend/cousin.

Hell!

Sam enters her slowly, feeling her expand as he fills her up. He groans in response to her grabbing his ass and pulling him inside of her. He glances down, Emily's caramel skin is aglow with the sheen that accompanies lovemaking. Her body writhes underneath his frenzied thrusts. Her small breasts, with dark erect nipples, beckon him near. Her pubic hair is trimmed neat and he watches himself thrust in and out of the sweet spot between her legs so that he won't have to look into her eyes.

At this moment, he is thinking of her.

He is savoring the moment of being inside his imprint. Yet, he ponders her… Leah's legs, thighs, navel, breasts, neck, ass and beautiful face.

He longs to drink her in, consume her in one bite, so he can carry her around inside of him wherever he goes. Since this is not possible, he dreams of her instead. Constantly. At work, during the drive home, while having supper, watching television on the couch, and even while they are having sex. The only time he can't think of her is when he is patrolling with the guys, even though he so badly wants to.

Now as he thrusts deep inside of his imprint, he imagines he is making love to her. He thrusts harder, giving it to Emily the way he knows Leah would want it…deep, hard, and long. Emily's eyes are glazed as he pummels her, mouth open, tongue poised at her lips, but no words emerge. She is not one to talk during sex—not even a whimper or a moan. She only makes faces, ushering him onward with a gesture here and there. She's not shy by any means—not afraid to take his dick in her hand and put it where she desires.

But she doesn't moan.

And this is okay with him. It never even crossed his mind. Well maybe, until he thought about Leah. He would never forget those sounds of love that haunt him with each passing day. He longs to hear those words, soft melodies that alighted from her lips.

Ooooohhh

Ahhhhhh

Mmmmm

Yeaahhhh

Sounds of love…

From this woman, the object of his obsession…

Leah.

Emily grips Sam as he beats against her, hot breath on her neck, hips thrusting to a silent slow groove that loses its rhythm.

Sam moves against her with abandonment, eyes closed, head thrown back, palms pressed on either side of her, fingers splayed and flat against the pillows cushioning her head.

Holding on…holding back…

Then, no longer giving a damn, he grunts, groans and comes.

It takes a moment for them to collect themselves.

Such is the way after really good sex.

She is hoping tonight, in the afterglow of their lovemaking, he'll share the details of the conversation between Leah and him… a gift, just for Emily… the intricacies which she longs to hear.

But it is not meant to be…

At least not on this night, for Sam is uncharacteristically silent tonight. And there is nothing Emily can do to change that.

Not a damn thing…

"Go home Black." Leah calls out as Jacob Black stands in front of her open office door. Her wolf caught his scent—a mixture of pine and sunshine, although she was pretty sure sunshine wasn't a smell—before Leah saw his smug looking face blocking the small doorway.

He takes his time looking her up and down before entering the tiny room, made office uninvited. Leah feels like a mannequin being stripped of her clothing at an all-male car show. She disregards the prickly flush of desire that drifts over her in a wave so thick she feels moisture gather between her thighs.

Hussy. She chastises her wolf mentally as her face contorts into a sneer at nothing in particular. She already had one Alpha wolf problem, she didn't need to add another. Especially not him. He wasn't imprinted or Alpha...yet. But he would be, it was after all, inevitable.

"Well someone is awfully grumpy this morning." Jake announces as he plops down in the only other chair in the small office with an all knowing smile on his russet face. The jerk could probably smell her. That... or he was back to try again.

Oh no. How many times do I have to say no for you to get the point kid? Even though he was only one year younger than her and looked nothing like a kid would.

Leah decides to ignore him, instead completely concentrating on fixing the bookkeeping her brother had screwed up during his week of working at the Clearwater Baitshop. For five minutes Jake gazes at her patiently, silently, until he realizes that she really isn't going to acknowledge him. When Leah notices his wolfish grin and his eyes brighten mischievously, from her peripheral vision of her laptop, she knows that he isn't going to go away, at least not easily.

It only takes a moment before he snatches two capped pens off her disorganized desk and he begins playing a beat against the edge of the medium sized table, until her hazel eyes glare from her laptop up to his face. His response is a casual shrug and a lopsided grin, nodding his head to each distinct bang against the old wood, his dark eyes never straying from hers.

