37. Can't handle surprises?
He presses one hand over mine, the one holding the uniform against my chest.
"Change, my love."
"I— wait—"
But he's already started to unclasp his pants, shoving them down in one fluid movement. Now he's standing almost naked in front of me, and I can't help but stare, completely flustered.
"You could just turn around, you know," he says, catching my expression. "If you feel uncomfortable."
"I... I..." I stop talking completely, just taking him in. He's gorgeous—everything about him radiating strength—but what affects me most is his expression when he looks at me.
Like I'm something he's been craving.
"You what?" he asks,his voice soft and coaxing.
He obviously likes making me lose my thoughts.
My cheeks burn, but I force myself to meet his gaze. "I'm not uncomfortable."
The confidence in my voice surprises even me.
It's true—I'm not uncomfortable. The only worry I have is that maybe I'm getting too comfortable too fast.
"If you say so," he says.
He sounds way too pleased with himself.
Something sparks in me—a sudden urge to see how he'd react to a taste of his own medicine. Without thinking, my hands move to the buttons on my shirt.
I let it drop to the floor.
He pulls his new pants up, his back turned to me, but when he turns to look at me, his movements stop completely, the fresh t-shirt dangling from his hands.
"What are you doing?"His voice sounds raw and affected now.
"You wanted me to change, right?" I grab the hem of the top I'm still wearing and start pushing it up slowly. "So I'm changing."
"You are—" He stops talking as I pull it over my head, standing in front of him in just my sports bra.
"I am," I say back to him, trying to keep my voice steady.
The shirt he was holding drops to the floor. He actually growls—loud, the sound vibrates through my body, making my heart pick up speed.
"You know," I say, throwing his words back at him, "you could just turn around if you feel uncomfortable."
"Communicator." He lets out a breath that sounds more like a laugh. "You're full of surprises."
Then he does turn around, but not before I catch the way his jaw clenches.He moves to pick up his shirt, yanking it on in one swift motion, and even without wolf hearing, I can tell his breathing has changed.
A flutter of satisfaction runs through me.
When he turns back around, he crosses his arms over his chest and leans casually against the locker behind him, but his eyes never leave me.
"Maybe I'm not used to it."
"Why not?" I challenge. "Can't handle surprises?"
He lets out a deep breath, his eyes closing momentarily, and I see his fingers dig into his biceps.
"I can handle everything you give me."
"If you say so." I reach for the button on my pants, watching his face as I slowly pull them downward.
He watches without moving even the slightest bit—maybe without even breathing. His intense stare follows every movement, and I can practically feel the tension radiating off him.
I push my pants down completely, then slip into the new ones, taking my time with each motion. When I look up, his knuckles are white where he grips his arms, and there's something almost pained in his expression.
"Still handling it okay?" I ask, unable to keep the teasing note out of my voice.
"Yes," but the word comes out hoarse.
I tilt my head, putting on my best innocent look.Then I reach for the new clothes and put them on.