Page 39 of Wolf's Providence

“You won’t.” Taking his hand, I guided it to my stomach, pressing his large hand against my abdomen, ignoring the twinge of pain. Quickly, I dropped my hand from his, but Caleb kept his pressed gently against my puckered skin.

With confidence I didn’t think I had, I pulled my shirt up, over my head, exposing my chest to him, dropping the shirt on the floor.

“Look at me,” I instructed him. Taking his hand once more, I pulled his fingers over my skin. “Look at me and touch me. I’m not a shifter,” I reminded him. “I don’t lose my scars. I want you to look at them, really see them.” His eyes were glued to my body.

Gently I took his hands, bringing them up to my chest, making him feel the weight of my breasts. For a second, he didn’t move, but I felt his fingers flex, and slowly, his hands curled into my body, cupping my breasts, his thumbs stroking over my nipples. His gaze was fixed on my body. I watched as his attention seemed torn between my breasts and my scars.

“Touch me, Caleb,” I told him. “I’m yours.”

TWELVE

Caleb

Her words shatteredthe last of my resolve, but I was hanging on to my control. Barely.

Touch me. I’m yours.

I stood frozen, as if time had stopped, the words echoing in my head. On replay. Over and over, searing into my skin like a brand. She was offering me everything,trustingme despite what I’d done—despite the darkness that lived within me.

She trusted me. But I didn’t trust myself. Not with her. Not with this.

I stared at her, my chest heaving as my instincts to claim her warred with the guilt that gnawed at me from the inside. Willow stood before me, bare, vulnerable, yet her gaze was steady, her posture straight and proud. But all I could see were the scars I’d caused. They marred her perfect skin because I’d failed her. And yet, here she was, asking me to touch her as if none of it mattered.

“Willow…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. I didn’t even know what I was trying to say. My head was spinning. My body was torn between the need to cover her body with mine or to turn away and talk sense into her.

She shouldn’t be asking this. She shouldn’twantthis.

Her hand reached out, taking hold of my right hand, and she guided it slowly and deliberately to the scar on her abdomen. The deepest one, the one that had almost taken her life. Her skin was warm beneath my fingers, but I could only feel the cold rush of fear. The memory of her blood on my hands, of that moment when I thought she was gone forever, it haunted me.

And now she wanted me to touch her?

“I won’t break, Caleb,” she whispered, her breath shaky but her gaze warm and steady. She wanted to convince me, but I wasn’t convinced.

Pulling back, I didn’t expect her grip to tighten, keeping my hand where it was, forcing me to feel her.

See her.

“Look at me,” she directed softly, her gaze locking with mine. “I’m right here. I survived.Wesurvived.”

“You don’t understand,” I protested, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You shouldn’t haveneededto survive.”

“But I did.” Her tone was firm. “And now, I needthis, I needyou.”

Her voice was filled with so much certainty, like she could see right through me, like she knew I was falling apart inside. And maybe she did. The bond between us had begun to feel like a living thing, threading between us, tying us to each other in ways I didn’t understand.

I hated the tremble in my fingers as they rested against her skin, feeling the ridges of the scar beneath them. She was soft, warm, and alive. My memory raced with the night I almost lost her. The night I failed her.

“Willow, you can’t?—”

“Yes, I can,” she spoke over me. Her palm pushed my hand into her skin firmer. Making sure my touch held. “You need to believe in us, believe that you won’t hurt me.” Her voice sounded a little breathless, and I realized how vulnerable she was too.

She was being strong, and she was asking me to be the same. I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t safe. I knew that. She had to know it too. The animal in me, the part that wanted to claim her, to mark her as mine, was there, and I knew it would always be there, lurking beneath the surface. And after everything, having lost control before, did I really trust myself not to lose it again?

I knew she could see the doubt in my eyes, feel it through the bond, and yet she never wavered. Gently, she guided my hand across her stomach, up over her side, and along her ribs, showing me that she wasn’t afraid of my touch.

“I’m yours,” she said again, her voice barely a whisper, although it had the power to wrap around me like a noose. “You know I am.”

A low growl rumbled in my chest, my instincts reacting to her words before my mind could catch up. The bond flickered, pulling us closer, and the need to possess her once more roared to life. My hand moved on its own, tracing over the curve of her waist, relishing the softness of her skin beneath my calloused touch.

---