Chapter Seven
A firm knock rapped on the door and Kit startled hard. She was still wrapped in a towel and her wet hair hung in tendrils down her bare shoulders. The bathroom had made the entire room steamy.
“I don’t need housekeeping,” she called.
Another knock sounded. Crap. She scrunched her hair in one hand and then reached for the door handle and pulled it open.
Bridger stood there.
Kit yelped and closed the door as hard as she could, then stood there frozen staring at it. Maybe she’d imagined him. No, wait! He’d said he was going to bring the paperwork by.
Crap!
“Um, hang on, I’m not decent.”
“I was literally inside of you last night. I think you’re good,” Bridger deadpanned from the other side.
Oh. Right.
Kit counted to three to calm her nerves and then pulled the door open. She forced a smile as he came in.
“How did you sleep?” she asked, searching for anything to say to get them out of this awkward moment.
“I didn’t sleep a wink. You?”
She shook her head. “Not even half a wink. It’s going to be a long drive today.”
He stood there, those strange gold eyes searching her face. He was holding an iced coffee in one hand, and a red folder in the other.
“Oh,” he muttered, offering her the iced coffee. “I got you this. You know, for the road.”
There was a lie to his voice though. Okay. “Um, thank you,” she said softly, taking it from him.
“It’s some hazelnut girly bullshit with a pound of sugar and probably five hundred calories. Your wolf will probably grow weaker because of it. I hope you like it.”
“Hazelnut is actually my favorite.” She took a sip and holy moly, they did not make stuff like this where she was from. “I need to know where you got this, and what exactly this is, and what the ingredients are.”
“You like it?” he asked.
“Love it. And my wolf will be fine. She’s desensitized to sugar thanks to my sweet tooth. Thank you so much. This is fixing my entire life right now. Plus, it’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me in…well maybe ever.”
“After I fucked you and left you and then left your text on read,” he said, looking at her like she was crazy.
“Well, I don’t blame you. You were upfront.
You aren’t looking for anything, and you are mourning the loss of your mate.
I got myself in that mess. I actually can’t really get anything right lately, so last night tracked with my path in life right now.
” She lifted the coffee. “This is nice. Okay, I can sign whatever.” She did her best to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“Oh.” Bridger’s frown deepened. “Do you want a minute to get dressed? Or dry off?”
“Right.” She caught a glimpse of herself in the foggy bathroom mirror. She was still dripping wet.
“It’ll take me just a minute. I’ll hurry.”
“Take your time,” he said, taking a seat on one of the chairs by the table.
He was watching her, so she tried not to be too awkward as she began brushing her hair out.
It got tangled if she waited too long after a shower.
It was the bleach on the lower half that made the tangles worse.
She sprayed her leave in conditioner and began to brush it.
In the mirror, she could see Bridger just watching her through the open door with curiosity in his darkening eyes.
“You can turn on the TV if you want.”
He stood up and she thought he was going to grab the remote, but he opened her suitcase instead and started rifling through there.
“That’s my stuff,” she said softly.
“This,” he said, holding up a green spaghetti strap tank top. “This with your eye color.”
She cursed the stupid butterflies in her stomach. She cursed them again when he brought her a pair of panties and a bra too. He set them on the counter beside her and paused right in front of her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I couldn’t sleep because you filled my whole fuckin’ head. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad with how I left last night.” He shook his head. “You’re not one-night stand material. You’re better than that.”
“Is that why you panicked?” she asked, daring to look up into his eyes.
He brushed his fingertip down her cheek and nodded.
“We’re in a mess, you and I,” she murmured. “Aren’t we?”
Another nod from Bridger, and he leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek. And then he eased back so slowly, teasing her with his lips. He was right there, two inches away, looking down at her lips like he wanted to kiss her.
“You’re going to hurt me on my way out of here, aren’t you?” she asked low.
Bridger inhaled and blinked, dragged his golden gaze to her and backed away. “I’ll be out here.”
She could just shut the door. It was only a few feet behind her. She could close it and dress alone and everything would be easier.
But she didn’t. He’d had a point. Last night he’d been inside of her. Technically, they were paired. This was their first and last morning together, ever.