If he keeps that up he's going to end up chopping my desk in half!

"I'm busy, Jake. What do you want?"

As soon as the words emerge, she regrets them, knowing she is being unkind. He hasn't done anything to offend her or make her mad, but this thing with Sam has been gnawing at her insides all night—more specifically, since she unfolded that stupid, stupid note.

No, that isn't right. This thing is now an open festering wound.

It has to stop…it will stop…

Right after the short talk with her mom she remembered the note on her bed. Leah had raced up the steps to rid the evidence. She had quickly shredded up Sam's letter into such miniscule pieces that no one would be able to tell that it actually had words on it, maybe pointless scribbles, but not words. Words that should have never been written down. Words that shouldn't matter anymore.

Jake continues to smile, showing off his straight white teeth. He is staring at her—never glancing away—always giving her or anyone he's communicating with his full, undivided attention. She likes that—shows he has nothing to hide.

It is no secret in the reservation that Jake wants her. He had been pretty vocal about it with his thoughts and started hanging out with her even though Leah had told him he was wasting his time. Even more so when Sam had all but Alpha commanded that Jake stay away from her. Knew he couldn't have her, but it didn't deter him from trying. Jake even went so far as to have Seth and her mother yap in her ear every second possible about how great they would be together if Leah just gave him a chance.

Not that he was bad looking or anything. It was actually quite the opposite, though she would never admit that out loud. Gone was the scrawny kid that had practically shadowed wherever Leah, Rachel and Rebecca went years ago. In that kid's place stood a—well, a man. There was no other word for Jacob Black. He had been getting taller with each passing month. At the rate he was going, he was going to pass Sam soon, if he hadn't already.

His russet skin looks smooth and flawless except where he had stubble along his jaw and chin. He always had his hair sticking up into tousled fohawk, defying the look that Sam preferred the guys in the pack to have, cropped short to their head. Leah would never tell Jake that his biceps were sculpted perfectly and his shoulders were broad as daylight. And there is no way she was ever going to tell him about his strong pectorals. Her traitorous eyes scanned over the black fitted V-neck that hung over his blue jean shorts. None of his clothing obscured the view of his flat stomach, his narrow waist, long legs and large feet...

"Hey you alright, Lee? Weekend go okay?"

"Jake go fu—" she cuts herself off mid-sentence when he gazes at her with amusement. She knew then that he had caught her perusal of his body. "I'm fine, just busy. Too much stuff to do, that's all." she answers nonchalantly.

He considers her for a second with dark eyes that seem to see right through her bullshit before he breaks out into laughter. A contagious laughter that sends strange tingles throughout her body.

She stares at him as if he has lost his mind trying to ignore the sensation.

"No, Leah, that's not it. Why are you always trying to hide yourself around me? You do know that it doesn't work, don't you?" He places the pens back on top of her desk and moves closer, eyes locking with hers.

In that instant, she feels what she always feels around him—angst for this uncanny "gift" of his, for lack of a better word, this way he has of cutting straight through the morass of bullshit, seeing clearly, the way a laser cuts through smoke. She sighs, dropping her shoulders a bit.

"Go home Jake." She says, wishing she could shove him outside.

Jake watches her for a moment more before standing up. For a second she thought—hoped she may have won, that he actually might listen to her just this once and go the hell home, until she see's that the door of her office is now closed and he's overpowering the small room with his damn presence.

They are now alone. Just the two of them.

Oh great, just what I need, more talking.

Leah watches him silently as he fearlessly walks behind her, a shiver courses through her when his large heated hands finds her shoulders.

He begins a slow rhythmic massage of that spot where her neck meets her shoulder blade, tight heavy neck muscles. Strong, calloused hands glide along smooth skin, taming the flesh, gently moving her hair out of the way.

She lets him powerless to stop him, letting a tiny moan escape her lips. Her body becomes lax under his careful ministrations.

After a few minutes of silence, his minty breath ghosts her right ear. "Tired of being the other woman yet?" Jake asks in a voice so low, her stomach jumps. He questions her matter-of-factly, without the slightest hint of malice.

Leah's head snaps to the side, their eyes lock; her hand goes around his putting an end to this… thing.

