She squirmed slightly, heat rising in her cheeks again. “It’s not exactly a nice nickname,” she grumbled, “you used to call me that…before.”
He sighed, any amusement fading fast at the memory of all that had transpired between them. “It wasn’t particularly clever then. I mean, I was hung up on your inability to shift. Calling you mutt seems rather contradictory to that.”
“Great,” she said, rolling her eyes, “you’re scoring yourself onhow cleveryour insults were.”
He stopped suddenly, and she bumped into him, the first few syllables of complaint dying on her lips as she peered into his face.
“About all that…” he said, fighting the urge to turn from her face, to hide from the raw, open hope written there. He was no coward. And it was time he faced this particular battle.
“Yes?” she breathed, tugging her lip between her teeth.
He swallowed, throat bobbing, “I…regret it. All of it. I could tell you that it was my father’s influence, that I was taught to root out weakness whenever I saw it, but…but it’s not true. I was an asshole. Plain and simple. When I finally realized what I actually felt, it seemed too late. I should never have slept with you. Should never have given you hope like that and then taken it away. I was scared. And I’m sorry.”
She blinked, mouth falling slightly open, eyes glimmering. Suddenly, she cleared her throat and looked down,eyes darting as if hoping the right words would appear on the cobblestones. “I can’t pretend that it didn’t…that I wasn’t…that you weren’t cruel. You were. All of you. But…” She looked up, hand finding his, squeezing tight. “Thank you. For saying it.”
He nodded stiffly, searching her face, memorizing the way her dark lashes brushed against her cheeks, the barest hint of freckles smattered across her nose. He didn’t know who moved first, her or him.
It didn’t matter.
Their lips collided, wild and frenzied. Before he knew it, her back had struck a wall, his hands bracing either side of her, trapping her beneath him as he claimed her mouth. She gave as good as she got, hands scrabbling in his shirt, nails scraping the fabric. Little sounds, desperate and mewling, fell from her throat.
And beneath it all, he could scent her arousal. Her desire. Her need for him.
It had happened like this before, all those years ago, in the kitchen of her parents’ cottage. He had kissed her, had taken her, and then—
The memory was like ice water poured over him.
Almost violently, he ripped himself away, staggering backwards. She watched him, eyes wide and glassy, one hand hovering over her lips, her chest rising and falling.
“Fuck,” he said, one hand running through his hair, “fuck, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“To kiss me?” she interrupted, her voice barely more than a whisper.
He managed a nod. “I said I wouldn’t…said that this—”
“I want you to kiss me, Dominic,” she said, stepping forward into the halo of a streetlamp, “and the rest.”
He blinked. She looked like some sort of angel, gold light shining through her hair, eyes guileless and trusting.
When he sucked in a breath, it was as if his wolf was calling for him to go to war.
“And the rest?” he asked, his voice dropping low, dangerous. They may have been here before, but that was years ago. He was a male, fully grown now, one with blood on his hands. He would not hide any part of himself from her. He needed her to see. To be certain.
Slowly, she looked him up and down, eyelashes fluttering slightly as she took in the muscles, his clenching fists, the dark heat in his eyes.
Then her gaze caught his, and she gave him an impossibly beautiful smile. “And the rest.”
This time, he knew it was him colliding into her, dragging her into his chest. She let him, falling into his arms, pressing her face upwards to receive him. With a snarl, he swept her off her feet, lips not leaving hers as he carried her towards her shop.
They were a tangle of teeth and passion and need by the time they got to the door. Layla barely had a chance to unlock it before he was kicking it open, storming inside, sweeping piles of books off a display table so he could sit her down.
She keened, legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him impossibly closer to her.
He growled, falling forward, just catching his weight by gripping the table on either side of her as he dragged his teeth down the side of her neck, relishing the moans and whimpers falling from her lips. Furiously, he ripped his shirt off, desperateto feel her hands on his skin. She was clinging to him, forced backwards beneath him, practically hanging from his neck as she threw her head back to accommodate his hot kisses.
He picked her up again, hand splayed across her ass, relishing the soft flesh yielding beneath his grip. Blindly, he stumbled towards the stairs, too caught up in her to bother looking where he was going.
Through some miracle, he managed to get them up the stairs and into her room, and with a savage grin, he threw her down on the bed, barely pausing to admire the sight of her swollen lips and flushed cheeks before climbing over her, grasping both her wrists on one hand and pinning them above her head.
