Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
This is for Adele, I silently chant as I crawl up over her and drag my cock through her juices. I thrust into her, and she arches up with a gasp.
I force myself to stop. “Too much?”
“No,” she pants, gripping my shoulders. When her nails score my skin, I surge inside her, trying to hold back from ramming home like her sweet cunt might save my life.
Maybe it will. I close my eyes and force my movements to be slow and steady.
I ignore the crumbling of walls all around me. Inside me. The changing of my very essence simply by blending with hers. I move inside her, and she rocks to meet my thrusts, a perfect dance. I brace my hands on the headboard above her, keeping my fangs far from her sweet moonlit skin. Every sound she makes drives me more mad, but I somehow manage to hang onto a thread of control. I watch her tension build, listen to the pitch of her cries raise. She is beauty and ecstasy. She is everything I’ve been missing. She is life itself.
She shrieks when she comes. Wraps those long legs around my back and holds me in. I fill her with my essence, and I think that alone is what keeps me from sinking my teeth into her perfect flesh and forever claiming her as mine. My wolf is mollified that I’ve marked her with my cum. Left my scent all over her, at least temporarily.
As soon as we both have finished, I drag myself off her to get control. In the bathroom, my wolf eyes look back at me from the mirror, a greedy green.
Claim her.
I shake my head at my reflection, dragging in slow breaths until my eyes change back to brown. Even then, I don’t dare return to her.
Adele
So much for not screwing the boss.
Rafe disappears to the bathroom after sex while I revel in the glorious aftermath. My body is well-sated. Last time wasn’t just a fluke. I can now confirm with all certainty that my chemistry with Rafe is off the charts good.
And now that I understand better what makes him tick–that his control issues and overprotectiveness stem from the trauma of his parent’s murder–I only have compassion for him. His bossiness is him trying to keep everyone he cares about safe. And I get the feeling that even though he’s already accepted me into the fold–one more of his flock to keep safe–he’s afraid to let me in.
He’s suffered too much loss to want to risk it all.
I climb out of the bed and check the drawers, finding one with a stack of neatly folded white t-shirts. I pull one over my head and go in search of Rafe.
I find him standing in his boxer briefs in the kitchen, holding two full glasses of water.
“Hey,” he says softly, extending one glass to me. I accept it and drink. “Are you hungry? Did you get to eat before we left?”
“Yes. Did you?”
“Not enough.” He casts a baleful glance at the refrigerator. “I wish to hell I’d brought your feast with us.”
I shrug. “I’m here.” I meant that I could cook more, but his eyes glint, and his expression grows hungry, as if the sex we just had wasn’t nearly enough for him.
“I’ve figured out all our issues,” I tell him.
He lifts his brows. “Oh yeah? What are they?”
“Your parents’ death makes you overprotective, and my parent’s lack of assistance makes me not want to accept help. We’re a recipe for conflict.”
He steps into my space, his hand coming to rest lightly on my hip. “Your parents didn’t help you?”
“It’s not that. They loved me. I had everything I needed growing up. But they didn’t support my dreams. They wanted me to be a doctor like them. They think what I’m doing is a step down. The only person who ever supported me was my mémère. I opened the Chocolatier with the inheritance she left me. I was working hard trying to prove they were wrong, but…”
Rafe’s brows slash down. “Oh you’ll get your shop back,” he says fiercely. “That thing with Bing–that wasn’t your fault. You know that, don’t you?”
“I’m the idiot who partnered with a guy with a drug habit.”
“Ah. Another reason not to accept help now, right?”
I offer a rueful smile. “That’s probably true.” The weight on my chest descends, though, thinking about what I need to get The Chocolatier back open. “Working for you is a help,” I tell him. “I didn’t realize Bing hadn’t been paying the rent, so I’m in arrears. The landlord won’t let me back in until I pay it off.”
Rafe doesn’t look surprised. “How much do you owe?”
“Ten thousand. So I figured if I could stick out a month of working for you, I could get back to it.” I wince a bit, thinking he will be offended, but there’s something indulgent about the way he’s looking at me.