"You don't know what you're talking about." She mutters mostly to herself as she shakes her head vehemently.

He didn't just say what I think he just said, did he? How could he know? We were so careful. Well maybe not if he had paid any attention to Leah's thoughts in the past four months. She was pretty reckless now that she thinks about it more.

He shrugs placing his hands in his cutoffs. "All I'm saying is you shouldn't make yourself the mistress at nineteen years old. Not when you have sexier, bigger, better pursuits right in front of your face. You're young, beautiful, funny, smart, better than that. Not to ment—"

"Stop doing that!" she runs her fingers through her hair in frustration trying to calm the racing of her heart.

"Doing what?"

"Talking."

"Why would I stop talking now that you're finally listening?" he questions as he dark brown eyes assess her.

"Because I'm teetering on the edge of a complete meltdown."

Jake chuckles crossing his arms across his chest. "This I gotta see."

"You're an ass!" she groans.

"So I've been told."

"Stop it, Black."

"Tell me I'm wrong," he challenges.

Leah's legs begin to itch after she verbalizes the lie. "You're wrong."

"Okay." He backs away, hands in the air, a thin smirk adorning his face. "We are friends right?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

She exhales sharply choosing to remain silent as her wolf answers the question in her head. The best!

"I'm just asking Leah. No shame in letting me in. I'm one of the good guys, you know?"

"I don't have time for this shit," she says, hopping up from her chair, grabbing at random sheets of paper, making herself busy to hide her impending anguish. Though she knew she couldn't hide her cheetah racing heartbeat or the look of panic that laced through her narrowed eyes. She goes to the right side of the room, opening up a file cabinet, placing the papers into the correct folders. Turning around, she finds Jake against the wall across from her: cool, calm, composed, as if nothing had happened.

"You need to make time Lee," he says. "You need to vent. It's as plain as the nose on your face that you're hurting. You might be able to fool the pack, the reservation, Uley… yourself." His eyebrow rise a few times when he pauses, stepping even closer. "But I've been in here," He taps his own forehead with his index finger. "and I actually pay attention. So you can't fool me. Stop fighting me… and tell me what's on your mind. You'll feel better when you do."

She watches him. Ponders his words.

Jake continues. "Let me take you to lunch. I know a place where we can talk. None of the other guys know about. It will be good for you to get away, get you to relax a bit, unwind—"

Leah shakes her head interrupting him. "Cant, I don't have the time."

Jake brow rises. "Can't? Or won't?" he pauses mostly for effect before adding. "Sam is never going to leave Emily and eventually if you two keep at it she's going to find out. Surely someone who graduated at the top ten percent of her class knows that, right?"

Leah turns back towards the open file cabinet, clenches her jaw, closing her eyes for a moment fighting the tears that wants to break through. She had already cried herself to tears over this mess agreeing with herself to never do it again. And here the asshole was bringing it up all over again.

"Don't you think I know that? Go bother that Swan girl you're always drooling after, I have better things to do with my time." Leah waves him away with her hand but he ignores her.

"She decided to go chase after Cullen." Leah can feel his shrug as his scent begins to come closer. "Besides what if I don't...never wanted her like that? What if I was just using her to get this certain she-wolf's attention?" his eyes burn into her back, daring her to turn around to face him. "What would you say to that, Clearwater?"

Uh-oh. Her body was pinging like a Geiger counter and Jake was radioactive. The closer he got, the hotter she became. She turns back to scowl at him until she realizes how close he is. "I don't want you."

He stops moving forward, his lips curve into a knowing smile as he waggles his eyebrows. "You keep saying that, but I know something you don't know..." he licks his lips. "You do want me...or will...soon enough."

"Cocky much?"

"I'm not being cocky. I'm just good at reading body language."

"You are so full of shit." She bends down, grabs her purse by her feet, and holds it in front of her like a life preserver.

"Your heart rate has picked up, your pupils are dilated and you smell absolutely tantalizing." he grins leaning into her.

Well damn, he had her there. Heated embarrassment crept up her body causing her to scowl.

"Go away, Jake I have things to do." She fumbles in her bag for her keys. If she could only get past him to get out of here.

"Go out with me."

She jerks her head up at the request, "What?" Her keys and bag forgotten as they fall to the floor while she sputters. "No. H-h-h-hell no."

