Page 52 of Ravaged Wolf
She turns a few circles and plops herself in the middle, curling into a ball. He lies down beside her, and she snuggles up to his side, tucking her snout in his furry haunch. Seconds later, she’s out like a light, and I follow not much later, lulled to sleep by the chitter of crickets and the rise and fall of our mate’s body as he breathes.
I wakeup butt naked in a pile of old, brown leaves in Trevor’s arms. He’s naked, too. We’re both naked.
In an instant, every muscle in my body tightens. He startles awake. We’re lying on our sides, our fronts pressed together, breast to chest, thigh to thigh, so I watch from an inch away as realization dawns in his eyes, followed immediately by panic.
“Don’t anyone throw up,” I squeak through my locked jaw. I don’t mean to joke; it just comes out.
He squeezes his eyes shut, draws in a deep breath, and then exhales. His breath heats my cold neck. I’m warm where our skin touches, but everywhere else is numb.
We’re naked. Alone. On the ground. He’s hard. He’s poking my stomach. I tense tighter, the scent of my fear bursting into the crisp morning air. His wolf growls in his throat.
This is the moment when he’s going to let go.
Jump up.
Run.
I feel his muscles prime to bolt.
But he doesn’t. He loosens his hold a fraction, but he leaves his arms around me, and draws another deep breath, and then another. Each time he inhales, his hard nipples poke my soft boobs.
He does angle his hips away so he’s not poking me quite so hard, but otherwise, he doesn’t move. His thighs stay pressed to mine. Our calves are shuffled—his, mine, his, mine. Our feet are tangled. Mine are kind of hooked under his, the tops of mine pressed to his soles.
I’ve never been this close to a person before.
Except for that night.
But that was different.
Iknow that. The chemicals in my body don’t.
My heart and lungs and muscles are primed to fight orflee, and by all rights, my lizard brain should be pulling the trigger, but for some reason, I hang on the precipice of a freak out instead, teetering but not falling, one second, and then one second more.
Trevor inhales slowly. His chest lifts, and his belly rises against mine. Then he exhales just as slowly—one, two, three, four—with his lips slightly pursed like he’s blowing through a straw. I have no choice but to breathe with him. We’re in this together. He’s not letting go, and I’m not fighting.
He presses his forehead to mine, and in a raw voice, he chants, “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you again. You’re safe. I’m stronger now. I’d die before I hurt you again. I’m so fucking sorry, Izzy. I’m so sorry. So very sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. I’m so fucking sorry. You’re okay. I won’t hurt you. I swear.” His tears drop on my cheeks. His wild curls tickle my face.
His looped arms have mine trapped at my sides. I wriggle them. He immediately relaxes his hold even more. I reach up and push his hair back. He backs his head an inch away and blinks at me. Pale lines radiate from his pupil and make his eyes more blue than gray. They’re so clear. I can read them like a book. He’s scared. Uncertain. Fascinated.
“I lost my clothes,” I whisper like I’m telling him something he doesn’t know. What he just said was too big. I can’t take it on now, here, naked in a ditch.
His soft lips twitch. My insides jump like I’ve got bingo, and my face blazes.
“Me, too,” he whispers back.
“What do we do?”
His brow wrinkles. “I don’t think we have a lot of choices.”
“How far away from home are we?”
I’m so close, I can see his pupils widen when I say thewordhome. Something low in my stomach pulls. Oh, no. I have to pee. I squeeze my thighs together.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, immediately picking up on my discomfort.
“I—uh—” Don’t make me say it. Read my mind. Please.
He has the grace to switch the conversation back. “We’re about an hour’s walk away. Less if we shift.”
