Page 49 of Broken Forced Mate
The words stun me. Because the answer terrifies me.
“Yes,” I admit. “Of course it would have mattered.”
Something changes in his face. The mask he wears around me cracks, revealing hunger and longing and something I desperately want to be suppressed.
Before I can second-guess myself, I close the distance between us and kiss him.
This kiss carries three years of worry and relief. Every sleepless night, wondering if he was safe, every moment of terror when I thought I might lose him before we could resolve what’s between us.
His hands find my waist, and he hauls me against him. When I don’t pull away this time, he makes a sound deep in his throat that sends fire through my veins.
“Raegan,” he breathes against my lips.
“Don’t talk,” I whisper back. “Just…don’t.”
His mouth crashes against mine with years of pent-up hunger, and the supernatural bond between us flares to life, amplifying every sensation until I can barely think.
I can smell him now—that familiar scent of cedar and gunpowder and something wild that’s uniquely his. It fills my head, making me dizzy with need. My wolf recognizes his on a level that goes beyond conscious thought, and she wants to roll over and bare her throat in submission.
His hands slide under the hem of my shirt, and the contact with bare skin makes me gasp. “God, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against my throat.
The admission breaks something loose inside me. My hands find the hem of his T-shirt, and I shove it over his head just before his mouth finds the spot on my neck that makes me arch against him, and rational thought becomes impossible. The bond between us sings with recognition—this is right; this is what we’ve been denying ourselves.
“We shouldn’t,” I whisper even as I tilt my head to give him better access.
“Probably not.” His teeth graze my pulse point, and I whimper. “Tell me to stop.”
I can’t. Won’t. Instead, I slide my hands around his bare back and yank him even closer, needing the contact more than I need to breathe.
He lifts me effortlessly before he settles me on the workbench, where he was just cleaning weapons. The height puts us at the perfect level, and when he steps between my legs, my panties soak from the anticipation.
His mouth returns to mine while his hands work at my clothes. When he pushes my shirt up and over my head, I don’t protest.
“God, Raegan. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
The profanity sends heat straight to my core. I’ve never heard him talk like this before, never seen him lose control the way he’s losing it now. Seeing him wild and without restraint…I spent years wanting to see this side of him.
I reach for him, needing skin-to-skin contact. When my palms flatten against his torso, he hisses at the sensation. His skin burns under my touch, and his heart races beneath my fingers.
He kisses me again, slower this time, like he’s savoring the taste of me. His tongue slides against mine, and when he pulls back, we’re both panting.
“Tell me what you want,” he commands.
“You know what I want.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but the hunger in his eyes gives me courage. “I want your hands on me.”
He rewards my honesty by reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. The fabric falls away, leaving me bare from the waist up, and his eyes go dark.
“Perfect,” he breathes out before leaning down to take one nipple in his mouth.
The wet heat of his tongue makes me cry out. My hands fist in his hair, holding him against me as he worships my breasts with his mouth. When he bites down gently, the edge of pain mixed with pleasure sends shockwaves through my entire body.
“Wyn,” I gasp.
He switches to the other breast, giving it the same devoted attention while his hands roam lower. Down my ribs, across my stomach, making me shiver despite the heat building between us.
