Page 101 of Rejected By the Winter Wolf

I scoff.

He grabs the hem of my sweatshirt—well, his—and drags it up and over my head. He drops it and moves on to my shirt. I’m not sure why I’m letting him do it—maybe just because I’m intrigued? Because there’s an insatiable ache between my legs that’s been there since he saved me?

He takes off my shirt. It joins the sweatshirt on the floor. He traces my Mark, and goosebumps rise on my arms. I fight the urge to cover myself. I’m not lean like a wolf shifter, or even like half the witches I know. And while I lost weight as Gage’s captive, all it’s done is make my skin sag. My breasts have always been big, my stomach soft.

I smell awful.

He steers me into the bathroom and turns on the water. It hisses out of the pipes, and within a minute, steam billows off the stream. He picks up the little shampoo and conditioner bottles supplied by the place and sets them on the edge of the tub.

“Are you going to watch me shower?”

Fuck, my voice is raspy. Like maybe I want him to watch me wash the filth off me.

“No.” He rubs his ear. “No, I’m going to check the perimeter and make sure no one tracked us here.”

He leaves me standing in the bathroom alone. Naked.

A little bit of hurt winds through me, but I force it away. I set a few towels within reach of the shower and step under the burning-hot water. I can’t remember the last time I took a decent shower. It feels like heaven sluicing down my body, and I groan.

I’m finally feeling warm again, too. On the inside. I think that’s Kian’s doing.

It takes me almost forty-five minutes to feel clean enough to emerge. Somehow, the hot water doesn’t run out on me. I dry myself carefully. I hardly recognize my body anymore. The trauma I endured has healed on my skin, but only time might heal my mind.

Jury’s out on that one.

I finger-comb my hair, wrap a towel around my body, and take a deep breath.

I can’t stall any longer.

The only light is a lamp on the bedside table. Kian sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his thighs, and he watches me when I exit. The pulse of magic inside me is so faint, it’s almost like I’m still wearing the cuffs. But I can close my eyes and dip into it and assure myself that I’m still okay.

Kian’s gaze is stuck somewhere between my breasts and my eyes, and I inch forward again. I need to be honest with him.

“I didn’t date anyone when I moved away from home,” I say quickly. “Because guys don’t see me. If you know what I mean.”

His brow lowers. “Banish that insecurity, little nightmare. I take pleasure in looking at you. And touching you. And talking to you, even when I want to sometimes strangle you. I’d like to show you how much I enjoy it.” His pupils are large, the blue almost totally obscured.

I don’t know why I find myself nodding yes, I want that, but he doesn’t hesitate to hold out his hand. I take it carefully, and he tugs me forward, until I’m standing between his legs.

He peels my towel away far too easily. It falls away from me, revealing my naked body. My heart is going to jump out of my chest at this rate. His hand finds my hip, steadying me just when I need it. He leans in and kisses my sternum, right between my breasts.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mumbles.

His scruff tickles my skin. My focus follows him as he moves lower between my breasts. My nipples are hard little pebbles. He cups one of my breasts, his thumb brushing over the sensitive nub. The burst of pleasure that washes over me is unexpected. I grab shoulders before I lose my balance.

He meets my gaze and smirks. He kisses my belly, over the stretch marks that I’ve always masked with a concealment charm, up the tip of my untouched breast.

He sucks my nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking at it. My back arches, and I try not to wriggle away from him. It feels so good. Wetness floods between my legs, and he inhales. Then groans. He pinches my other nipple.

I shift my hips, restless.

He adjusts, moving me so I’m sitting on his leg. My core is right against his thigh, and all it takes is a roll of my hips for the pleasure to smolder between my legs.

After a moment of indecision, in which he ignores what I’m doing and keeps giving my breasts the bulk of his attention, I grind on him. And fuck if it doesn’t feel good.

Filthy, unbelievable noises come out of my mouth. I can’t seem to form coherent words, but he’s reacting all the same. Until he suddenly leans away.

I whimper.