Chapter 9 #2
She leaned forward and kissed the bruise on my shoulder. Her lips were soft, cool. The sensation sent a shudder through me that had nothing to do with pain.
She kissed my collarbone. Then the hollow of my throat.
"Faye," I warned, gripping her hips. "You're playing with fire."
"Burn me," she murmured against my skin.
That was it. The last thread of restraint snapped.
I growled, flipping us over.
In one smooth motion, I had her pinned to the mattress, my body hovering over hers. I took my weight on my good arm, caging her in.
She looked up at me, her hair fanned out on the grey pillowcase like a halo. Her pupils were blown wide. She didn't look scared. She looked... ready.
"You want this?" I demanded, searching her face. "You want the Wolf?"
"I want you," she said. "All of you."
I lowered my head and kissed her.
This wasn't like the other times. This was slow. Deliberate. I kissed her with a terrifying tenderness, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her small body beneath mine.
Her hands came up to rake down my back, her nails scratching lightly.
I groaned, pulling back to look at her.
"I need to see you," I said hoarsely. "I need to see your skin."
I reached for the hem of her hoodie. She lifted her arms, helping me. I pulled it off and tossed it aside. Underneath, she was wearing a simple white tank top.
I ran my hand down her side, from her armpit to her hip, feeling the warmth of her.
"Beautiful," I whispered.
I dipped my head and kissed the slope of her breast through the thin fabric. She gasped, arching her back.
"Oakley," she panted. "Please."
"Please what?" I teased, nipping at the fabric.
"Take it off."
I sat back on my heels, looking down at her. "You take it off. I want to watch."
Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, but her eyes didn't waver. Slowly, with shaking hands, she reached down and grabbed the hem of her tank top. She pulled it up and over her head.
She wasn't wearing a bra.
My breath left my lungs in a rush.
She was perfect. pale, soft curves, pink nipples hardened by the cool air and arousal.
"God," I breathed, reaching out to cup her. My hands looked massive against her skin. The contrast—my scarred, tanned hands against her pale softness—was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.
She leaned into my touch, closing her eyes.
"You're so soft," I murmured, brushing my thumbs over her nipples. She whimpered.
"Oakley," she whispered. "My jeans. They're too tight."
I chuckled, a dark, ragged sound. "Let's fix that."
I moved down the bed, unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her legs. She kicked them off, along with her socks.
She lay there in just her panties—tiny, lacy things that did nothing to hide her.
I moved back up, settling between her legs again. I didn't take my pants off. Not yet. I needed to make sure she was ready. I needed to make sure I could control myself.
I leaned down and kissed her stomach, swirling my tongue around her navel. She twitched.
"You said I was dangerous," I murmured against her skin. "But you're the one holding the gun, Faye."
I moved lower. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down.
She was bare. Vulnerable. Open to me.
I looked up at her face. "Last chance, Mouse. Tell me to stop."
"Don't you dare stop," she said, her voice trembling.
I didn't.
I lowered my head and tasted her.
She screamed. It was a sharp, shocked sound that I swallowed with my mouth. She tasted like honey and musk and everything I had ever wanted.
I licked slowly, savoring the texture of her. She bucked against me, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.
"Oakley, oh god," she moaned. "That's... too much."
"Not enough," I growled against her.
I used my tongue, finding her rhythm. I listened to her breathing, to the way her heart hammered. I felt her muscles tense, then release.
I took my time. I worshipped her. I made her beg.
When she finally came, she shattered completely. She cried out my name, her body bowing off the mattress, shaking violently.
I held her through it, kissing her thighs, her stomach, soothing her.
When she finally settled, limp and breathless, I crawled back up the bed.
She looked wrecked. Her lips were swollen, her hair a mess, her skin flushed.
She opened her eyes and looked at me. There was awe in her gaze. And love.
"Your turn," she whispered, reaching for the waistband of my sweatpants.
I froze.
This was the cliff.
If I took my pants off... if I entered her... there was no going back. I would be claiming her. Biologically, emotionally, spiritually.
The condom issue was still a threat. But more than that, the bonding issue. If an Alpha knots a human... it changes them. It changes both of them.
"Faye," I said, catching her hand. "If we do this... if I get inside you... you know what it means?"
"It means we're together," she said.
"It means you're mine," I corrected. "It means I'm never letting you go. Not for grad school. Not for the NHL. Not for my father. If I claim you, I keep you."
She searched my face, looking for the lie. There wasn't one.
"Good," she whispered. "Because I don't want to go anywhere."
She pulled her hand free and tugged my pants down.
I groaned, kicking them off. I was naked now. Fully exposed.
She looked at me. At the size of me. Her eyes widened, but she didn't look away.
"You fit," she whispered. "We'll make it fit."
I reached into the nightstand drawer and fumbled for a condom—the last shred of sanity I had left. I put it on with shaking hands.
Then, I positioned myself over her.
"Look at me," I commanded.
She locked eyes with me.
"I'm going to hurt you a little at first," I warned. "I'm big. And I'm... eager."
"Just do it, Oakley," she breathed. "Fill me."
I pushed in.
It was tight. impossibly tight. She gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders. I paused, gritting my teeth, waiting for her to adjust.
"Okay?" I rasped, sweat dripping from my forehead.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Keep going."
I pushed deeper. Inch by inch. Until I was buried to the hilt.
The sensation was blinding. It was like coming home. It was like every missing piece of my soul had suddenly clicked into place.
I groaned, resting my forehead against hers. "Faye."
"I've got you," she whispered, wrapping her legs around my waist. "I've got you."
I began to move.
It wasn't gentle. It couldn't be. The need was too great. I pounded into her, finding a rhythm that was primal and demanding. She met me thrust for thrust, matching my intensity.
We moved together in the dark, sweating, gasping, creating a friction that threatened to burn the house down.
"Mine," I growled, biting her neck. "Say it."
"Yours," she cried out. "I'm yours."
When the end came, it was an explosion. I poured myself into her, emptying everything—my fear, my rage, my love—into her body.
I collapsed on top of her, crushing her into the mattress, my heart thundering against hers.
We lay there for a long time, tangled together, sweat cooling on our skin.
The silence in the room was absolute. But it wasn't empty. It was full of the promise we had just made.
I kissed her temple. "I'm keeping you."
"I know," she murmured, drifting off to sleep.
I stared up at the wooden beams, the pain in my shoulder forgotten.
I had broken the rules. I had crossed the line.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of the consequences.
Because I had her. And she was worth burning the world for.