And the thought of sleeping alone, of putting that distance between us after everything we've shared…
I don't want to do that.
"Actually," I say in a quieter voice than intended, "would you... would you mind sleeping with me? It's just kind of chilly, and..."
God, what a lame excuse. The truth is simpler—I don't want to be alone. Specifically, I want to be with Wraith. I want the comfort of his presence, the security of his strong arms around me. I want to fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the way I did when the suppressant shot hit me so hard.
Wraith stares at me, those blue eyes widening slightly in surprise before doubt bleeds in, as if he thinks I've lost my mind. For a moment, I think he's going to refuse, to insist on keeping that careful distance between us. Then, slowly, he nods.
Moving toward the bed, my legs feel suddenly unsteady. The suppressant is still working its way through my system, making me lightheaded and slightly dizzy. Or maybe that's just the effect Wraith has on me, the way my pulse quickens whenever he's near.
He'd probably think it's because I'm afraid.
But that's not it at all.
I slip under the covers, the sheets cool against my skin. Wraith hesitates at the edge of the bed, his massive frame looming over me. His hands move in the dim light, pointing to me, then fingerspelling.
You S-U-R-E?
"I'm sure," I say softly, patting the space beside me. "Please."
He sits on the edge of the bed carefully, as if afraid he might break it if he moves too quickly. The mattress dips beneathhim as he slowly stretches out beside me, keeping a respectful distance between our bodies.
Turning onto my side, I face him. In the soft light from the TV, his blue eyes seem to glow, watching me with that intense focus that makes my skin tingle.
I shift a little closer.
His eyes widen slightly. For a moment, he doesn't move, and I wonder if I've pushed too far, asked for too much. Then, with aching slowness, he cautiously lifts his arm, creating a space for me to move into.
I don't hesitate. I slide closer, fitting myself against his side, my head coming to rest on his broad chest. His arm settles around me, heavy and warm, holding me with a gentleness that belies his tremendous strength.
His heart thunders beneath my ear, a rapid, powerful rhythm that tells me more than words ever could about what this means to him. About how much this simple act of trust and intimacy affects him.
"This is nice," I whisper, letting my eyes drift closed. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into mine, the comforting weight of his arm around me…
I could get used to this.
Scent match or not.
A soft rumble vibrates through his chest, an agreement that doesn't need words.
We lie like that for a while, the movie playing forgotten in the background. Wraith's heartbeat gradually slows to a steadierrhythm, his breathing deepening. I can feel him relaxing by degrees, allowing himself to enjoy this closeness, this connection.
My own body responds in kind, the lingering effects of the suppressant shot making me hyperaware of every point of contact between us. The heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. The weight of his arm around my shoulders. The way his woodsy scent fills my lungs with each breath.
It would be so easy to fall asleep like this, cradled in his warmth and strength. But there's something else building inside me, a restless energy that makes it impossible to fully relax. A need the suppressant can't quite suppress.
My hand rests on his chest, fingers splaying, feeling the solid wall of muscle beneath my palm and the fabric of his shirt. His breath hitches at the contact, but he doesn't pull away.
Emboldened, I let my fingers trail downward, tracing the ridges of his abs through his shirt. His muscles tense beneath my touch, another slight tremor running through him.
I pause, suddenly uncertain. "Is this okay?" I whisper, tilting my head to look up at him.
His eyes meet mine, darkening. He nods, a single, jerky movement that speaks of restraint, of careful control.
My hand continues its exploration, moving down the flat plane of his stomach, feeling the way his muscles jump and twitch beneath my touch. There's something addictive about the power of it—the knowledge that I, small and vulnerable as I am, can affect this massive, powerful alpha with nothing more than the brush of my fingertips.
His arm tightens around me, drawing me closer against his side. I can feel the heat of him now, radiating through his clothes, warming my skin wherever we touch. His scent intensifies, taking on a darker, muskier note that makes my head spin.
