21. Nick
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
NICK
There are things I want to tell her. Need to tell her.
But how am I supposed to function when she purses her lips around that fork? How am I supposed to focus on anything other than what those lips would look like wrapped around me?
I close my eyes and take a steadying breath, willing my cock to calm the fuck down where it presses painfully against the zipper of my pants.
There will be time for that.
“Werewolves don’t shift other than on the full moon,” I blurt out, trying to get my sanity in check. “You won’t need to worry about that happening when I get overwhelmed or upset—that’s only shifters.”
I open my eyes to see curiosity lighting up her face. At the end of the day, my woman is curious—a seeker of more.
Maybe I need to trust that if I’m open and vulnerable with her, she won’t leave me behind like everyone else.
“I don’t lose myself on the full moon when I’m in my wolf form. I keep my mind, so you would never be in danger.” I lean in close, needing the touch of her skin to ground me. To help me open up to her. “My instincts are just a little harder to control. I’m a bit more…”
“Wild?” she supplies, a suggestive gleam in her eye.
“Primal.” I let the word soak in to the space between us. “Sex is similar. It’s harder to control my instincts, but as I’m not in my werewolf form, it’s still easier than on the full moon.”
Her eyes glaze over with lust, desire soaking the room until I’m practically drowning in the scent of it. It’s as if she wants me at my most primal—my most base self.
The Goddess knew what she was doing when she fated Isabella to me.
I lift my hand, thumb trailing along the bruises I’ve left on her neck, marking her as mine as much as I can without making the claiming bite.
I press softly into one until she moans. “There are also some…physical differences.”
Hazy eyes meet mine, seeking answers even now.
I take in a deep breath of our mixed desire. Just a hint of what our scent will be once we’re officially mated. “Do you know what knotting is, Izzy?”
She shakes her head, trembling on the table. I brush the discarded cake to the side and get both of my hands on her. “Werewolves have a knot. When I get close to climax, the base of my cock will thicken and lock me inside you.”
Of course, I don’t mention that it only happens with our mate. That I’ve never actually popped a knot before and am just working off what my father taught me.
That my first knot will be with her.
Her long eyelashes flutter, pupils dilating even more. “For—” her throat works around a swallow “—for how long?”
A wicked grin grows on my face. “No idea.”
She lets out a little moan. “Okay.”
“I’m not in any rush.” I push my forehead to hers. “We can go at the pace we want.”
She laughs, placing her hands on my chest. “Do you really think we can keep our hands off each other for much longer?”
She has a point. But what she doesn’t know is that if she commanded me to leave her, I wouldn’t touch her for the rest of my days.
“Let me walk you home, Izzy,” I say instead. “We’ve talked about a lot, and you deserve time to process it.”
She pouts, swollen bottom lip jutting out so sweetly that I can’t help but kiss it.
Kiss her.
Just once more.
My hand on her neck tightens a fraction, a little test. To see. Izzy doesn’t disappoint, gasping into my mouth and pressing so close I can feel the heat between her legs against me.
“Home, petite copine,” I say, releasing her mouth. “I’m not going to fuck you on this table.”
She slips off with a put-out sigh, sliding down my body as she does. Demon woman.
“Do I at least get to keep the cake?” she asks, fluttering her beautiful green eyes at me. If she asked me like to fuck her right here and now, just like that, I’d actually consider it. A cake is nothing.
I nod. “Georgie put a cake container in the back. Let me go grab it.”
As I walk back to get the container, I’m unable to stop mulling over the entire evening. I didn’t expect it to go in this direction. Our push and pull are natural and instinctive. We’re able to go from serious and passionate to sweet and teasing like waves on the ocean shore.
We just work.
She accepts me. The wounds, the vulnerability, the fear of being abandoned. All of it.
“Nick?”
Izzy’s voice breaks me out of my head. I’ve been staring at this container for who knows how long.
“Sorry,” I say, turning. “Let’s get your cake boxed up.”
Her smile softens, understanding in her eyes, as she comes to my side, placing a hand on my shoulder. She doesn’t pry, just lends me her strength in case I need it.
I truly am the luckiest damn werewolf in the world.