Page 63 of Bewitching the Wolf

“We—my wolf and I—taught them a lesson they won’t forget in a hurry.”

I gape at him. He smiles ruefully. “It needed to happen.”

“Hell, you are crazy!”

“Right now, yeah. Probably.” His voice drops an octave. “Crazy about someone.”

My ears twitch, and all my senses light up. But I pretend not to hear, because this is a complete turnaround from the events of earlier, and I don’t know how to handle it.

“I know it was probably stupid,” he adds, “but it calmed my wolf, helped us to bond.”

“I’m so happy for you both.” I know I sound peeved. But I was here waiting for him and going out of my mind with worry. I change the subject. “Okay,” I clip out, “you’re all tidied up. It’s time for your night-time potion.”

“I don’t need it. I haven’t had a single urge to vape tonight.” He looks down at his hands, resting on his thighs. They’re not fidgeting, not even a smidge.

“Well, you can have it anyway…” I huff. “I’ll disguise it in a hot chocolate or something.”

I put the medicine bag back in my room, then busy myself warming milk on the stove. All the time, I can feel Jax’s eyes on me. I hear his chair scrape on the flagstones, then the soft pad of his feet. I whisk the chocolate into the warm milk, then add the powdered elixir. I know he’s getting closer, and I’m so jumpy my tail literally unhooks itself from my belt and starts swishing from side to side. I grab it and try to stuff it back into my belt, but it refuses to comply.

“Tippy.” His voice is husky, soft, mere inches from my ear.

I grab the mug and turn to hand it to him.

He takes it. Puts it on the bench next to us.

I stare at him, chewing at my bottom lip. “Aren’t you going to drink that?”

“Like I said, I don’t need it.”

I tsssk loudly, and press my butt into the kitchen bench to stop my tail from reaching out and stroking all over his chest.

And then he turns me toward him and takes my hand. He turns it over in his palm, and we watch my claws flex and unflex as my arousal pulses to the same rhythm.

He lets out a low growl of pleasure, and it goes straight to my clit.

And then he says, low and husky, “About what happened between us… It wasn’t that I didn’t want you. Gods, Tippy, I’ve wanted you for so fucking long…” When his voice cracks with emotion, that’s it, I’m done for. I’m like a fish caught on his line, about to be reeled in. And worse, as I stand sandwiched between him and the bench, my tail, which clearly goes nuts when I’m aroused, flicks around his hip and curls tight around his butt.

His pupils dilate—yep, he’s felt it. But he keeps talking. “I couldn’t trust my wolf. But we’ve sorted our differences now.”

“You have?” I gulp, trying to tug my tail away. But it remains steadfastly wrapped around his butt. The urge to stroke his ass is unbearable.

His eyes darken a shade more. “Yeah. We worked out we were both in love with the same girl.”

I stand frozen, lips dry, heart pounding. My tail, damn the thing, winds tighter, binding him closer. I feel his cock, a hard ridge against my belly.

His face is now distinctly wolfen, beautiful despite his broken and bruised skin.

“It’s always been you, Tippy,” he says softly. “Long before I was wolfen, it was you. Even when I was programmed and numb inside, you reached inside me and pulled my soul out of the abyss. You saw me, Tippy, imprisoned, in hell… and you saved me,” he whispers. “I want you… need you Tippy. Not your potions, not your green smoothies. Just—you…”

He hooks a tendril of my red hair in his fingers. “Are you just going to stare at me—or are you going to tell me you feel the same?”

“Oh, Jax. Yesssss.” It’s almost a sob that falls from my lips. “From the moment I first saw you.”

And then I close my eyes, lift my face, and wait.

Our noses rub. And then we kiss for the second time today.

This time, it’s gentle, the way his mouth explores mine. I feel the scratch of his beard, the softness of his lips molding to mine. It’s like a long drink, quenching a thirst so deep, as though his kiss is reaching into my very soul, my deepest corners, exposing all the years of unspoken longing.