So, Kit let the towel drop to the floor, and she pulled her panties on, and then her bra. She dared a glance in the mirror, and she could see two gold eyes on her.
She pulled the green tank top over her head and settled it onto her torso. “Can you hand me that dark pair of shorts in there?” she asked.
“No,” Bridger said in an easy tone.
She couldn’t help her smile. Such a man. Of course he would want her getting ready with her ass cheeks hanging out.
“You sure you want to unpair with me?” she teased.
“No,” he said.
She frowned and jerked her attention to him. He wasn’t smiling or offering a punch line.
“It’s hard to get excited about signing that paperwork while I’m looking at your perfect ass.”
She snorted and made her way out to her suitcase and got her shorts herself. “Here. This will help.” She pulled them on and zipped them up.
Bridger leaned back in the chair, one long, powerful leg outstretched. He had an elbow resting on the table and a finger hooked in front of his masculine lips. His eyes sparked with intensity.
That man had a way of drawing her body to him.
Slowly, she padded over to him and stood right in front of Bridger, lifted her chin higher into the air, and peeled off her tank top.
Why was she the way she was? He had treated her so poorly last night.
His eyes dragged down her curves and back up. “Why would you let me touch you after last night?”
“Lack of self-preservation.”
“Lie. Try again.”
“I can put my shirt back on.” Kit moved to pull the tank top back on, but he yanked it out of her hand and threw it onto the bed beside the papers that would end any connection between them.
“No,” he rumbled low. “Why?”
“Because the way you make me feel about myself when we are both lost in each other outweighs how you make me feel when you leave me cold.”
He sat there still for a three-count, then leaned forward and pulled her by the hips toward her. Even sitting down, he was nearly eye level with her. She thought he would ravage her, but instead, he rested his forehead between her breasts and exhaled slowly.
His grip on her waist tightened.
This wasn’t the game. It wasn’t the rough fuck she had been aiming for. This wasn’t the fast collision she hoped would stick in his mind for time to come while he was here living his life without her. This was something deeper. Something scarier.
Heart pounding against her chest, she lifted her hands and ran her nails against his scalp. He uttered a little moan and relaxed against her more. He massaged her hips with his thumbs, then wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly. She ran her hands through his hair again, and again.
It went on for a couple minutes before he eased back just enough to remove his shirt, and he immediately leaned against her again and wrapped her all up.
She slid her hands to his muscular back and ran her nails lightly down it.
Gooseflesh raised on his skin where she touched it.
Oh, he was a man who deeply enjoyed touch.
How tragic it was that he had lived without it for so long.
She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, him massaging little circles with his thumbs, and her scratching and massaging his back and head, but her body relaxed completely, and a feeling of drunkenness took her.
She swayed and he stood, lifting her with him.
He took her to the bed and laid her down.
He peeled her panties from her thighs and kicked out of his jeans, and he didn’t say a word as he slid into her.
She was ready for him, wet already just from exploring his body.
He drove deep and rested his lips on the side of her neck.
He intertwined their hands and pushed them above her head, holding her hands so firmly in his.
The pace he set was excruciatingly slow.
It was the perfect torture as he built the pressure in her middle.
It was a slow drive inside of her, holding for two seconds, and then easing back. Hold two seconds and drive slowly again.
Her breath shook, and she clung to his hands as he consumed her body. The weight of him on top of her was perfect. The powerful movement of his hips was everything.
“I don’t want it to end,” she said on a breath. “You’ll leave.”
He didn’t pause or make her pay for her admission. He eased back and his lips were right there. He stared into her eyes as he drove into her again, slow, so slow.
She closed her eyes as her body built up anticipation, but he squeezed her hands harder. “Look at me.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, remembering that he’d liked it last night.
His slow smile turned wicked, and his eyes lightened to that gold color she’d fallen in love with in his pictures.
He slid into her faster, harder, and there wasn’t a pause at the top anymore. He was going to let her finish soon. His lips were so close, but she knew the rule now. No kissing.
She looked at them, longing. She thought about it. He was right there. She could just lean up two inches and brush her lips to his, but she knew the rule. She knew.