FIVE #2
The sound of running water reaches my ears, and I stare at the closed door, knowing that any moment now, Sam will be changing into the shirt I gave him.
My shirt.
A low growl rumbles in my throat at the idea of seeing him in something of mine.
What if my shirt is big on him?
What if it’s big enough to swallow him whole?
I bet he’ll look so cute. So adorably pink in my pale blue shirt.
I realize I’m smiling like an idiot just thinking about it, when I hear the door crack open and my eyes shoot up.
Oh fuck, I didn’t think this through. I can’t—
I can’t fucking see him in my shirt without doing something I won’t be able to take back.
I ca—
Sam steps out, and every thought ceases.
Because it is big on him. Wonderfully big. Big enough that it’d cover the top of his thighs if he wasn’t wearing his dark blue slacks.
Fuck, don’t think about that. Don’t. Fucking. Think. About. That.
I groan internally.
Too late. The image is already seared into my brain.
He’s holding his own folded shirt and what seems to be an undershirt in front of his chest, and when he peeks at me, I’m immediately rounding the desk.
“Are you feeling better?”
My tone is low. Hushed. For his ears only.
I don’t need to speak louder anyway. I’m so close to him I could count each and every one of his russet-colored eyelashes.
Eyelashes that are still wet from earlier.
He doesn’t answer, just looks at me with those brown eyes I could drown in.
But then, he nods, smiling at me, and I can finally breathe again.
“Thank you, Devon.”
“You don’t need to thank me. You never need to thank me about anything, Sam.”
His throat bobs, and I realize I can see it perfectly well now that he’s wearing something this loose. He’s buttoned my shirt, but the collar is loose, exposing his pale, pink skin all the way down to his collarbone.
Exposing his nape.
My heart thrushes in my chest like a caged beast at what I’m considering doing, but I have to.
I have to see the mark for myself. I have to see the proof that he belongs to someone else, that my instincts are wrong. That I did the right thing not going after him that morning when I woke up and he wasn’t with me.
That he’s not… mine. Because he can’t be.
“Will you do something for me?” I rasp.
He blinks at me in question before his head dips into a nod.
“Turn around.”
His gaze is heavy on mine, but there’s no hesitation as he does as I ask.
As he turns around, and gives me his back.
As he shows me his unmarked nape.
There is no bite. There are no healed, silvery lines. There is nothing.
Just smooth skin.
Perfect, unmarked skin.
I zero in on that spot, unable to look away, my heartbeat roaring in my ears, my fingers trembling when I lift them to cradle Sam’s throat.
The catch in his breath travels through my palm, and I feel it quicken even more when I feather my thumb over his skin, running it from the short hair at the base of his scalp, down to the first bump of his spine.
“Where is your mating mark, Sam?” I whisper, my words ruffling his hair, and he fucking shivers.
He twists around, just enough so he can look up at me over his shoulder.
“I… I don’t have one.”
Vicious, untamed pleasure tears through me, and my hand instinctively squeezes his throat, the move making his eyes flutter, his pulse beating erratically in my hold.
Fuck, I need to calm down.
It could just be a formality. He could still be taken. He could still be waiting for his next heat to make things… permanent.
Never.
The word resonates inside me like the most absolute truth.
No one else will put a mark on him.
Every muscle in my body tightens, preparing to rip into shreds anyone who fucking tries. At least, until his gentle voice reaches me.
“It’s just me and Eli.”
Him and Eli.
Just him and Eli, no one else.
The relief that crashes into me threatens to send me to my knees. So I hold on to the only thing that matters right now, wrapping my other arm around Sam, pressing my hand to his belly, anchoring myself to him.
My head lowers as one need rises above all others, riding me harder than anything else, my eyes sliding shut as I nuzzle his nape.
Finally.
His scent is everywhere, consuming me in the best possible way. His body is trembling in my arms, but when I press a kiss to his skin, right where the mating bite would go, I know he’s not the only one trembling.
It’s a touch so small, so simple, but I can already feel myself unraveling, losing all sense of everything else but him.
How can this feel so familiar when I’ve only ever touched him once?
How can this feel like home to me?
How can he feel like home to me?
I barely register the faint thump as something falls on the floor, because all my attention is on him, on Sam, leaning into the touch, melting into it in a way that has me purring in satisfaction.
He likes this.
My Sammy likes this.
“Devon? Wh-What—” His question bleeds into the most perfect, small whimper I’ve ever heard when I suck my next kiss on that spot that drives me crazy.
But it’s when he completely gives in to it, clutching my arm with his hands, his neck lolling forward, baring everything to me, that my control shatters.
“Let me touch you again. Let me feel you one more time. It’s all I can think about since the moment you stepped into my office a month ago.” I mouth my next words on him. “Please, Sammy.”
Our combined harsh breathing is the only thing disturbing the silence in the room, my nervousness skyrocketing with every second that ticks by, and no answer comes from him. But I don’t dare release my hold. Not until he gives me his answer.
I’m dangerously close to cardiac arrest when I feel him move.
Turning into my arms. Turning to face me.
Flushed cheeks. Half-lidded, hazy eyes. Red lips. Fucking gorgeous.
I probably stop breathing when his arms come up to loop around my neck, and he pulls himself so close, his body melds with mine.
The look he gives me is shy and bold when he breathes, “Yes.”
Fuck, I’m so goddamn gone just being around him, it almost sounded like he said yes.
Better to check, just to make sure.
“Yeah?” I ask hoarsely, a hint of disbelief tinging my question.
Which pulls a smile and a chuckle out of Sam, the happy sound travelling through my bloodstream.
He’s still smiling as he bites his lip, my arms tightening around him at the sight. But his tone is calm and sure when he speaks.
“I want to feel you again, Devon.” My name in that soft murmur stirs something in me that has been slumbering for more than a year now. That has only ever stirred for him, for those liquid brown eyes peering up at me. “Will you make me feel good again?”
If it’s the last thing I do.
His cheek is hot when I cup it, his pulse jumping when I bring him closer.
“Yeah, beautiful.” I feel him shiver when I call him the way he likes, the way he wanted me to call him that night, his nails digging into the skin of my nape. “I’ll take care of you.”
He lets out a pleased hum that makes my cock pulse.
“Okay…” He presses his cheek further into my touch. “Will you kiss me, please?”
I fall into him like I’ve been dying of thirst and he’s the only one who can quench it.
And when my lips touch his, I know he’s the only one who can.