So, how could he make this work? He didn’t want to leave the club, nor did he want her to leave the pack. That left them with finding a way to remain fuckbuddies without letting it go beyond.
She stirred when the sun fully rose, a small sound escaping her, and he went still, giving her the moment of waking without the weight of his attention.
He felt her register where she was, and sensed her taking inventory of what hurt. Probably most everything, after yesterday’s scene.
Under normal circumstances, his dick would be back inside her by now — helovedfucking all that soreness and pain, making use of his hard work from a scene all over again.
But they had too much to talk about before any more emotions were tossed into the mix.
Which meant the sooner she shifted, the better. What needed to be said felt like a weight between them. It couldn’t be rushed, but delaying it wasn’t a good idea, either.
“I know you’re hurting,” he told her. “Do you want me to feed your wolf, or would you rather do breakfast together as humans?”
Without answering, she rolled a little away from him — and then the shimmer and magic of thechangeburst into the room. A second later, amber eyes surrounded by thick fur blinked at him, and he scratched behind her ears without thinking about it.
She leaned into his hand with a soft, rumbling sound low in her chest, and he smiled and kept rubbing and scratching.
After maybe a minute, the wolf jumped off the bed, and mid-leap, the shimmer turned into a naked human woman standing beside his bed.
No more ponytail on top of her head. No more bruises or welts.
Every stripe, every rope mark, every bruise the Delrin had delivered deep into her muscles —gone. As if it hadn’t happened.
But it had, and they both knew it, and would have to talk about it.
Fuck.
“Morning,” she said, completely comfortable in her now-healed skin.
“Morning.” He got up before his dick went hard. “I know you’re starving. I can make most any breakfast food you want, but I’m thinking bacon and eggs, gravy and biscuits. Maybe some fried potatoes?”
“Sounds good.”
He was halfway down the stairs before he registered that he’d moved too fast. It was fine since he didn’t have to hide the fact he’s a wolf, but moving wolf-fast to make breakfast wasn’t normal.
He started the coffee first, and was pulling the ingredients for the biscuits out when she stepped into the kitchen wearing black leggings with a charcoal tee.
“I’ll cook the bacon,” she said, eyeing his naked cock. “Unless you’re a closet masochist?”
He grinned. “I have an apron, but you’re more than welcome to do the bacon.”
The two worked together comfortably. She made the gravy from the bacon grease, he scrambled the eggs when the biscuits were almost ready to come out of the oven. And they both stirred the potatoes as needed.
And damn, if that fucking dream didn’t keep layering itself over the morning. It couldn’t happen, so he didn’t know why it kept playing. Was his wolf doing it? Probably. The hardheaded fucker was determined they were keeping her.
Knife threw some steaks on the indoor grill, and they were ready to come off when she finished the gravy.
When they finally sat down to their small feast, he wasn’t sure how to get started.
She looked at him from across the table, took a sip of coffee, and said, “We should talk.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I intended for yesterday to be intense, but…”
“Right. Physical intensity was expected, but…” She blew out a breath. “I was blindsided by some of the emotional intensity.”
- - -?- --
Tuesday had done the math while she cried in his arms.
