Chapter 46
Nika
Day Three
His arm slid beneath my neck and lifted me. The water bottle came next and I drank. When I tried to push it away he didn’t relent.
“Drink a little more or you’ll become dehydrated,” he murmured.
He had no shame.
Like none whatsoever.
Those were the exact words he’d used on day two when he’d had his cock jammed somewhere it had no business being and had taken a break to discuss the nutritional values of his own come with the calm authority of a man delivering a health briefing. I’d drunk that too, in the end. Under duress.
I glared at him and drank the water.
He smiled and slid his hand between my thighs.
The cramping was gone but the need remained—that dull ache that could go from manageable to unbearable in under sixty seconds.
The Alpha in him had been delivering every single time without complaint, which was the only thing standing between him and another brick request.
Once I was finished he set the bottle on the nightstand.
His fingers moved slowly, tracing the outer edge of me without giving me what I wanted.
“Still so wet,” he murmured, trailing up to my clit. “Unfortunately I can’t get my knot stuck in you right now.”
A growl rumbled in my chest.
“Now, now. Killian and Dubhán are about to arrive with the food delivery.”
Food. I supposed we needed it.
I moved closer to his chest, pressing my face into his scent.
The more I inhaled the further I migrated—until I found his neck.
So thick. The muscle would be extraordinary to sink my teeth into.
I’d leave my mark and everyone would know.
His taste was mine already—salty and sweet and entirely addictive.
His fingers curled around my neck.
“Bad girl,” he murmured. “Always trying to tempt me.”
I glanced down.
What a joke.
His cock was tenting the white cotton sheet like an accusation. He was entirely complicit in everything happening in this bed and had the audacity to blame me.
Bite that neck. Go on. Sink your teeth in and take a chunk.
I resumed kissing his throat, tasting the salt of his skin, burying my face into it.
Not yet.
Close. But not yet.
I moved to straddle him.
Food be damned.
I came first.
Bad Girl’s cackle made me smile.
??
??
??
They left the food outside the apartment door.
I didn’t know who was cooking it or who delivered it and I didn’t care.
He’d been briefly annoyed with me when they arrived—approximately five seconds of mild disapproval—because I’d been lying on top of him, happily knotted, with absolutely no intention of moving.
Served him right for his persistent attempts to keep me hydrated. His cock was enormous and had taken up residence somewhere between my stomach and my lungs. A girl had to breathe occasionally.
The heat was a haze.
I drifted in and out of it—surfacing, submerging, surfacing again—but the one constant was him.
Always him. A cool washcloth when I was burning.
A basin of water. Food that I barely touched.
He’d arrived on day one with several cases of water lined up against the wall like he’d planned for a siege, which in retrospect was exactly what this was.
I couldn’t remember anyone caring for me like this.
Not since childhood illness, when my mum would sit on the edge of the bed and press her cool hand to my forehead. Not Finley—Finley had once asked me to keep the noise down when I had a stomach bug because he was trying to watch something. Not anyone in the years between.
And here was this Alpha wolf CEO—this composed, deliberate, thirty-six-years-of-waiting man—with a washcloth and a water bottle and infinite patience, tending to me like it was the most natural thing he’d ever done.
It may have softened me a touch.
It was probably why I kept eyeing his neck like something feral.
My room smelled like us now—completely, irreversibly.
His clothes had stopped working on their own.
The scent was flat without him in it, just an echo of something that needed the source.
I took my hits directly from his skin now and any time he wasn’t within reach made me irritable in a way I didn’t bother to examine.
I lost count of time.
Days.
Responsibilities.
None of it reached me. All that mattered was whether he was there when I reached for him.
He always was.
Bad Girl hummed.
She seemed remarkably unbothered these days. Settled in a way she’d never been—not dormant, not watching from a distance, just present and calm and entirely at home.
Which told me everything I needed to know.
But that niggling voice reminded me how charming Finley had appeared in the beginning.