13 #3
I spread her legs further, leaning her back, tracing her entrance. I wish I had the presence of mind to take my time with her, to build her up slowly and tease every ounce of pleasure out of her body.
After the full moon passes, I promise myself, knowing that day will never truly come. I can’t let it.
She moans when I drag my fingers through her folds, tilting her head back. I kiss her jawline, making my way to just below her ear.
It’s hard to take my attention off this spot, noticing the little freckles that decorate her skin. I can’t comprehend why no one’s written a song about these freckles or framed them in a museum. My mate deserves to be fucking worshipped.
My mouth traces the vulnerable, delicate curve of her neck. It would be so easy to just sink my teeth in and claim her for myself.
“If you’re not sold yet on the camping in my truck thing, I was thinking we could pack a cooler of drinks, drive up to that ridge that has a perfect view of the falls. Make a real night of it,” she suggests. “Just to give it a try.”
I’m sorely tempted, revisited by the memory of her ass sticking up to the sky as she bent over the back of her tailgate, back arching obscenely, the scent of her arousal on the air.
“Maybe we can just put a pin in the whole dives, diners, and drive-ins part of the idea,” she continues on, tripping over a little hitch in her breath. As if running away with her was the least appealing part of this fantasy.
“I can’t,” I manage to tell her, and nearly give in when her expression falls and she tries to hide her disappointment. “I’ve got some things I can’t move.”
“Oh, ok. But what about tomorrow? Do you plan that far ahead?”
I would tell her I’m unavailable for every full moon night until the end of time, but my answer is barred in my throat. I might be beyond words at this point.
Instead, I hum a noncommittal note against her neck, pressing my fingers into the wet heat of her center. Her little moan of pleasure is chased by a frustrated sigh at my evasiveness.
“You should close the door at least,” she murmurs, stopping me when I’ve got two fingers buried in her and my thumb against her clit.
I glance behind me, the narrow doorway that’s still open to the expanse of the brewery. Perhaps the last thing keeping me in line is the thought that there might still be people still working in their own sections.
With the door closed, there’s nothing stopping me from tearing her clothes off, and greedily devouring every little detail of her, enjoying every inch of her.
The moon’s evening pull on my blood feels as present on my skin as a noon summer sun.
A little more, and I’ll start to shift, I’ll scare her.
She’ll be closed in this office with a monster.
I slow, taking a deep breath. I just need a sliver of self-control.
Enough to let her leave.
“I can’t. You should go,” I tell her, kissing her shoulder. It kills me to remove my hand from her before either of us is satisfied, but it has to be done. This much was a mistake. I smooth down the fabric of her skirt, gravity working to hide our little indiscretion.
Ava’s brows knit together in confusion as she searches my face. She waits a moment, probably for me to offer some kind of explanation, a reason I can’t make time for her.
If it wasn’t so close to the full moon, maybe I’d be able to come up with something as banal as being really busy at work or even whatever my excuse to Aiden was. But my mind is just so steeped in her presence, everything else just washes away.
When I don’t give her any answer at all, her mouth thins into a line, but she doesn’t argue. I almost wish she would.
“Fine. I guess I’ll see you when you’re not so busy,” Ava says, clearly disappointed this visit hadn’t turned out the way she wanted.
Still, she slips off my desk and stands on her toes to give me a kiss goodbye. She chases the kiss shamelessly after I pull back after the barest of contact, her eyes fluttering open.
I see the surprise in them, and it spears through me to hurt her even this much. Her gaze turns away defensively and catches just a second too long over the old photo of Celine’s graduation.
Ava’s stare hardens, and her mouth twists, but she says nothing.
She was right all along; this wasn’t something we should get into. We were wrong for each other in all the ways. It felt inevitable that I would hurt her.
I’ve always known that happiness wasn’t in the cards for me, that finding a true mate was unlikely. But now she’s right in front of me, and I can’t have her.
Unable to watch her leave as she moves toward the door, I lean over my desk. The curled-up edge of my desk calendar exposes the Saturday filled in with her handwriting, “Ava and Logan’s big romantic date night,” complete with a heart around it.
The feverish heat of the transformation drags a slow, clawing path up my spine. Even now, breathing in the scent of her skin and her hair, I can feel myself losing grip of that one thought: She needs to leave.
Ava stops in the doorway, turning back for a moment. “But you’ll text me, right?”
I lean heavily against the desk. The claws pushing out of my fingertips cut marks into the wood. “Sure. Yeah.”