Even now, as I sit inches from her warm body, I want to sink my teeth into her. Leave my mark on that perfect porcelain skin so everyone who sees it knows it was me.
I close my eyes and let out a low groan.
Why now?I question the universe.Why is all of this happening now?
She’s been in my life for fucking fifteen years, and suddenlynowis when my wolf wants to fuck her like an animal? But it’s not just lust clouding my vision. It feels like every single part of me, on a cellular level, is being pulled toward her, and there is nothing I can do to change course.
Every pack member I’ve asked about it over the years has said the same thing about finding my mate: I’ll just know.
At the time, the notion sounded dumb as hell, like something I’d hear out of one of Raegan’s smutty romance novels. But now? I can’t help but think they were right. Just the thought of her not by my side sends a flash of red across my vision.
She’s staring at me guiltily, and I can see the questioning look on her face as she internally reprimands herself for pulling away from my touch. So I place my hand on the top of her adorable cat paw slipper and squeeze.
I’m about to tell her what I’m feeling—that what we’re both feeling is natural—but instead I blurt out something else entirely. “I want you to move in with me.”
Chapter Eleven
RAEGAN
Iwish I could say I wasn’t shocked by Jamie’s confession, but I am. He offers for me to move in with him every time my lease is up, but he’s never flat out asked me because it’s what he wants.
There are several reasons why I continue to turn him down: one being my pride and another being I love my apartment no matter how expensive it is. But now I’m wondering if something new should be added to the list.
Touches from Jamie no longer just comfort me. They send a shiver down my spine. Dismissing the occasional lustful thought has been easy while still having space from one another, but if I moved in with him, it would be near impossible to ignore the little moments between us that keep happening more and more.
I stare at him blankly for several seconds, then draw a breath and release it heavily. “Jamie–”
“Don’t,” he cuts me off. “I’ve already heard every one of your excuses, and none of them are good enough.” I try to interject, but he stops me. “Your lease with Mavis is up in a little over a week. Either you stay here, barely making it paycheck to paycheck and continuing to stress yourself out for no reason—”I open my mouth. “Or,” he overstates, “you come live with me, rent free, and save some money. Plus you’ll get plenty of one-on-one time with your best friend.”
That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
I cross my arms and keep my eyes trained on the floor in front of me.
“Come on,” he practically begs. “Besides your pride, what’s holding you back?”
I lift my head to give him a pointed look, as if to say ‘you know exactly what’s holding me back.’ It’s that pull toward one another that we’ve been feeling but are too afraid to talk about.
“Rae, what is it?”
My hand flutters to my neck. I snuck a peek at myself in the mirror this morning, too afraid to look for more than a second. Even so, I managed to catch the now purple bruise blooming at the base of my throat.
Instead of voicing my true concern, I ask, “What about Cleetus? We’re a package deal.” We both look to my bedroom door, slightly ajar from where he slipped inside moments ago.
As much as Jamie probably loathes the idea of my cat prancing around his condo and scratching the shit out of his furniture, he also knows how much of a comfort Cleetus is to me. He’s been my emotional support animal for the past seven years.
“I know you two can’t be separated. He’s your best friend.”
I chuckle. “You’remy best friend.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” he jokes. “Besides, he’s the one cuddling with you in bed every night.”
The comment strikes me right in my gut, and I feel those pesky butterflies making their move again. My eyes must be bulging from their sockets, because the look on his face makes me think he wishes he could take it back.
Neither one of us address the comment, instead we both laugh it off.
“If you’re sure you’re okay with it…but I also come with a lot of books. And kitchen decor.” I gesture to my lemon themed kitchen, complete with lemon hand towels and oven mitts, a giant lemon fruit bowl, lemon glasses and bowls, and a lemon timer. That’s not even half of it.
“Yes, Rae. I will gladly take your books and all your lemon shit.”