"It wouldn't be so bad." he holds up three fingers while vowing. "Scout's honor."

"How old are you, ten?" Leah rolls her eyes fighting off a laugh. "I'd rather have a root canal."

He doesn't seem insulted. What would it take to get him angry, to hurt his feelings? To get him the hell out of her Baitshop?

She had no idea when he had closed the distance between them, but one second he was still a good distance away and the next...

The next her back is against the wall, Jake's sex pressed into hers. His eyes seemed to rest possessively on her mouth. She could see dark, dangerous desire in the depths of his brown eyes, could smell and feel his need. Her palms press into the rough surface of the walls while her body seemed to settle itself perfectly against his. He moved his hips slightly and she rose an inch off the floor.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll put me down." She threatens, but even to her own ears her voice falls short. Her wolf was liking this, a bit too much, if anyone asked Leah alone.

His breath whispers across her lips. "Don't worry Clearwater, I only kiss the willing." He winks before caressing her cheek with his thumb. "I promise you that going out with me is way more fun than dental surgery."

Well, that's a promise if any. Need throbbed within her, yet she was aware of the darker emotion haunting her.

Sam. The door still wasn't closed with him and Leah was pretty sure she wasn't ready for this confident Jake that exuded so much power. Something that she would never voice, but still.

She tries to shifting herself in order to place her feet back on the floor. A rumble between a chuckle and a groan crawls up his chest, vibrating through hers. "You aren't helping right now, Lee."

"I'm . . . seeing someone." she blurts out, hoping that would put some distance between them. As her wolf felt a flash of pure feminine pleasure that he was struggling so badly.

One perfectly thick formed brow rises but he makes no motion to put her down. "You're seeing someone that isn't Sam? Because he doesn't count."

"Yeah." She thought she'd shock him, but the expression on his face showed nothing but that stupid smirk and disbelief. So Leah huffs out in irritation. "Don't look at me like that, Black."

"Who is this guy then?"

"You don't know him."

"How do you know I don't know him if you don't tell me who he is?"

"He's not involved in the supernatural stuff."

"I know a lot of people not in the 'supernatural stuff', Leah."

She was digging this hole deeper and deeper. "He's not from around here. Let me down, I have to go."

"Got a date?"

"Yes a hot one." She pushes against his hard, muscled chest until slowly her feet touches the floor.

Jake steps away."A little early for a date, isn't it?" he inquires turning his head as she continue trying to shove him out.

"None of your business, Jake."

"Ahh, it's a booty call."

She narrows her eyes at him poking him hard in the chest as she speaks through gritted teeth. "It is not a booty call. It's a date."

He sounds amused when he says the next words. "He's taking you out to dinner at five a.m.?"

She clamps her lips tightly together.

"The movies, maybe?" he suggests with a smirk gracing his face.

"You're an asshole."

"An asshole who has a date with Leah Clearwater if she knows what's good for her."

"Are you blackmailing me?"

"Hmm, maybe…." He trails off for a moment before opening the door. "Maybe not, it's your choice. I should let you get back to your." he tries to keep a straight face as he says the next word, failing miserably. "'Date.' I'll see you around Clearwater."

He smiles, winks, and then he's walking out the front of the small Baitshop like he had accomplished something, leaving Leah to produce a smile that Jake doesn't see—the first in what feels like forever.

A/N: Team Sam or Team Jake? I already know who I choose lol...

No, I have not forgotten about ANY of my other incomplete stories. My old computer had caught a wind of bad luck, deleting every document I had saved and then caught a virus. I kind of went into a mini depression/tantrum about it, refusing to write anything that wasn't school related for months—which is why I haven't updated at all. But I'm back with better ideas, an even better laptop that is backed up to the max, so that issue will never happen again.

Sharing is caring so I'll be updating this, while re-reading through my other stories to get back into that mind frame. It's going to take a couple of days but I promise, I'm working on them as we speak-err-well as I type.

I missed all of you guys! The PM's and reviews haven't gone unnoticed, they actually made my day, just didn't want to leave anyone with any empty promises. Anyhoo I've already made this super long so I'll end this on this note.

Reviews, for me, are my kind of buried treasure. So. That would be lovely. :D