Page 19 of Tolerated By the Sigma (Mate Hunt 7)

He grinned.

It was a massive grin that had me fighting a smile of my own. I won, luckily.

“To answer your question, I went to culinary school because I wanted to be a better cook, and that seemed like the most logical way to do so. I took night classes and did a short program; not one of the fancy ones.”

“Still, that’s impressive.”

He continued tracing the marks on my neck, and it was somehow both ticklish, relaxing, and hot at the same time.

“You never told me why your wolf picked my throat.” I gestured to my neck, not lifting my hand close enough to push him away.

“I can’t talk to him, but he’s a possessive, dominant bastard. You’ve met him, and seen him speak through me. I’d imagine that he marked you the way he did because he wants every single person you meet to know that you’re his, and he’s yours.”

“Well, he succeeded, then. I don’t think even a scarf or turtleneck could cover it,” I grumbled.

Ryder leaned forward and dragged his tongue slowly over the marks on my throat. My body shook in response, and damn, I wanted him.

“You never told me when you got all…” I gestured toward his pec. “Buff. And tatted. And hairy.” I tugged on a strand of his hair.

“Working out is one of the few things that helps me stay in control of my wolf, so I started doing a lot of it after the rejection. The hair happened because he usually tries to rip into anyone who touches me, including hairdressers, and I’m shitty at cutting it myself. And the ink… well, it started as a way to cover the scars my pack gave me in the forest when they tried to kill me. It became an addiction and coping mechanism after that. Not the tattoos themselves, but the pain.”

I grimaced for him.

He lifted his lips to my chin, and dragged his tongue over my jawbone. I never would’ve imagined that action could be sexual, but hot damn, it was.

A shudder tore through me, and he pressed his lips lightly to my cheek.

The kiss was soft, and sweet, and it made me really freakin’ horny.

“Do you need me to force-feed this to you?” He picked up another forkful of food.

With a grumble, I snagged it from his hand and lifted it to my lips himself. He watched the action hungrily—though I didn’t think it was actual food he hungered for.

“Do you have any tattoos?” He eyed me speculatively, his gaze trailing from my shoulders to my toes.

“Nope,” I said, through a full mouth.

“No desire? Overprotective sister?”

“Eh.” I shrugged, chewing and swallowing before replying. “Vi couldn’t care less about whether or not I have tattoos, as long as they’re not on my face. I’ve always thought they were cool, and I have a few ideas, but never felt confident enough about any of them to put them on my body permanently.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

“I do want to see your tattoos, though—and I want to know which ones are covering scars and what they mean,” I said, as he snagged the fork from my fingers and stabbed more food with it.

“Should’ve bargained for that instead of the handjob.”

I snorted as I filled my mouth with food, chewed, and then swallowed again. “No way. I had to ask for something you didn’t want to agree to.”

He lifted an eyebrow as he reloaded my fork. “You think I don’t want you to touch me?”

“I think you’re determined that an orgasm will be the death of you, and I want to prove you wrong.”

“I didn’t take you as a girl who loves a challenge,” he remarked.

“Asshole.”

He barked out a laugh. “Not in a bad way. But youwerehiding in a bathroom when we met yesterday.”

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