Clark Wilson is my bondmate.It was still hard to wrap her head around that. Maybe it always would be. She still had no idea what had happened orwhyher magic had taken her fate into its own hands. “I know you don’t mind, but it’s important to me that you know I really, really didn’t mean to bond with you without asking, Clark.”
“Seems fair to me.”
“Fair?”
“Yeah.” She turned her gaze back to his face and found him smiling that criminally charming smile. “I did kiss you without asking, remember? And it’s not like the kohl gives anyone a choice, either. Fair’s fair.”
Nelly huffed. “That’s not evencloseto the same level of—”
“Nah, but here’s the thing…” The playfulness in Clark’s expression melted into something darker, something that made the ache between her legs that much harder to ignore. “If you hadn’t, I would have asked you to anyway. I’ve been yours since the moment I saw you in those cute little shorts all those months ago. And if I’d taken the kohl some other time, some other place, well… I would have thrown you over my shoulder, run away with you, locked you up in my nest, and fucked you until you agreed to bond with me inyourway.”
Clark’s lashes lowered. His voice, already husky and rich with the famous orcish timbre, deepened when he murmured, “Sugar, the way I see it, you just saved us a lot of time. Your magic knew we were meant to be. Now your head’s just gotta catch up. Your body already has.”
Nelly did squirm then. Her thighs slid against one another restlessly, forcing her to acknowledge the way the gusset of her sleep shorts had gotten embarrassingly damp.
“How do you know I…” She couldn’t bear to finish the sentence. Not that she needed to. The predatory gleam in Clark’s heavy-lidded gaze told her he knew.
“I’m your mate.” He was devastatingly direct. “Your pleasure is mine. Knowing when you need relief is my fucking responsibility.” A deep rumble emanated from his bare chest before he finished, “And sugar? Iknowyou need relief.”
She did. She really,reallydid.
Whether that was the wine talking or the bond or Clark’s outrageous sex appeal or her months-long drought or, more likely, a combination of all of those things, she knew that she wanted him.
But that didn’t mean she was ready to have him. Not like that. Because as much as he’d won her over, Nelly dreaded that moment most.
Swallowing thickly, she whispered, “I don’t think I’m ready to touch you yet.”
She was living in a lush fantasy. Clark had dashed all over her preconceived notions to the ground and turned out to be a sweet, caring man as attracted to her as she was to him. It was a dream having him in her bed, looking at her like he wanted to eat her up in tiny bites.
But touching him meant the end of that dream. It always did.
She wasn’t ready for that golden haze to fade, nor what it would mean for them when it did. Unlike her other failed relationships, Nelly couldn’t walk away from this one when she discovered Clark had talked badly about her behind her back, or intended on sleeping with other people, or was actually a horrible person in his private life.
They were both stuck.Forever.Was it such a crime that she wanted to live in the dream just a bit longer?
Her mind said one thing, but her body said another.
To his credit, Clark didn’t bat an eye at her hesitation. If anything, his smile widened in a slow, sensual way that made her mind go all syrupy.
“Sugar,” he purred, “you’ll touch me when you’re ready. Until then, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t insult your mate by insinuating I need my hands to make you come.”
The way Clark’s eyes took on a satisfied gleam told her the noise that had escaped her throat despite her best efforts was, in fact, a moan.
“Do you want that? If you say no, I won’t push you.” He rubbed his cheek against her pillow as his fingers danced restlessly over the blankets between them. She got the sense that he was doing that instead of reaching for her, which filled her with a contradictory mishmash of longing, relief, and sexual frustration.
“Yes,” she found herself whispering. Did she want Clark Wilson to make her come? What sane person would sayno?
Pleasure suffused his expression. “Sweet as sugar and so, so good to me.” Clark levered himself up onto his elbow again. Giving her body a hungry, sweeping look, he said, “Come out from behind those blankets. I want to see all that pretty skin I’ve been dreaming about.”
It took her a moment to push back against the nerves that threatened to stop her. Touching others, being naked — neither of those things had ever worked out well for her in the past. Knowing what other people said about her body behind her back, their negative reactions to her invasive ability, and various other experiences had left her deeply uncomfortable in her own skin.
She was not a sexy femme fatale. She wasn’t even a comfortable one. She was just Nelly, who’d been hurt too many times in the past and knew exactly how inexperienced she was compared to someone like Clark, who had probably never felt an insecurity a day in his life.
But she also wasn’t a weenie. Despite everything, Nelly was proud of herself for how often she’d put herself out there. Hadn’t she worked up the courage to live on her own? Hadn’t she picked herself up off the ground after her breakup with Lance? Hadn’t she gone out into the blizzard and rescued Clark all by herself?
She’d done those things. She could do this, too.
So Nelly held her breath as she slowly untangled herself from her blankets, her eyes averted so she wouldn’t lose her nerve.
