Chapter 15
Hadley
It’s been a long time since I let myself get this close to a man.
And honestly?
I’ve never been with a man like Rob Cray.
He’s overwhelming in the best way.
Big, solid, real.
Those blue eyes of his practically glow when he looks at me, like there’s something wild just beneath the surface—and my Bear?
Okay, yeah.
She’s very into that.
Because here’s the truth I’ve been avoiding. See, I’ve been ready for something real for a while now.
And I wasted years on a man who made me feel like I was too much and not enough all at the same time.
I’m not doing that again.
So if all I get with Rob is this—one incredible night, one reckless, heart-pounding choice—is it really so wrong that I want it?
That I choose it?
I’m not na?ve.
I know exactly what I’m doing.
And right now?
I want him.
“Show me your bedroom,” I say, the words coming out bolder than I expect.
But I don’t take them back.
Not when I feel the shift in him.
Not when his chest rumbles low, something deep and primal answering me.
Oh Gods.
It’s so sexy.
And apparently?
Exactly the right thing to say.
Because the next thing I know—I’m off my feet.
“Rob—!” I gasp, laughing as he lifts me like I weigh nothing, my arms flying around his shoulders as he carries me toward the stairs.
“You’re carrying me?” I tease, breathless. “You sure you can handle that, Stripes?”
He growls at the nickname, but he doesn’t answer with words.
He just moves faster—taking the stairs two at a time like he’s got somewhere very specific to be.
Yeah, he does.
My heart is racing.
My pulse is loud in my ears.
This is happening.
This is really happening.
We barely make it into the bedroom before he’s kissing me again.
And this time?
There’s nothing careful about it.
Nothing hesitant.
It’s heat.
It’s hunger.
It’s everything he’s been holding back since the moment he walked into my shop.
“Gods,” he breathes against my mouth, his hands sliding over me like he’s trying to memorize every curve. “You’re so soft. So fucking sweet. Fuck, Hadley, I want you so damn bad.”
That alone—just hearing him say it?
It sends a rush of heat straight through me, flooding my panties. My body reacts before my brain can even catch up.
“I want you too,” I admit, my voice softer now, but no less certain.
His hands still.
Just for a second.
So I cup his face, forcing him to look at me.
“Tell me I can have you—”
“You can have me,” I tell him, “but no claiming,” I add gently. “Not tonight. Just be with me. No promises. No lies. Just us. Okay?”
Something flickers in his eyes.
Something intense.
Like he wants to argue.
But he doesn’t.
He nods.
“Okay,” he says, rough but steady. “I can’t refuse you. Can’t deny you, Cookie. So, tonight will be just this. But tomorrow, we’re gonna have a chat, Hadley. A long chat. Understand?”
I nod because I do understand.
Tomorrow, I will deal with reality.
But right now? I just want to feel something.
“I got you,” he growls, reading my mind.
And that means more than anything else.
Because he’s choosing me too.
Not just the mating instinct.
Not just that feverish pull.
He’s choosing me.
And I swear I feel my soul soar in response.
The rest happens in a way I can’t quite separate into moments.
It’s slow. And then suddenly it’s not.
Rob’s mouth comes down on mine, and this time there’s nothing careful about it. No hesitation.
Just heat and need and something that feels dangerously close to claiming if I let myself think about it too long.
So I don’t.
I grip his shirt instead, fingers curling into the fabric as I pull him closer, needing to feel him—solid and real and here.
He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me as his hands slide over my sides, my back, like he can’t decide where to touch first.
Then his shirt is gone.
One second it’s there.
The next, it’s on the floor.
And I’m staring at him—at the breadth of his chest, the hard lines of muscle, the way he looks like something built to take and protect all at once.
My Bear surges.
Mine.
The word hits hard.
Loud.
Demanding.
And my heart?
It whispers the same thing.
But I push it down.
Not tonight.
Tonight is about choice.
About me choosing this. Choosing him.
His hands move to the ties of my dress, fingers rougher now, less patient—but still careful with me.
Always careful.
“Now’s the time to tell me if you changed your mind, Cookie. Go on, tell me to stop,” he murmurs against my lips, even as he loosens the strings.
I shake my head.
“Don’t you dare, Rob. I-I want this.”
That’s all the permission he needs.
The dress slips from my shoulders, slow and deliberate, his gaze following every inch of skin revealed like he’s committing it to memory.
Not greedy.
Not rushed.
Reverent.
And that just does something to me.
Turns me into a puddle of ‘yes please’ at his feet.
We move together after that.
Not in a frantic rush.
Not like we’re trying to get somewhere.
But like we already know where this is going.
Hands exploring.
Learning.
His touch is everywhere—my waist, my belly, my ass, my thighs—strong and steady, grounding me even as everything inside me spins.
And I touch him back.
Because I want to.
Because I need to.
Because this isn’t something he’s taking.
It’s something we’re sharing.
Clothes fall away piece by piece until there’s nothing left between us.
No barriers.
No excuses.
Just us.
The head of his cock bumps against my entrance, and I hiss at the contact.
“You don’t have to wear anything,” I whisper, cheeks heating as the words leave my mouth.
His brows lift, slow and wicked, like he’s savoring every syllable.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, leaning in just enough that his mouth brushes mine without quite kissing me. “You mean that?”
I swallow, but I don’t back down.
“I mean it,” I say, softer now. “I’m not ovulating and, well, you know. I’m clean.”
That last bit is a Shifter perk. No transferable STDs.
With supes, overall good health is kind of a given.
His gaze darkens, something rough and satisfied flickering there.
“Same,” he growls.
And that’s it—I lose it.
A laugh bubbles out of me, unexpected and a little breathless.
