Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
My heart thuds. Wilde is asking me something instead of throwing his weight around.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” I find myself saying with defiance before I’ve even had a chance to think it through. Before my wiser self would’ve thrown on the brakes.
I’m not ready to sleep next to Wilde Woodward. Especially not after what happened last night.
Except that must be a lie because the idea of sleeping–or even just lying–beside him again sends tremors of excitement zipping up my spine and down my limbs.
Wilde releases me and tips me gently onto my feet, then gets up and heads to the bathroom. I use the time alone to turn off the light and dive under the covers. The moment I do, my body flushes with fever. My legs kick and stretch beneath the blankets. I’m dying of heat. Literally. Dying.
I throw back the covers to get some fresh air on my skin. I want to take the pajamas off, but that’s obviously the wrong message to send to Wilde.
Or was that message already sent the moment I agreed to get in this bed with him?
Why did I do that? Do I want a repeat of last night?
Oh, who am I kidding? I definitely do. I might have a touch of stepbrother kink here. The forbidden, unattainable alpha-hole doing dirty things to me in my own bed.
Wilde comes back to the bedroom and strips down to his boxer shorts. I can see him in the darkness–I think my night vision is improving–and his body is perfection.
There’s also something completely different about him right now. The cockiness is absent. He’s just…Wilde.
A guy climbing in bed with me.
Oh, fates. He’s climbing in bed with me!
I tug the blanket back up to my chin at the same time Wilde picks up the other end to climb in. His leg brushes against mine.
“Fuck, you’re burning up.” He throws the blankets down to our feet. “It’s the transition.” He glances toward the window. “And the moon is waxing.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense. I thought I was having empathetic reactions to my mom’s pregnancy.”
Wilde snorts. “Nope. The heat is part of it. And the hunger. And the horniness.” Suddenly he’s above me, pinning my wrists down the way he did last night. “Are you going to show me that wolf again, jellybean?”
I don’t fight him this time. Instead, my knees bend up like I’m making a cradle for him.
He lowers them, obligingly, giving me one slow roll of his hips before lifting away again. “Hmm. Looks like you’re not scared of me anymore. That could be a problem.”
“Problem for whom?”
He holds my gaze as he slowly and deliberately shifts one of his hands from my wrist to wrap around my throat. “Where is she?” he murmurs just before he starts to squeeze.
He’s right, though.
I’m not scared. I don’t completely know what Wilde’s about, but I know more than I did. I know he finds me desirable. And maybe his hate for me has been mitigated by the fact that he’s seen a wolf inside me. That I might not be as defective as people believe.
And while it’s a relief to not face the full blast of his resentment now, I hate the fact that his approbation is conditional. He doesn’t care about me–the real me. The me I am now. He’s only interested in the she-wolf he believes I can be.
He cuts my breath off, watching me intently. I hold his gaze with defiance. I refuse to play this game. He’s not going to scare me into fighting him.
My resolve lasts until my head gets thick and darkness closes in. Then I can’t help it anymore. I start to thrash beneath Wilde, my feet hooking onto his hips to push him away.
“There she is,” Wilde whispers. He releases his hold on my throat, and I gasp in my breath.
I drag in several long inhales, and the moment I can speak, I yell, “Fuck you, Wilde!”
He chuckles. “With pleasure, Rayne-bow.”
I kick him again, as hard as I can, the heel of my foot landing against his hard abs. “It’s not funny.” Tears form in my eyes and spill past my lashes.
He catches my ankle and holds it. “Shh.” He strokes up my calf. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I went too far.” He continues stroking his large hand up and down my calf, soothing me. “You’re okay, baby.”
I’m somewhat shocked by his apology. Even more by his use of the term baby.
“You’re okay.” He murmurs it again. He shifts the hand gripping my ankle to massage the sole of my foot.
“That was a nice kick, Rayne-bow.” It sounds like true admiration. “You had some power behind it.” He nods knowingly. “Shifter power.”
“Fuck you,” I grumble again. I refuse to be admired for anything shifter-related.
He uses both his thumbs to rub my foot now, and I start to melt despite my anger. “Are you into feet, Rayne?”