Page 61 of Mated Exile

Roarke tilts his head, his hand cupping my breast, running a thumb across my nipple until I shiver. "You think I'm smoking hot?"

Smiling, I playfully smack his shoulder. "You know you're hot."

"I still want to hear you say it," he says, eyes softening up at me. "It's something I've dreamed of you saying aloud ever since I was a pimply, skinny twelve-year-old."

Licking my lips, I tighten my legs around his bare chest and reach up to curve my palm around his cheek. "You're absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, a one-of-a-kind dreamboat and a stunner. If it weren't for this curse, I have no doubt that you'd be mated by now, and I bet the females would've killed each other to get you."

He smiles softly, his free hand dropping to my lower back and playing with the waistband of my pants. "I don't think it would've gone that way."

"Oh?"

"I would've waited for you to return," he says, leaning forward to nuzzle my neck. I inhale sharply, feeling as well as hearing the gentle devotion in his words, knowing how meaningful it is. "You were the one I wanted, Delilah. Even when I tried to want someone else, it didn't work. The moment I saw you were back in town, I despaired—because you were the only one I cared about, and the only one I couldn't have."

As he brings his fingers to my pants and undoes the drawstring, I feel tension curling in my belly, tight and full. Thankfully I have a moment to pull back from him so I can take my pants off, swinging my legs off the bed and kicking them away. Roarke's hands fall to my hips, hesitant and questioning, and I inhale at the feelings I see in his eyes. I have to look up towards the ceiling as I strip them off, heart pounding in my chest, this moment suddenly all-too-real.

I said that I would date the guys, get to know them, and try to decide who I cared for. With Finn it was easy, because everything is easy with Finn. Lance was harder to get close to, but only because I hadn't told him what I wanted—the second I did, things were easy. Everything with Kieran was complicated, so I thought Roarke would be simple in comparison.

But as I put my hand on his shoulder, watching his eyes roam my naked body and take me in, I feel how momentous this is to him. He didn't hold himself back because he didn't want me. He did it because he wanted metoo much.

Now, if things don't work out between us, it won't be my heart on the line.

It'll be his, and I realize with a sharp pang that I hold him in my hand, a quiet and loyal man, full of longing and true vulnerability.

So as he leans back on the bed and I climb onto him, nothing between us, his pants forgotten somewhere on the floor, I feel the urge to lighten this moment somehow.

"You know, Roarke, youarea natural-born alpha," I tell him, bracing my hands on his shoulders as he draws circles around my nipples, his summer-blue eyes glancing up at me curiously. "Which means that if things don't work out with this curse, and Glass Pack can't be saved, we have options. Like making our very ownBellPack."

I grin at him, enjoying the way I've turned his name into a pack name.

He licks his lips, cocks his head, and looks up at me without any humor in his voice as he says, "I would do that with you, if the new alpha has to take over and he won't accept a wolf-witch hybrid."

My breath hitches, and he reaches over to grab my hand, lacing our fingers together as he vows, "I'll make a pack for you somewhere, somehow, no matter what, Dee. Because it's the least the world owes you—and it's something good that I can do with this ability that lives inside me. So just know that I'll be there for you, even if the rest of the world isn't."

I swallow, all words failing me. Thankfully I don't have to think of anything to say, because a moment later Roarke is flipping me over, sliding down the bed, and dipping his face between my thighs.

As his lips part and his mouth descends on me, I grab his hand and hold it tight, needing that connection to him. He sucks gently on me, tongue finding my clit and drawing smooth circles around it. My hips rise up off the bed, breath coming in pants, free hand tightening in the quilts beneath me.

The awareness in me shifts, moves outward, and encompasses him. I feel the heat of his alpha powers do the same. He anchors me with his hand, care and devotion rippling out of him, and I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. For seven years, ever since that fateful day, I've been looking for a soft place to land, strong arms to catch me.

Now I've found it.

Thighs clamping around his head, I arch against him. Waves of pleasure clench my body together and press me against his open mouth. He strokes me through it, drawing more and more from me with the effortless pulse of his tongue. I turn my head to stifle my cries against the pillow, not wanting anyone else to hear, desperate to keep this moment just between us.

After I come down, Roarke rises between my legs, grabs his arousal, and dips down to kiss me. I moan, wrapping my legs around his waist and drawing him to me. His breath hitches as his length brushes against my skin, and I feel his hand work up and down, stroking faster and faster. A moment later warmth and wetness spills across me, accompanied by a soft, ragged gasp against my lips.

When he's done, he starts to roll away, but I don't let him. Capturing him tightly with my legs, I bring him down against my chest. His head lands next to mine on the pillow. I draw him near with a hand against his neck, nuzzling his cheek, then kiss him softly. He gasps and shudders against me, eyes fluttering closed.

A moment later, when I draw back from our kiss, I look down at our hands, still tightly woven together.

And I see an entire web of light, golden threads, pulsing and shivering, cascading from the spot where our fingers join. They shiver across the room and sink into our skin, curling around our legs and tightening, as if drawing us together.

Glancing up into Roarke's eyes, I look to see if he saw, but he's only staring at me. There's wonder in his gaze, devotion in his open expression—and beneath it all, felt by my new awareness, a sharp, anxious fear.

He still has a secret.

And he's certain that as soon as I find out, I won't want him anymore.

Twenty-Seven

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