Chapter 11 – Carla
CARLA
Iwake slowly, more rested than I’ve been in a week. There’s a warm, solid presence at my back, an arm draped possessively over my waist.
Billy.
The pillow barrier we’d carefully constructed last night is gone, kicked to the floor sometime in our sleep. My wolf purrs contentedly, finally where she wants to be. I’m pressed against him completely, my back to his chest, and I can feel... everything.
Including the very prominent evidence of his morning arousal pressed against my backside.
Heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly.
“Morning,” Billy rumbles against my hair, his voice rough with sleep. He shifts slightly, trying to put space between us, but I find myself pressing back against him before I can stop myself.
He groans softly. “Carla...”
“The pillows didn’t last long.” I observe, my voice breathier than intended.
“My bear might have had something to do with that.” His arm tightens around me briefly before he forces himself to loosen his hold. “He’s not big on boundaries when it comes to you.”
Neither am I, apparently. During the night, I moulded myself against him, seeking his warmth and strength, even in sleep. And now that I’m awake, all I can think about is the motel. How his hands felt on my skin. How he moved inside me. How he made me scream his name.
I shift restlessly, trying to ease the ache building between my thighs.
“This is nice,” I admit quietly.
“Yeah,” he agrees, voice strained. “Too nice. I should... I need a shower. A cold one.”
He extracts himself carefully and practically flees to the bathroom. The loss of his warmth makes me want to call him back, to pull him down into the bed and finish what our bodies clearly want.
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling, body thrumming with want. The memory of that night at the motel floods back—his mouth on mine, his hands everywhere, the delicious weight of him above me.
When Billy emerges from the bathroom, his hair is damp, and he’s wearing jeans that sit low on his hips, no shirt.
I nearly swallow my tongue.
Water droplets cling to his chest, highlighting every ridge of muscle. His abs flex as he moves, and I track a particularly adventurous drop as it slides down toward his waistband.
“I’ll make breakfast,” he says, catching me staring. A knowing smirk plays at his lips as he reaches for his shirt. “You shower. Take your time.”
By the time I emerge, dressed and trying to look unaffected, the cabin smells like bacon and coffee. Billy’s at the stove, mercifully wearing a shirt now, humming under his breath.
“Smells amazing,” I say, sliding onto a barstool.
“My grandmother’s recipe for pancakes.” He sets a plate in front of me, then leans against the counter opposite. “Guaranteed to cure what ails you.”
We eat in charged silence, both hyperaware of each other. When he reaches for the syrup at the same time I do, our fingers brush, and we both freeze.
“Sorry,” we say in unison, then laugh awkwardly.
He rubs his thumb over the spot where we touched, as if trying to preserve the sensation.
“I have to work this afternoon,” Billy says, clearing his throat. “But I was thinking... maybe we could go for a walk first? Just around the property. Baby steps.”
The idea of leaving the cabin makes my chest tighten, but with Billy beside me... “Okay. Baby steps.”
After breakfast, we venture outside. I stay close to Billy, my hand finding his without conscious thought. His fingers thread through mine, solid and reassuring.
The forest is peaceful, birds singing, sunlight filtering through the trees. Normal. Safe.
“See?” Billy says softly, squeezing my hand. “You’re doing great.”
We make it about fifteen minutes before my breathing quickens, irrational fear creeping in like fog.
Billy notices immediately, turning me to face him.
“Hey. Look at me.” His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
I focus on his eyes, his steady presence, until the panic recedes like a wave pulling back from shore.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t apologize. You did amazing. Fifteen minutes on your first try.” He presses his lips to my forehead, and I breathe him in, letting his scent calm my racing heart.
When we return to the cabin, Billy reluctantly prepares to leave for work. He sits on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots, movements deliberately slow.
“Will you be okay?”
“Maya said she’d stop by,” I assure him, though already, I feel the anxiety building at the thought of him leaving. “I’ll be fine.”
