Page 24 of Secrets and S'mores
He chuffs, swinging back toward me and nudging my hand. Before I can pet him, he pulls away.
“Fine.” Giving in, I tug my shirt over my head and drape it over the chair. “But you’re coming back to get my clothes. I like this outfit.”
He answers with another chuff. As I strip off my leggings, he watches me boldly. He’s seen me naked before, but it feels different now.
As soon as my clothes are piled together, I shift. Black fur overtakes my pale skin and I drop down onto four paws. The forest lights up around me, bright as daylight. Onyx wears a charming smirk on his muzzle. He’s a fine looking wolf, dark gray with black across his back. Lighter gray-brown peppers his chest and down his belly.
With a wag of his tail, he bolts. My wolf instincts surge, ready to chase him. It feels so good to give in to that urge. My paws dig into the soft earth and launch me forward, wind threading my fur like a caress.
Onyx weaves through the trees ahead, and I duck my head and increase my speed to catch up to him. He zips forward, just out of reach.
Trees whip past, and I spot a dark trailer to our right. Onyx turns, curving our path eastward. I cut the curve and playfully snap at his tail as I get closer.
Wolves are meant to run, and my body floods with feelings of contentment. My instincts whisper that this is right where I am meant to be.
He never lets me catch him, and being a smaller wolf, I can’t close the distance. But utter satisfaction soaks into my being as we lope back toward his cabin.His granite wolf scales the porch steps and shifts back to human, grabbing a shirt off a stack of clothes set out.
I turn my eyes away from his body. “Ember,” he murmurs, “shift back.” Peeking, I realize he’s holding up an oversized shirt for me instead of dressing himself.
It takes me a minute to focus enough to shift back. The naked man standing here waiting for me doesn’t help my concentration. With one hand crossing my breasts, I accept the shirt from him. Like a gentleman, he focuses on dressing himself while I slide the soft cotton over my head. It drapes down to mid-thigh.
Onyx stands in sweatpants, chest bare. Endorphins linger in my blood, and I can’t help but smile at him. He stares at me, a stupid grin spreading over his handsome face. We are a pair of idiots. Especially him, opening himself up to his enemy. But we don’t feel like enemies right now, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
Silently, he pulls the door open and we pad toward our bedrooms. His door hangs open and I can see Cedar sprawled across one of the two beds. Onyx follows my gaze and then rolls his eyes.
Instead of going to his own room, he follows me to my door. I twist toward him, wondering what he’s thinking. He moves forward into my space until I’m leaning back against the closed bedroom door.
“Did you have a good time at dinner?” he whispers, his lips moving to my ear. The skin across my cheek and ear light up like he’s touched me, though I can only feel his breath.
“Not really,” I say honestly.
“I didn’t like it either,” he says. “I prefer when you eat dinner with me.”
My hand flattens against his chest and I mean to push him away, but can’t bring myself to do it. He takes it as an invitation to touch, and one hand goes to my hip. His thumb digs into my skin through the thin cotton shirt.
“Onyx,” I say in warning.
“Ember,” he answers. The rumble of his voice skitters goosebumps across my skin. “I like you in my shirt,” he says. His mouth drops to my shoulder and he gently bites my shoulder through the cloth.
“You’re running high off your shift,” I choke out.
His navy eyes shoot to mine, his head coming up so fast his dirty blonde hair flops over his brow. He ignores it, all of his focus on my face. I want to shrink under the intensity.
“No,” he starts, “I can’t stay away from you.” The draw of his brows and the downward curve of his mouth tell me he doesn’t want to feel this pull toward me. I’m a guilty pleasure.
“You’re attracted to angry women who hurt you.” It’s a statement.
His eyes narrow and my heartbeat picks up. “I’d rather fight with you than be with anyone else.”
“Don’t say things to me like that,” I hiss, pleading. “You don’t actually like me.”
His brows furrow, mouth curving into a slight frown. I wait for whatever cuttingbarb is coming my way.
“I like you too much.”
Pushing off the door frame, he walks away from me. Cold washes down my chest and stomach in his absence. He likes me?
His door clicks closed, and I numbly let myself into Briar’s room. Adrenaline from his touch still rages, compounding the hormones already in my system. It’s too much. Exhaustion seeps in, and I curl up in the bed. Before passing out, my fingers twine through the wide neckline of the shirt, bringing it up to my nose. His scent is faded after going through the wash, but it’s still there. It seeps into my lungs and into my very being as I lose myself to sleep.
