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His lips curved up in a small smile. “Alright, deal.”
Heavy relief washed through me. “If any of your friends try to push us into more serious territory, we have to shut them down, though,” I warned.
“That’s not a problem.” He pulled me into his arms and then into the tub.
Though I was already wondering what I might have gotten myself into, his arms were warm and the warm water felt like heaven on my skin. I breathed in and out slowly, my body feeling so much better than it had in such a long time.
“The sex was incredible, but I am so glad the climax is over,” I whispered to Zed.
His chuckle made me smile, just a tiny bit, “Me too.” His hands stroked my back. I could already feel him getting hard against my lower belly though, and that had me fighting a bigger smile.
“Already horny?” I teased.
“Sorry. This is all new for me,” he admitted, a little sheepish. “Sometimes I wish that we were able to sleep around a bit before meeting our mates, just so we wouldn’t be so awkward.”
“Don’t wish that. There hasn’t been anything awkward about it; you were perfect. And I like knowing that when you’re turned on, I’m not competing with any memories of other women you’ve been with.”
He growled. “Am I competing with memories of other men?”
“Maybe for the first minute. Then, you were so good that now I don’t even remember the others.”
“Good.” His grip on me was still tighter than it had been, though. I supposed I was seeing the possessiveness I’d been promised, and I didn’t hate it at all. “How many were there?”
“Let’s not do this.”
“June,” he warned. “If I meet someone you’ve been with, I want to know.”
“I don’t even remember most of their names,” I admitted. “There weren’t that many, and none of them were around here. I told you, I have a hard time trusting men. There was one back in Jackson, one in Paris, one in Thailand, one in Melbourne, and one in Maine.”
“Five?”
“Yes.”
“How many times did you fuck each of them, though?”
“Zed,” I complained.
“It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me. I’m a possessive jackass, I know. It’s hard not to care about that, though.”
I didn’t have a hard time believing that, at all.
So I sighed. “The only one I did more than once was the Jackson one. We sort of dated, just for a few weeks. Then he did something to prove he was as much of an asshole as I expected him to be, I told him I never wanted to see him again, and I never did. We probably had sex eight or nine times during those weeks, so you and I already beat that number.”
“Do we count in orgasms?” Zed asked, his voice still low and gravelly.
I made a face. “If we count in orgasms, I was only with that guy two or three times.”
Zed growled. “Bastard.”
“Not all men have the werewolf-climax working in their advantage,” I pointed out.
“No, but all men should have the patience to make sure that their companion is enjoying it just as much as they are,” he growled back.
“Not to be a bitch—I mean this absolutely respectfully—but you don’t even know whether or not you can get me off without the climax’s help,” I pointed out. “Neither of us knows whether or not the sex will be worse now.”
“There’s an easy way to find out.” He rolled me over in his arms, and slid his hand between my thighs. My eyes widened and my mouth dried as I watched him slowly run his finger over my clit.
I was exhausted, and well-sexed, and…
