Page 41 of Hungry Like the Wolf

“I—I—I—” she stammered, unable to articulate the mortifying question into words.

But then his hands found her cleft. She clamped her thighs tightly around his invading hand.

Rafe chuckled. “This? Are ye asking about this?”

Briar tried to wriggle away from him, her embarrassment burning like a wildfire in her breast, her cheeks red from the flames.

“That,” he said, leaning over her, his breath against her lips, so close that she couldn’t help but open her eyes, so familiar to her in such a strange face. “That is yer body getting ready for me.”

Robbie shot to his feet. “I left the oven on,” he nearly shouted.

Thank god, she thought, pulling the quilt over her face and screaming quietly into it.

She didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

But he was so earnest, so helpful, so Robbie. How could she tell him to stop reading to her?

The bathroom door closed and she threw the coverlet off, listening. She heard a gentle thud that sounded like someone leaning against a door, the door knocking against the frame. She heard the swoosh of nylon. Panting.

Holy hell.

The cabin was silent except for Robbie’s quiet gasping on the other side of the bathroom door as the smell of funnel cake grew so strong that she could taste it. Before she could stop herself, she sucked in a deep breath, the warm sugar of Robbie’s arousal filling her lungs, making her cells vibrate with potential energy. Again and again, she breathed. It felt wrong, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help but taste the feast laid before her.

She wouldn’t allow herself to take enough to save her, not for long anyway, and certainly not enough to make her in any way hale and healthy again, but enough that for a moment, just for a moment, she was able to forget about how hollow she felt, how underfed she was, and allowed herself just a taste.

He groaned softly, another thud following, and she imagined his head falling back against the pine door. She imagined his shorts around his ankles, his hands covered in his own mess, his breath heaving in and out like a forge bellows.

Frustrated tears streamed from her eyes as she turned onto her side, pulled the quilt up to her nose, and stared at the wall.

A few moments later, the faucet ran, followed by the unmistakable sound of hands being washed. The door opened. Robbie’s bare feet padded across the hall and into the room.

“Doc?” he said hoarsely, and even though her back was to him, she squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to have fallen asleep.

The pillowcase beneath her was damp from her tears already, a foolish waste of energy that she couldn’t help.

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” he said and her heart broke.

CHAPTER 19

“Is there a doctor nearby?”

JJ looked at him. They were jogging side by side on one of the wider trails, as they had been doing twice daily since Robbie and Nadja had arrived at the commune.

“I told you, you’ll feel like a million bucks once you shift.”

Robbie stopped, lacing his fingers behind his head, arms spread wide, chest rising and falling with his breath.

“I’m not the one who needs one.”

JJ kicked a small branch that had fallen near the trail, pushing it further from the path.

“Nadja?”

“It’s not good, man. All she does is sleep. I haven’t seen her out of that bed in three days. Maybe it’s a flu or something. She says she’s fine. She says that a doctor won’t be able to help her, but that’s got to be bullshit, JJ.”

Robbie’s voice grew louder and louder with each word until he was nearly shouting at the end. Overhead, the ravens cawed their disapproval.

“I can’t—” He stopped short. What could he say? That it physically hurt him to see her like that, to be unable to help, to be refused at every chance. She was so many things, but okay—no matter how many times she insisted it—was not one of them.