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I felt alive when I was with them. The conversations flowed, the jokes abounded. We respected each other, and cared about each other.
That made me feel alive.
And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, Rocco had made me feel alive, too. With the jokes, and the teasing. With the light conversations. With the way he casually tried to get to know me, and shared facts about himself too.
With the way he’d touched me.
With the way he’d kissed me.
We hadn’t known each other long, but… there was a genuine possibility that he made me feel more alive than anyone or anything else ever had.
I wasn’t going to go all-in with him blindly after a couple of days, but… maybe I could consider the possibility of being with him in a more-than-friend way.
Maybe we could learn to love each other.
Maybe we could be romantic mates, in time.
Our wolves ranuntil long after the sun went down, and then reluctantly stumbled back to the truck together. One awful shift later, I was crashing into Rocco’s arms, and he caught me without a damn problem.
My tits were smooshed against his chest as he looked down at me and I looked back up at him.
He flashed me a grin. “Shifting is hard on your body the first few times.”
“Apparently,” I managed to get out.
Rocco carefully let go of me, not releasing his grip on me completely until he was satisfied that I wasn’t going to fall on my face or ass.
Of course, the moment he stepped away from me to grab our clothes, I went down. Attempting to catch myself on a rock nearby only led to bleeding hands and a spinning head.
“Mads,” Rocco chided me, scooping the clothes up off the ground and striding back over to me. He dropped to his knees beside me, not seeming to notice the rocks that were slicing into his own knees and calves.
“I’m fine,” I protested. “Just… wobbly.”
“Arms out,” he instructed.
I blinked at him.
He reached out and grabbed one of my arms, which was wrapped around my naked chest, and tugged it out until it stuck straight in front of me.
Another tug, and the other one was out straight too.
Rocco hooked the straps of my bralette over my arms, and slid them up to my shoulders before quickly reaching around my back. His fingers struggled with the buckle, and he swore. “Why the hell are these things so difficult?”
I bit back a grin. “I don’t know, they’re pretty much torture devices. I’m glad my boobs aren’t big enough to force me to wear padded bras.”
Rocco scowled. “They’re perfect. And if you don’t want to wear a bra, then don’t.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Do you know what happens if I don’t wear a bra?”
He shrugged. “Free boobs?”
I snorted. “Pointy boobs. On display, for everyone to see.”
His fingers paused, and there was a moment of silence. “Never mind. You don’t have to wear a bra in our house, but outside, they’re still required.” He resumed struggling with the buckle.
“Last I checked, you’re not my boss,” I pointed out.
“Last I checked, neither of us wanted me to kill some random bastard for seeing your tits through your shirt,” Rocco countered.
