Chapter 11 - Dani #2
“Most things are,” he said. There was humor in it, and something rougher underneath.
His wolf pressed against her through the bond, heavy and waiting.
“Dani,” he said. Just her name. Question and warning.
“Yes,” she said. She wasn’t entirely sure which part she was answering. “Don’t make me say please.”
His breath hitched. “Never,” he said hoarsely.
He kissed her.
The first brush was careful, like she might break. She didn’t. She caught his coat, dragged him closer.
Heat crashed through her, familiar and unfamiliar at once: eighteen and stupid in the snow, the ceremony’s sharp bite, ten years of what-ifs collapsing into now. He deepened the kiss, hand firm on her neck, their joined fingers tightening until it almost hurt.
“Mine,” he murmured against her mouth, low and rough.
She felt her own magic flare in response, the bond thrumming.
“Yours,” she said once, because he needed to hear it and so did she. “And you’re mine. Don’t forget that part.”
A sound rumbled out of him, almost a growl. In one motion, he eased her down onto the blanket, bracing himself so his weight didn’t crush her.
“Tell me no,” he said, voice frayed. “If you want to. You say it, I stop.”
Her heart hammered. Stars spun. Cold bit at any exposed skin. All of that felt far away.
“If I wanted to say no to this,” she said, fingers fisting in his shirt, “I wouldn’t have hiked up a mountain with you. ”
He exhaled, something like relief and surrender mixed, and kissed her again.
She didn’t know how many times she’d replayed the scene in her head.
Him sneaking into her bedroom, like he had since they were kids, sitting together on her bed watching some dumb movie.
It had been a few days after Arthur had confronted Fenred, and he…
something was different. She had looked over to find him peering at her with a mix of confusion and awe.
Before she could ask what he was doing, he was kissing her. And she kissed him back. And when he undressed her, all she could say was, please, God, yes.
That had been a long time ago. They were both older, wiser. No longer fumbling teenagers. And yet, as he laid her down on the blanket, she felt that old shyness rising. That pounding awareness deep within her that he was so much bigger than her. So much stronger.
And she liked it.
She kissed him back, deeper, her hands tangling in his long hair. He gave a groan of appreciation, the sound vibrating through his chest and rumbling over her like an ocean wave.
“Now is when you tell me to stop,” he rumbled, his lips kissing a fiery path down her jaw, her neck, pressing into the bite he had given her.
She sucked in a breath. Surely, surely she should tell him to stop. That was the sensible thing to do. That was what her mind screamed at her to do.
Instead, she sat upright abruptly, pushing him back.
His eyes snapped open in surprise before growing heavy-lidded as he watched her hands trailing down her sweater, teasing the hem.
Before she could think to second-guess herself, she yanked the material up and off, leaving her skin exposed to the cold Alaskan air.
Arthur’s gaze felt like fire as he took in her heaving stomach, her freckled shoulders, and the plain lace of her bra.
Then he lunged.
She barely had time to squeal before she found herself nestled between his legs, back to his front, his heavy hands resting on her stomach.
His lips brushed her ear, and she shivered, instinctively arching backward into his warmth, and his answering chuckle made heat pool between her thighs.
“So it’s like that, then?”
She let her head fall back against his shoulder, relishing the tingles as his breath met her skin. His hands, God his hands, were pressing into her stomach, rubbing small circles over her flesh.
“Yes,” she said, “we’re mates, aren’t we? This is what mates do.”
He paused, pulling her impossibly closer to him. She could feel the evidence of his arousal at her back, something thick and hot and hard pressing into her spine.
“I don’t want to take advantage of that fact.”
“Arthur,” she said, somewhere between a begging whine and a fierce snarl, “I’m not some blushing virgin. I’m a grown woman. I’ve given birth. I know what I want.”
He stilled, and she could practically taste his satisfaction, “And what do you want?”
“You,” she said simply, no preamble, no games. “I want you to touch me.”
Arthur Wells was many things. But first and foremost, he was a man of action.
His hand slid up to cup her breast as the other deftly undid the button of her trousers, gathering the material and shucking it down her legs. She helped him, kicking them off, letting her thighs fall apart.
