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“Fuck.” He heaved his hips forward faster and faster, harder and harder, as she sucked on the brand. “Come, Quinley.”
The build-up of tension that had been bubbling inside her finally boiled over. A hot, spinetingling supernova wave of pleasure crashed into her and ripped through her body.
She unlocked her teeth from his skin as a raspy scream tore out of her throat, her inner muscles squeezing and rippling around his cock; whips of hot come bursting out of him.
The strength vanished from her body, rendering her limp. Floating in a sea of bliss, she was barely aware of him lazily gliding his dick forward and backward; his every breath fanning the fresh bite on her neck.
Claimed. She was claimed. And that she’d been able to claim Isaiah in return, that he’d wanted what someone else had once flung back in her face, settled something inside both her and her cat—possibly that part of them that had felt so lost and alone for years.
All that was missing now was an imprint bond.
Finally, he raised his head. “Stay,” he said, his face all soft and languid.
“Okay,” she murmured.
He withdrew his softening cock, edged off the bed, and then left the room. He returned moments later with a damp cloth and cleaned her up, ignoring her offer to take over. Once done, he threw the cloth in the laundry basket and arched a brow. “You like sleeping naked or not?”
“Not. There’s a long tee in my—”
“You like wearing tees for bed, you can wear one of mine.” He snatched one from his dresser and tossed it to her.
Isaiah watched as she sat up and slipped it on. He felt his lips twitch. The tee dwarfed her, but she looked fucking cute in it. There was something far too satisfying about knowing his scent was now all over her.
He unconsciously dropped his gaze to the bite on her neck. It was red but no longer bleeding. It would heal, but the imprint of it would remain. A thought that comforted him more than he’d expected.
His cat had a mixed reaction to the sight of the mark. He was angry that Isaiah had branded her, but he was unable to dismiss its significance. The feline really saw her now; registered every detail, acknowledged her as under its protection.
Well, it was a start.
After flicking back the covers and settling her into bed, Isaiah lay beside her. He could sense that she was exhausted—it had been a pivotal day for her, and the emotional weight of that would have tired her out. But he couldn’t let her drift off just yet.
Positioning himself on his side facing her, he gave her hip a little squeeze. “I want us to have one more talk, then you can sleep.”
She blinked hard and stared up at him, giving him her full attention just like that.
“You and me… if we want to build something, we need to be forthcoming—starting now.”
She nodded in agreement.
“This might be an arranged mating, but that makes it no less real. I don’t expect you to trust me so soon—that can’t be given, it has to be earned. But you can trust me. You can be sure that if you ever need me, I’m there. That if something’s wrong, I’ll do my best to fix it.”
Caution flickered in her eyes. She made him think of a wounded animal who was hesitant to invest her full trust in someone. Who wouldn’t be, when the person whose loyalty to you should have been absolute had let you down in every way?
“Your oldest sister has been your rock a long time,” he went on. “You’re used to turning to her, and I get that you won’t naturally stop doing that. But know I’m a person you can rely on above all others. You’re my priority.”
“As you’re mine,” she said, her voice low.
He felt his lips tip up. “You can come to me about anything, day or night. If something’s playing on your mind, run it by me. If you’re unhappy about something, tell me. If you’re sad or missing your family or feeling any regrets, say so. We can’t get past something if we don’t speak of it.”
“Communication is important,” she agreed. “Patience, too. We’ll be learning each other’s hot buttons, pet peeves, etc. on the fly. We’re both gonna need some room to mess up in the beginning or there’ll be unnecessary arguments.”
“And let me state here and now that I don’t consider you second best. It would be easy for both of us to worry that we’re not the other’s real choice. That isn’t true. I chose you. You chose me. That’s it now. It’s done.”
The finality in that statement soothed a jagged concern in Quinley that she hadn’t realized was there. But of course it was there—she should have expected it. They’d both been denied the opportunity to bond with their true mate, but their situations were different. She knew hers would never want her, whereas he would live with the knowledge that his might have wanted him if things were different.
“You never have to worry you’re playing second fiddle for me either,” she assured him. “For me, entering this mating was never about finding a replacement, it was about moving all the way forward. I guess it was easier for me than it has been for you.”
“Why would you think that?”
