CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EMMA WASN’T LATE, but she wasn’t early, either. She planned it so that she arrived after several others already had drinks in their hands, the music blared, and some already found their adventure for the night, something she hoped to discover tonight as well, but doubted it. Men were just too timid, too many being raised as southern gentlemen instead of wolves who took what they wanted. She grew tired of gentlemen. She craved a wolf.
Trent Wilson’s house was a two-story Victorian with large columns in the front and plenty of windows, all of which were well covered tonight. Plush carpet ran throughout the house with expensive art pieces decorating every wall. Music softly crooned through the house, tempting lovers to find a playmate and enjoy themselves in the dim light