He stands and crosses to me, cupping my face in his hands. His thumbs trace my cheekbones as he studies me.
“Call if you need anything. I mean it.”
“I know.” I turn my face into his palm, pressing a kiss there.
He kisses my forehead, lingering longer than necessary. “I’ll be thinking about you.”
After he leaves, the cabin feels too quiet. I try to distract myself with chores, but my mind keeps drifting to this morning, to how right it felt waking up in his arms.
Maya arrives around two, bringing groceries and gossip. She takes one look at me and grins.
“So, how was your night with the pillow wall?”
I groan, dropping onto the couch and covering my face. “There was no pillow wall by morning.”
“Shocking,” she says dryly, unpacking groceries with practiced efficiency. “And?”
“And he’s being a perfect gentleman. Which is driving me crazy.”
“Good. You both need time to figure this out properly.” She pauses, holding a box of tea. “Though from what I hear, he’s having a rough time at Taaffe’s.”
My stomach drops like a stone. “What do you mean?”
“Some of the pack doesn’t trust him. He worked for Leon until last week, unlike Marcus, who got out years ago. There’ve been... comments.”
Guilt washes through me, cold and sharp. I haven’t considered what Billy is facing in town.
“What kind of comments?”
“Nothing violent. Just... distrust. Questions about his motives. Some think he’s only here to cause trouble.”
“But he saved me. He betrayed his own father…”
“I know.” Maya’s voice is gentle but firm. “But trust takes time. Especially with the Lennox name attached.”
I spend the rest of the afternoon anxious about Billy, pacing the cabin like a caged animal. When he returns that evening, I study him more carefully. There’s tension in his shoulders, a tightness around his eyes.
“How was work?” I ask carefully, moving to meet him at the door.
“Fine,” he says, but I catch the lie in the way his jaw tightens.
“Billy.”
He sighs, sinking onto the couch. The cushions dip under his weight, and I settle beside him, close enough that our thighs touch.
“It’s nothing I didn’t expect. They don’t trust me. Fair enough, I wouldn’t trust me either.”
“What happened?” I take his hand, threading our fingers together.
“Just comments. Looks.” He runs his free hand through his hair, the gesture tired. “Sean almost didn’t hire me, but Ethan vouched for me. Even then...”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what you’re facing here.” I squeeze his hand, trying to convey everything I can’t say.
“Hey.” He turns to me, his thumb stroking across my knuckles. “This isn’t your fault. And it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”
The conviction in his voice makes my throat tighten. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Other way around,” he says softly.
We sit quietly for a while, connected by our joined hands. The weight of everything unsaid hangs between us.
“Craig was in town today,” Billy says finally. “Didn’t come into the bar, but I saw him driving past. He’s sniffing around.”
Fear spikes through me, sharp and immediate. My whole body tenses.
“Do you think he’ll cause trouble?”
“Eventually. But not yet. He’s testing the waters, seeing how much support I have here.” His jaw clenches. “Which isn’t much.”
“We should tell Cooper-“
“No.” Billy’s voice is firm. “I need to handle this myself. Prove I can protect you without running to the Alpha every time there’s a threat.”
“Billy, that’s unnecessary.”
“Please.” He looks at me, and I see the pride there, the need to stand on his own. “Let me do this my way. For now.”
I nod reluctantly. “Okay. But if it escalates...”
“Then we’ll involve Cooper. Promise.”
He pulls me against his side, and I curl into him, breathing in his scent. My wolf settles at the contact, content to be close to him.
That night, we reconstruct our pillow wall, both pretending it’ll last. I catch him smiling as he places the last pillow with exaggerated care.
“This is very mature of us,” I say, fighting my smile.
“Very.” He agrees. “I’m sure it’ll work this time.”
But as I drift off to sleep, I already feel myself gravitating toward him. My wolf won’t accept anything less than being wrapped around our mate.
And neither will I.
One step at a time, I remind myself. With Billy beside me, I can do this.
One step at a time.