She may have imagined it, but his breath caught slightly as his thumb rubbed over one peaked nipple, the coarse material of her bra catching on her sensitive skin.
“Please,” she whispered, pushing back into him, rubbing her ass against his impossible length. His answering groan sent wetness straight to her core. He sniffed the air once, ever the wolf, and his scent grew dark with heady arousal.
Before she knew it, two fingers were pushing through her folds, gathering moisture from her wet heat before moving up again to rub expertly at the swollen nub at the apex of her thighs.
Stars exploded behind her eyelids, and her head fell back with a whimper. It wasn’t long before his movements grew bolder, his hand pulling the bra aside to roughly palm her naked breast, his fingers dipping in and out of her with strong, confident thrusts.
She writhed and moaned in his lap, a familiar coil tightening low in her belly. He snarled in appreciation as her breath became erratic, uneven, her pleasure building to a peak.
She came with a choked sob over his fingers, her muscles clenching around him, her thighs trembling and weak.
She barely had time to remember her own name before he pulled them backward, arranging her so that she was straddling him, hands braced on his expansive chest as she ground down onto the tent in his trousers.
“Fuck,” he hissed, reaching down to free himself from the restraints of his clothes, “fuck, you’re even more beautiful now.”
Blossoming at the heat in his gaze, Dani lifted herself up onto her knees, rocking her pelvis to tease his hard length with her tight core, moaning as the engorged head bumped against her clit.
He hissed, grasping her hips tight enough to bruise. She didn’t care. She liked it.
With a trembling groan, she lowered herself onto his hard length, taking him inch by exquisite inch, practically gasping as her muscles stretched to accommodate his ridiculous size.
She could tell he was holding himself back, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused, his hands steady as she found a rhythm rocking up and down on him. Part of her wondered what would happen if he let loose, released the beast within.
The thrill of the thought made her clench, and he threw his head back and groaned, exposing the dark bite at the side of his neck.
Her bite.
Seeing it there, stark against his tanned skin, made whatever remnants of shifter blood within her howl in satisfaction.
He was hers. And she was his. As they reached their peak together, she clung tight to him, falling forward onto his chest, wetness at her eyelashes.
Later, when everything had slowed and gone quiet again, the cold rushed back. Arthur swore under his breath, manhandled the blanket over them, and hauled her in against his side.
“You’re going to get frostbite in very unfortunate places,” she mumbled.
“Worth it,” he said.
His arm was heavy around her waist, his chest a solid line along her back. Warmth seeped into her bones. The bond thrummed, low and steady.
She let herself lean into him, just for a moment. Rock under the blanket, scratchy wool, his heartbeat thudding under her ear.
“You all right?” he asked, fingers tracing circles on her shoulder.
“Not regretting it, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “Terrified. Tired. Overwhelmed. But…not regretful.”
His grip tightened. “Good,” he said quietly. “If you’d said yes, I’d have had to throw myself off the ridge.”
“Drama queen.”
“Alpha,” he corrected. “We’re known for it.”
She huffed a laugh against his throat.
They lay there, breath fogging together in the cold air, listening to the faint sounds of the town below.
“Arthur,” she said eventually.
“Mm?”
“You don’t get to panic tomorrow and pretend this didn’t happen,” she said. “No vanishing into meetings and coming back acting like this was all some mistake.”
He shifted to look down at her. His eyes were very pale in the starlight.
“I’m not running,” he said. “Not from you. Not from her. Not from this.” His thumb brushed the mark on her neck. “I did that once. I’m done.”
Her throat tightened. “Good,” she said. “Because I’m not running, either. Not this time.”
“Even if my father’s ghost starts yelling?” he asked, half-wry.
“Tell him to take it up with me,” she said. “I’m hard to scare these days.”
He laughed, properly this time. The sound settled something in her.
“We’re a mess,” she said.
“Aye,” he agreed. “But we’re our mess.”
Below them, the summit and its problems waited: hybrids, vampires, old grudges. Up here, there was just his weight, his warmth, the echo of his apology, and the fragile possibility that they’d finally stopped moving in opposite directions.
Dani closed her eyes, listening to his heart.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he murmured. “You’ll freeze.”
“Wake me if I do,” she said.
“I will,” he promised.
For the first time in a very long time, she believed him.