Page 13 of Her Second-Hand Mate

“I thought you’d expect me to make our dinner.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“I’d still like to, most nights.”

“You can, if you want to. Just know that it’s not something you have to do.”

“Thanks.”

Dinner was delicious. Whoever the pack chef was knew what they were doing, unlike Mary back home. I smiled at the memory of her bland, unseasoned food. But Mary was so nice and kind that everyone just ate the food without complaining.

What was my family doing right now? Were they missing me at meal times? Or was it as if I’d never been there?

“How was work?” I asked Dominic, trying to escape my own thoughts.

“It was good. Everything okay here?” he asked between bites.

“Yeah. Grace brought the groceries and we had tea. She’s really nice.”

“She is. I’m glad you like her.”

I smiled and that was it. After dinner, I cleaned the kitchen, and when I got upstairs, Dominic’s hair was wet from his shower. I took one as well, careful not to get my hair wet. I’d wash it tomorrow, so it would have time to air dry before bed.

I put on my robe and changed in the walk-in that now held my stuff. I stifled a smile at the thought of it now housing my plain homemade dresses after having held the glory of Cassie’s designer wardrobe. I put on my long cotton night gown and made my way to bed.

My mate was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a large towel in his hands. There was a tension in his body I was unfamiliar with. His blue eyes seemed almost black as I approached him.

“Hiding those thighs from me again?” he asked in a soft voice.

I felt so stupid. I wished I had a good response to that. Instead I just pointed at the towel, “What’s that for?”

“It’s for the mess we’re about to make.”

“Hm.” I hummed noncommittally.

A jealous flame licked the inside of my ribs. I wanted to rip someone’s hair out. My face must have shown the shift in my mood because Dominic got up and pulled me into a hug. He rubbed his face all over my neck and shoulders, and he nuzzled my mark before biting into it, marking me again for some reason. I gasped as I felt the now-familiar delicious burn.

“You’re my mate, Penelope.”

I nodded.

“Say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m your mate,” I heard myself say.

My hands were clutching Dominic’s white T-shirt.

“Only mine.”

“Only yours.”

He gently pulled the nightgown over my head and led me to the bed. My entire body felt hot and I kept my eyes closed tightly, because it was all too overwhelming, all my other senses were working overtime.

I could smell all of the layers that made Dominic who he was – the wild thyme of his wolf, the slight sheen of perspiration that now coated his body, the new scent of what had to be his arousal, all mixed with the soap from the shower he took earlier and the minty toothpaste he'd used.

My fingers traveled and cataloged as well – firm, rounded shoulders; soft, wavy hair; long muscles on his back that trembled and twitched under my touch; a flexing, thrusting behind that I’d grabbed with more courage than I thought I had in me; coarse hair on his chest and thighs that produced the most amazing friction on my own chest and legs as they rubbed against him; the silky sheets I was gripping and pulling on.

His tongue touched every inch of my body; somehow, it even managed to reach inside me with its wet heat, and that made a spot in my lower abdomen feel like someone was tickling me; suddenly, I was suspended in the moment right before a laugh or a sneeze.

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