Chapter Thirty-Two
CHEV
I STRUGGLE TO slow my limbs and remain calm as I notice the time. I’m running late, and that knowledge is making me sporadic.
Vanessa moved in two weeks ago, but we haven’t truly been able to enjoy one another’s company. She’s been so busy with work, but the elven facility she’s been struggling with has finally resolved its issues. I want to celebrate.
Vanessa was quite offended when I told her I wouldn’t be available to walk her home from work this evening, which I thought was worth it because I was going to surprise her with a delicious meal. A delicious meal I’m fucking up in every possible way.
I thought I’d remember the recipe for the wheat sticks better than this.
She made it look easy.
My mate will be here any minute now, and all I’ve got to show for it are burnt strings and a messy counter. At least the sauce I made is good. It wasn’t always that way, but I added salt until it was delicious.
Shifters don’t typically cook with salt, but requests for it have spread since Vanessa made our lands her home. She’s quickly creating a friend group, and even though I find her friends annoying when they’re constantly in my home stealing my mate’s attention, I’m glad she’s finding happiness.
I slam my fist against the counter before grabbing the pot on the stove and throwing the charred remains outside the back door. I forgot I needed water to cook the wheat strings, a mistake I won’t make again.
This is my favorite meal, mainly because it’s the first one my mate ever made for me, and now it will be the first one I’ve made for her. That’s romance if I’ve ever seen it.
I make sure to put a large amount of water into the pot before setting it back on the stove. This time, I won’t mess up. I also throw in a handful of salt before peering into the oven. Vanessa didn’t tell me how to make this, but I found a recipe online.
My cheese-covered bread looks crispy, and I crack the oven door open to smell it. The heat hits me in the face, but it’s worth it. It smells amazing. I love human food.
The water is just beginning to boil when the doorknob twists and my mate comes walking inside. She looks fantastic in her jeans and sweater, and I lean against the counter as she enters the kitchen. I’m playing it cool.
“What’s all this?” Vanessa asks.
She approaches, and I find myself holding my breath as she peers at the pots of boiling water and tomato sauce. Her cheeks turn red, and I watch the change before ducking and pressing my lips to hers. She’s gotten comfortable with my kisses, and I squeeze her tightly as I tease her with my tongue.
When I pull away, she’s breathless. Good.
“I made dinner,” I say.
The room is smoky from my first failed attempt, and Vanessa’s nostrils flare as she dips her finger into the sauce. Her eyebrows raise as she tastes it, and I rock back on my heels as I wait for her approval.
“It’s very salty,” she says.
I nod. “Yes, it is. Just like you.”
The way her nose scrunches tells me she’s not happy with my compliment, which I don’t bother trying to understand. My mate’s skin is very salty after a long day in the heat. It’s in her sweat, and I love it. Maybe that’s why I enjoy the table salt she’s stocked our home with so much. It tastes like her.
I step behind Vanessa and wrap my arms around her waist, eager to have her in my arms. I spent most of my day trying to catch up on the pack work I’ve missed during the last few years I’ve been prioritizing the females, which made the day go quickly. Not quick enough, though.
I still missed my mate.
Vanessa leans into my arms, still looking down at the stove. The action exposes her neck to me, and I quietly brush her hair aside before licking the dark-pink mark. Vanessa shivers, and I do it again.
“Chev!” She gasps, throwing an elbow into my side.
I groan and back away, pretending her elbow has wounded me, before returning my focus to the wheat sticks. The water is finally boiling, and I grab our last four boxes and pour them in. Vanessa watches from the side, and I take it as a good sign when she doesn’t step in to correct me.
“I’ll be right back,” she says, squeezing my bicep.
I nod, too busy checking the cheesy bread to inquire why she’s trying to run away from me so soon. I usually get two to three hours from her before she deems me annoying and insists I give her space.
Vanessa’s footsteps are light as she putters away, and I listen as she enters our bedroom and shuts the door. What’s she doing? I want to know, but she doesn’t like when I follow her around.
The strings are just beginning to grow soft when I hear the door open, and I about knock over the entire pot of boiling water when she enters the room in her leathers. I’ve only seen her in them once, and I take one look at her exposed breasts before groaning and spinning away.
I face the counter to hide my reaction. I don’t want Vanessa to feel like the leathers are a sexual thing, and I want her to be comfortable in them. That’s not going to happen when I’m running around with an erection the size of my forearm every time I see her in them.
Vanessa walks up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, and I resist the urge to cry at the feeling of her barely covered breasts pressing against my bare back. This is not good.
I grab Vanessa’s wrists and hold them against my abs, preventing her from wandering. She giggles, her soft body rubbing against mine as I shuffle to the side and continue cooking with one hand.
“What are you doing?” Vanessa asks, kissing between my shoulder blades. Why does she do this to me? “Turn around and look at me.”
I shake my head. I can’t do that. The second I do, she’ll see my erection and it’ll ruin the innocence of the leathers. Vanessa huffs when I don’t obey, and she pinches one of my abs between her pointy fingers.
I don’t relent. I want to see her so badly, but I can’t. I need time for my erection to soften, which is damn near impossible when she’s pressed against me like this. I’m going to die.
“Look at me, Chev,” Vanessa says. She sounds upset.