“Good to know it’s not your fertile time, Stripes,” I tease, nudging his shoulder.
He huffs out a laugh of his own, shaking his head like I’ve just done something outrageous.
“You’re gonna earn yourself a spanking, Cookie.”
“Oh, yeah?” I shoot back, lifting my chin. “You threatening me or promising?”
His grin turns downright sinful at that.
“Careful,” he murmurs, dipping his head to nip lightly at my earlobe. “I might just have to prove it.”
I gasp, but I’m smiling, my hands sliding up his chest, pushing at him just enough to create space.
“Big talk for a guy who just admitted he’s not ovulating,” I say.
“Mm,” he hums, catching my wrist and pressing a kiss to my palm. “And yet you’re still here with me.”
“Debatable,” I reply, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected.
He leans in again, stealing a soft kiss this time, slower, teasing.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says against my lips.
“Oh, really?” I murmur, brushing my nose against his. “And what makes you so sure?”
His hand settles at my hip, firm but not forceful, grounding.
“Because you keep kissing me back. And because your pretty pussy is positively soaked, Cookie, just begging me for attention.”
I want to say something sassy back.
I really do.
But he’s not wrong.
And that only makes him cockier—stupid, sexy Tiger.
He chuckles, low and pleased, before kissing me again—deeper this time but still threaded with that same playful edge.
And it hits me, right then—this isn’t my usual sexy time experience.
The laughter.
The teasing.
The way it feels light and intense all at once.
I didn’t know it could be like this.
Didn’t know you could laugh in between kisses, could feel this giddy and wanted and safe at the same time.
It feels new.
And maybe a little dangerous.
But I don’t pull away.
Not even a little.
And when he finally spreads my legs apart, fitting himself to my dripping entrance, I can’t deny the rightness of this.
I’m on fire for him.
Tingling from my head to my toes.
His glowing blue eyes are locked on mine as he presses his body fully into mine.
He’s big.
And thick.
And even though I’m wet, it’s a tight fit.
“Gods, you’re so tight,” he growls. “That’s it, Cookie. Let me in.”
And I do. Because I trust him.
I relax my legs, just letting myself absorb him.
I feel it all—the heat of him, his smooth skin, our breath tangling together—and everything else fades.
There’s no past.
No future.
No Fates.
No app.
Just this.
Just him.
I don’t feel uncertain.
I don’t feel afraid.
I feel wanted.
Desired.
Like every part of me—the soft parts, the strong parts, the parts I’ve hidden and the parts I’ve fought for—all of it matters.
His forehead rests against mine, his breath uneven.
“You feel so good. Like you were made just for me, weren’t you, Cookie?” he asks, voice rough but softer than before.
My heart stumbles.
Because my Bear is roaring.
My heart is reaching.
But my mind—my mind holds the line.
It has to.
Because everything else is slipping.
I cup his face, forcing him to look at me, needing him to see me—not just feel me, not just want me, but understand where I’m standing in this moment.
“Please, Rob,” I whisper, my voice softer than I intend, threaded with something that feels dangerously close to need. “I need you to move…”
Not because I don’t want him close.
God—because I do.
Because the closeness is too much and not enough all at once. Because every inch of him pressed to me makes my thoughts blur and my body ache and my heart—
My heart starts doing things I am not ready for.
“Admit it, Hadley,” he murmurs, his voice rough, coaxing, like he’s trying to pull something deeper out of me. “Admit we’re good like this.”
The words hit somewhere deep.
Somewhere fragile.
He shifts, and the sensation pulls a breath from me, sharp and unsteady, my fingers tightening against him as I try to hold onto something solid.
Because this—this feels right.
Too right.
And that’s exactly what terrifies me.
“No,” I say, even as my body betrays me, leaning into him, asking for more without permission. “No claims. No forever. Just right now.”
My voice shakes a little.
Not from uncertainty about what I want.
But from knowing how easily I could want more.
Something flashes in his eyes then.
Dark.
Intense.
Possessive in a way that makes my Bear rise up, answering him, reaching for something bigger than this moment.
Mine, she whispers.
My heart echoes it.
And I—I shove it down.
Hard.
Because I’ve been here before.
Not like this, not with someone like him, but I’ve given too much, too fast, to someone who didn’t hold it the way it deserved to be held.
I won’t do that again.
Even if everything inside me is screaming to.
He holds my gaze for a long second.
And then—he nods.
“Right now,” he agrees.
And the way he says it?
It’s not dismissive.
It’s not careless.
It’s like he’s accepting the boundary even though he doesn’t like it.
Even if part of him wants to push past it.
That matters.
More than I want to admit.
So when I pull him down to me again?
When I choose him again?
It’s not because I’m losing control.
It’s because I’m deciding to let go of it.
Just for this.
Just for tonight.
Everything else fades.
The doubts.
The questions.
The what-ifs waiting for me tomorrow morning.
Because right now, I feel full in a way that isn’t just physical.
It’s deeper.
Warmer.
Like something inside me that’s been quiet for a long time is finally being seen and answered.
And that scares me.
Gods, it scares me.
Because this isn’t just attraction.
It isn’t just chemistry.
It’s connection.
The kind that sneaks up on you and wraps around your heart before you realize what’s happening.
The kind that can break you if you’re not careful.
But I don’t pull away.
I don’t stop.
Because I am doing this. I am choosing this—him.
And for this moment—that just has to be enough.
It has to be.
So I let myself have it.
All of it.
The warmth.
The closeness.
The feeling of being held by someone who knows he’s rocking my world.
Because whatever happens tomorrow?
Whatever we have to figure out when the sun comes up?
This?
This is worth it.
Even if it costs me later.