Suddenly, not one of their concerns mattered. The only thing that did was rubbing wherever her hands were touching, over andover. And then trying to get him to rub her right back, until it made him groan desperately.
“We shouldn’t,” he said.
But he did it anyway.
He slid his hands all over her, from her shoulders to her waist. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, all the way down to her ass. Like he had in the wardrobe—only more fervently this time. As if each instance of them touching pushed things a little further, and so now he couldn’t be satisfied with just grabbing. He needed to grope, greedily, in a way that left her in no doubt about what he was thinking.
He loves what he’s feeling, her mind informed her, firmly.
And it kind of demolished all the Caution Danger Here signs she had up.
Suddenly, she found herself pushing into those big hands, into that hungry touch. And of course the second she did he seemed to go rigid. Every muscle went so taut, they almost quivered with it. Like someone had plucked some weird string inside him. Then a groan broke out of him, and he almost sank into her. He rolled his whole body against hers, all slow and deliciously familiar. Like someone starting to rut, she thought.
And couldn’t help rutting back.
She urged herself into the rock of his hips, and pushed her chest into his, and rubbed and rubbed until that was all they were doing. Right there, in the pantry. Both of them barely sensible of anything, except how good it felt.
And of what she wanted to do next.
Fuck me, I want him to fuck me,she thought mindlessly. Then didn’t think twice about shoving her jeans down. Or about bending over the flour bags piled behind them, so he could just do it. Oh god, she wanted him to do it. “I want you inside me,” she gasped, so certain he was going to that she could almost feel it. His hands on her hips, that big cock pressing against her. Working in, until she did something unhinged, like beg him for more.
So it was a shock, when he stopped.
And went very still and silent, for what felt like an age. She almostlooked back at him, to see what was going on. But he silenced those words before they could come, with his own.
“Actually,” he said. “I just remembered, I left the gas on.”
And then he fled, before she could say what they both knew:
His house didn’t have any gas to turn off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
She wasn’t bothered by what had happened. In fact, if she was being honest, him panicking made far more sense than him getting excited over her ever had. Clearly, werewolf hormones and weird mating bonds could only give him a certain level of lust for her. They could make him want to touch, to squeeze, to test things out.
But when it came to the crunch, when it came to actually doing more than rubbing against each other or talking dirty, he hit a wall he just couldn’t get over. Because, sure, he hadn’t meant to insult her body back in high school. He didn’t like the idea of hurting her. And sometimes it had seemed as if he wanted more to take place between them.
But that didn’t add up to delight at the sight of her naked body.
And that was fine, it was okay. She didn’t need that from him. The only thing she needed was knowing he respected her, and never wanted to hurt her, and liked her as a person. All of which were there, regardless of anything else. She could see they were, the second he returned, the next day. He came into the kitchen, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, expression caught somewhere between pained and embarrassed.
And it was obvious he wanted to explain.
Even though she prayed he wouldn’t.
Just say nothing, she thought at him. But no such luck.
“Cassie, about yesterday,” he started to say.
So she held up a hand, before he could go any further.
“It’s okay. I get it,” she said. “When the time came, you just didn’t want to. Which is perfectly understandable, all things considered. Itdoesn’t hurt my feelings. We’re just going to have to be more practical. Like maybe do it in a really dark room, with tons of clothes on.”
She was proud of how businesslike she sounded.
Because that was how it had to be. Almost like a transaction.
Yeah, a transaction was what he needed. Even if he just looked more freaked out by the idea than he had about actually fucking her. His eyebrows practically sailed over his forehead. He went to speak, and the words seemed to gag him. Then finally, finally he managed to squeeze something out. “What the heck do you mean, Cass? That sounds evenworse.”
