Chapter 5 #2
The please did it. She eyed him for a minute, then scooted closer, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his side.
Even through the multiple layers of clothes she was wearing, the contact sent a jolt of heat through his blood, but he locked it down.
This was about keeping her safe. Warm. Nothing else.
Except she fit against him perfectly. Like she was made to be there. And when she unconsciously burrowed closer, her hand splaying across his chest, he had to close his eyes and count to ten.
"You really do run hot," she murmured. "It's like having a personal heater."
"Benefit of a high metabolism."
She was quiet for a moment. Then, "Tell me about your ex."
The question caught him off guard. "What?"
"The whole time you've been here, I've never seen you with anyone, so I'm assuming you're single. But there must have been someone. Before."
He tensed. "Why do you want to know?"
"Because I want to understand you. And something tells me whoever she was, she hurt you."
Perceptive. Too perceptive. After a long pause, he said, "Her name was Evie."
He hadn't thought about her in a long time, and he really didn't want to dig up his past now. But Jules waited for him to get his thoughts together, not pushing, and somehow that made it easier.
"She was... like me. From my world." He chose his words carefully. "I thought we worked. Same background, same... traditions. But I couldn't give her what she needed."
"Which was?"
"Me. I held back. Kept parts of myself locked away. She said I was too closed off. Too controlled." He laughed bitterly. "She was right."
Jules shifted to look up at him. "Why did you hold back?"
Because even then, some part of me knew she wasn't mine. Because my wolf never accepted her. Because I was waiting for you without even knowing it.
"I thought it would keep her from getting too close," he said instead.
"Did it work?"
"No. It just made us both miserable."
Her hand found his where it rested on his thigh, fingers intertwining. "I was engaged once. A few years ago. Before you moved here."
Now it was his turn to go still. "What happened?"
"Oh, the typical scenario. I came home unexpectedly and found him in our bed. With my best friend." She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Well, ex-best friend now. They're married and living in Denver. They have two kids."
Rage, hot and violent, flooded through him. His wolf wanted blood. Wanted to hunt down the man who'd hurt her and tear him apart. "Jules—"
"It's fine. It's ancient history. But it always made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. If I was too much. Too talkative. Too honest. Too clingy. Too... everything."
"There's nothing wrong with you." The words came out as a growl. "You're perfect."
She looked up at him, and the vulnerability in her eyes gutted him. "Then why do you keep pushing me away? Just like you did to Evie?"
"Because I—" He stopped. How could he explain? That he was dangerous? That his world would swallow her whole? That loving him meant accepting things that should be impossible?
Before he could find the words, she moved. The blanket she'd been wrapped in slid away, pooling unnoticed on the couch beside them. She shifted, rising on her knees and then settling directly over him, straddling his lap.
The air left his lungs in a rush. The sudden weight of her pressing down on his thighs and groin was a shock to his system, grounding and electrifying all at once. She was deliciously heavy and warm, her soft curves molding against the rigid lines of his body. The contact incinerated his restraint.
His wolf snarled, not in aggression, but in desperate, hungry approval. Mine. Right where she belongs.
The animal surged forward, battering against the thin veneer of his human control.
Her scent—vanilla, cinnamon, and the distinct, intoxicating musk of her arousal—flooded his senses, drowning out every logical warning bell ringing in his head.
His hands clenched into fists next to his thighs, pressing into the upholstery just to keep from grabbing her.
It took every ounce of his willpower not to seize her hips, not to grind deeper into the friction she was creating.
He was instantly hard, painfully so, and having her perched right there, seeking him out, was agonizing.
Her hands came up, cool palms framing the heat of his face, forcing his gaze to hers. Her green eyes were wide, swimming with a bravery that humbled him.
"Stop thinking," she commanded softly. "Just for once, stop thinking and just... feel."
"Jules—"
She kissed him.
It was soft at first, tentative. A question more than a demand. But when he groaned and his hands came up to grip her hips, she made a sound of triumph and deepened the kiss.
He was lost. Days of torture, of wanting and denying, shattered like ice. He hauled her closer, one hand tangling in her soft hair while the other pressed against her lower back. She tasted like coffee and sweetness and home, and his wolf howled in triumph.
Mine. Finally. MINE.
She rocked against him, making throaty little sounds into his mouth, and he nearly came undone. His control, already frayed, snapped entirely. In one fluid motion, he stood, lifting her with him, and pressed her against the wall.
"Lex!" She gasped his name, legs wrapping around his waist.
He kissed her like he was drowning and she was air. Like he could consume her through touch alone. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her body arching against his, and those little sounds she made drove him wild.
His hands found the hem of her sweater and the shirt underneath, pushing both aside to find warm skin.
She shuddered at the feel of his hands, her head falling back, and he took advantage, kissing down her throat to that spot where neck met shoulder.
The spot that called to his wolf. The spot where he'd mark her if she were his.
She is ours, his wolf insisted. Claim her.
"Please," Jules breathed. "Lex, please. I need—"
A massive crack split the air.
The entire cabin shook.