I squeeze my eyes shut before releasing her wrists and turning around. I can’t bring myself to look her in the eye, but after a long second, I give in to her orders and lower my gaze.
Vanessa is trying to kill me.
The leathers are dark, and she tied the top so tight, it pushes her breasts up. She holds my waist as I eye her belly and, eventually, her skirt. Her thighs look so soft. Are leather shirts always this short? I’ve never noticed. I don’t look at the thighs of other women.
“Come to the bedroom,” she says.
I swallow and point to the oven. “Dinner.”
My Vanessa smells of nerves as she leans around my torso and turns off the heat. I’m nervous too, but I don’t argue as she takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. I think my heart is going to explode.
When she pushes open the bedroom door, I freeze. What is this?
I take three steps back, struggling to understand. There are two black silk ties on the bed, neither belonging to me. I’m not stupid, though. I learned a lot while living in the Wrath manor with Gray.
I once wandered into his bedroom and found Silas tied up with silk ties that looked exactly like this. It was a scary sight, one I wish I could remove from my memory. Does Vanessa want me to tie her up? I will not.
I’ve never asked about her past with the ogres, but they have specialized interests and I’ve drawn assumptions. They liked to tie up their females, and I will not do the same to my mate.
My heart pounds as I pick up one of the ties and bring it to my nose. It smells like the Wrath trio. I’m not sure which one of them gave these to Vanessa, probably Gray, but I’m sure as fuck going to figure it out. The bond between us burns as my anger grows.
“I will not do this,” I say.
Vanessa frowns and glances between the bed and me.
“Oh…” There’s a long silence. “You sat on your hands last time, so I thought you’d be comfortable… I’m sorry.”
I gulp. What?
“You want to tie me up?” I ask.
Shifters don’t enjoy being restrained. My bear is on edge at the mere thought, the male angry and pacing inside my brain. I’d do it for Vanessa, but I don’t want to. I’d much rather sit on my hands or hold the headboard. Something I can easily break from.
Vanessa clears her throat and nods.
“I was talking with Charlie, and she said this might be a helpful way for us to be together,” she explains. “I liked it when you licked me because I was in control, and I thought maybe if I tied you up, I would be more comfortable.”
I drop the tie onto the bed. “Were you not comfortable that time?”
My chest grows tight with fear that she didn’t enjoy what we did. I’ve asked a million times, and she always assures me she liked it.
Vanessa frowns. “Of course I was.”
“If you were comfortable, why do you want to tie me up?”
I struggle to keep my voice low and calm as I ask my questions. Have I done something since then to make her uncomfortable? I sleep naked most nights, but she very explicitly told me it was okay. Maybe it’s because I wake every morning with an erection. It goes down quickly, but I can’t control my dreams.
I cross my arms over my chest.
Vanessa runs her hands through her hair.
“I want to do more than just oral, Chev,” she says.
Every muscle in my body stiffens. More than oral? Is she referring to sex? I was under the impression it wasn’t on the table. I’ll happily let her tie me up if it means sex. I’ll shove my body into a metal tube if it means I can feel my mate on my cock.
I glance between her and the ties before climbing on the bed and bringing my wrists to the headboard. Vanessa looks shocked by my sudden change of heart, and I wiggle my eyebrows before grabbing the ties and holding them out for her.
Knowing they’re for sex changes everything. I’ll do anything for sex.
Vanessa worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she takes the ties and kneels on the bed. She looks petrified, and I wince before sitting up and pulling her onto my lap. This isn’t right. I don’t want my mate having to talk herself into sex with me. I’d rather never have sex than do it when she isn’t entirely sure.
“It’s okay, my mate,” I say, wrapping my arms around her waist. “There’ll be no sex today.”
I want it, but I refuse to do anything when she’s nervous and unsure. My earlier confusion has ruined the mood, and I want everything to be perfect when she decides to take me.
“I’m sorry,” Vanessa says.
She clears her throat and moves to say more, but I bring my lips to hers to stop the words. She has nothing to apologize for. A conversation about the ties would’ve been better than a surprise, but Vanessa isn’t to blame. She probably thought I’d like the spontaneity.
Vanessa relaxes as I kiss her, and I run my hands over her exposed sides before sliding them to her butt. She giggles as I cup and squeeze, carefully touching her over the leather skirt.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper. “And I’m happy with what we have. I don’t need more.”
She relaxes further into me, and I lean against the bed’s headboard. Vanessa is still in my lap, her knees on either side of my hips. The position is dangerous, considering we’re both wearing leather skirts with nothing underneath, but neither of us comments on it.
My bear begins to purr when we smell Vanessa’s arousal, and I trail my lips down the side of her neck. She weaves her fingers into my hair, and her hands quickly travel to my abs. I love it when she touches my muscles.
“Put yourself inside me.”
I stiffen. What?
Vanessa pulls back and stares down at me, her cheeks flushed and chest heaving. I can’t tell if she’s doing this because she feels guilty, so I shake my head. She’s pushing herself too much, and it isn’t necessary. I don’t need sex.
It’s safe to say Vanessa doesn’t look pleased with my rejection.
“I love you, Chev, and I want to feel you,” she promises. “I’m not scared, and I’m sure this is what I want.”