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Of course, West had to fix that. Always an attentive lover, he eased my dress off of me and removed my bra before kicking off his shoes, then shucking his clothes off so that they joined mine somewhere on the floor. Then, laying me down in the bed, he held me close until we both fell asleep.
I kept telling myself ‘five more minutes’.
Five more minutes and I’ll put an end to this.
Five more minutes and I’ll explain to him that he has to leave.
Five more minutes and I’ll tell him that that never should’ve happened…
I must have fallen asleep in his arms at four because the sun’s streaming in through the window, it’s morning, and we’re still in bed together.
West is fast asleep. I’m on my side, curled into him. His body is turned toward me, his arm slung over my waist, tugging me into him. He’s breathing softly, face buried in my hair.
His dick is hard. He’s not inside of me anymore, but his entire length is cushioned between my thighs. His possessive grip on my waist isn’t our only connection, either. My knees are bent slightly, my ankles kicking out behind me, while West has his leg laying over them.
I don’t want to accuse him of holding me so tightly on purpose. It’s been three years since I slept with West, but I haven’t forgotten how he turns into a barnacle after he comes. As though afraid I’m going to slip out like a thief in the night, he’s always had this protective instinct. He’s never been the type of male to let go.
Looking back, that should’ve been a massive clue that, when I told him about Rafael the first time, he wouldn’t readily accept that we were over…
West would never force me to do anything I didn’t want to. What happened last night… it was so easy to forget that, during the next full moon, I might be in another male’s bed. Surrounded by his scent, without Bishop’s disapproval reminding me what I’m supposed to do, and the rest of the pack treating me like the Omega—just the Omega, neverHelene—it was so Luna damned easy to forget that I can’t have this male for my own.
So I took him and, in the moment, it was so… soright.
That was last night. This morning? The fact that a part of me doesn’t want it all to end is a sure sign that I screwed up big time.
Okay. Deep breath, Helene. There’s got to be a way to slip out of his hold without waking him up.
Lifting his hand up by one finger, I slowly ease it away from my hip. Once it’s settled on the sheet in front of me, I scoot backward a few inches at a time until his leg slips off of mine. West snuffles. I freeze, sure that he’s stirring. His eyes stay closed, and I swallow my sigh of relief.
The same thing happens when I pull away from him enough that his cock isn’t nestled between my thighs anymore. Missing my warmth, he reaches out for me in his sleep.
Here goes nothing.
I start to climb out of the bed. Turning away from him, I sit up, ready to place my bare feet on the floor to put some space between us.
Glancing down, I remember that I’m still naked.
If it was any other packmate, I wouldn’t have cared. In a shifter pack, where our clothing never survives a shift, nudity is the norm. I don’t often shift in front of others now, but as a pup, I did all the time. Long before the first time I ever mated West, we already knew what the other looked like in their skin.
All that changes when sexual attraction comes into play. There’s a difference between seeing a male shifter go hard because the breeze blew the wrong way or tits in general set him off and knowing that he’s looking at you, dying to stick his cock inside of you. When that happens, staying in your bare skin is basically saying:yes, please.
I don’t see my dress from last night anywhere. West removed it. I have no idea where exactly he put it. There are plenty of others in the closet, but I’ll have to walk over there to grab one.
The blanket, I decide. I’ll wrap myself in the blanket to cover up and—
West snags my hand before I can snatch the edge of the blanket. Intertwining his fingers with mine, I’m as good as trapped.
I glance over my shoulder at him.
He’s wide awake. His eyes are a gentle grey this morning. Hair mussed from both our mating and my pillow, he’s wearing a crooked smile—and nothing else.
In one practiced motion, he uses his hold on my hand to pull me toward him, guiding me to my back. West has done it so many times before that, like it’s part of my muscle memory, I let him.
Mistake number two. I fall right open again. Taking that as his welcome, West doesn’t hesitate to climb on top of me. His legs settle right into the cradle of my body. His arms bracket my head, pushing into the pillow beneath it as he peers down at me, pure pleasure turning his handsome features breathtaking as he smiles.
“Morning, baby.”
Baby.
