Page 50 of Tolerated By the Sigma (Mate Hunt 7)

I lifted an eyebrow at him, waiting for the invitation he’d just promised.

Honestly, his confession was really damn adorable. He’d stumbled over his words, and something about seeing a big, tatted, sexy-as-sin guy like that stumbling over an invitation warmed my heart and about melted my panties too.

His face reddened a bit. “Is that a yes?”

“A yes to what? You haven’t actually asked me anything. Thanks for the food, though.” I turned my head, focusing back on the detective show on the TV. I was pushing him, and I knew it, but I wanted to see what he’d do about it.

And also, I was really, really horny.

His gigantic hand landed on my upper thigh, his fingers digging into my leg much too close to my crotch for any kind of comfort. “Charly,” he said, as I turned my head back so our eyes collided. “Will you go on a date with me?”

I feigned considering it, and his eyes narrowed at me. “That depends,” I finally said, turning back to the TV.

He released my thigh, sliding his hand around my cheek so he could turn my head himself, making sure I was looking at him. “On what?”

“What you want to do for this date, and when you want to do it. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re both incredibly horny right now, and I’m not walking around some fancy restaurant with my own wetness dripping down my damn thighs while you growl at me and your erection salutes everyone else in the damn building.”

Understanding flooded his eyes, and his lips curved upward a bit. “You’re self-conscious.”

“Of the fact that our bodies think we should be fucking like rabbits and you’re not interested in doing so? Very.”

His amusement vanished, and his eyes narrowed at me. “You think I’m not interested in fucking you?”

“I think I’ve propositioned you a number of times and you’re so afraid of losing control that you won’t even let me give you the handjob you promised me.”

His eyes turned to slits, and his hands released my face, lifting to his shirt. He tugged it over his head, then tossed it to the floor. His fingers were on the button of his jeans a heartbeat later, and then all he wore was a pair of boxer-briefs that looked way too small for the gigantic dick testing the stretch of their fabric.

I let myself stare at him for a long moment, before turning my head back toward the TV.

Ryder grabbed the remote off the armrest beside me, and shut the screen off.

Before I knew what was happening, he had grabbed me around the waist and hauled me into the kitchen, setting me on the counter. Our eyes were almost level, and his hand caught mine, lifting it to his bare chest. His heart thudded beneath my palm, beating harder than I would’ve suspected. “You affect me so much that I literally broke a plate a few minutes ago, Kelley. So much that my fucking heart is still beating like a freight train because of thelounge clothesyou put on. So much that I’ve already imagined bending you over nearly every surface in this fucking house, filling you with every inch and every drop of my fucking need for you.”

He was snarling, by then, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his erection nearly bursting through the fabric keeping it from me. “Of course I’m afraid—I’m fucking terrified. Not because of you; because of me, and my wolf, and the wreck that was my past. Do you know how many times Lisa told me how disgusting I was? How many times she told me that she wouldn’t fuck me if we were the last people on earth? How many times she made me believe I wasn’t enough of a man, or a wolf, or any of the fucking things she thought I should’ve been?”

He shoved a hand through the already-wild, wet strands of his hair, breaking our eye contact. His voice was lower when he finally spoke again, and gruffer, too. “I fucking lied about the ink, and the working out. It turned into an obsession, but not because it distracted my wolf—though it did that too. Because when I was changing my body, I was trying to convince myself that I wasn’t the piece of shit that the woman who was supposed to be my mate thought I was.”

He continued, “Because some sick part of me thought that if I changed the man I saw in the mirror, that I wouldn’t hear her insults every time I looked at myself. That I wouldn’t feel so fucking ashamed that I wasn’t enough for the woman fate chose for me—that I would somehow convince myself that I wasn’t as worthless as she thought I was. I changed everything there was about me to change, because I was so damned terrified that Lisa was right—that I was worthless.”

There was a long, tense moment between us.

My heart was pounding nearly as hard as Ryder’s was, and I could still feel the pound of his against my palm.

“And?” I finally whispered, when he didn’t keep going.

His eyes were so blue—and so sad—when they met mine again. “And I still feel like a complete fucking failure, Charly. I haven’t done a single thing right when it comes to you, and I’m clearly still not good enough. I have no idea how to be what you or anyone else needs, and—”

I cut him off with a palm to his mouth. “You’re trying, aren’t you?”

There was another moment of silence before I pulled my palm away from his mouth.

His chest was still heaving when he finally answered, “Like hell, Char. I’m trying likehell.”

“In my book, trying is what matters. I’m sorry that Lisa was such a bitch to you, but I’m not going to pity you; I don’t think you want my pity,” I said, my heart pounding as I tried to choose my words carefully. That definitely wasn’t one of my talents, but I wanted my words to come across a certain way so they didn’t offend him, so he could understand how I felt about this.

“Fuck, no. I want your lust, and your desire, and your love, and your adoration—not your pity.” The man nearly snarled the words, and I knew I’d understood that properly—and gotten my words across well too.

“Good, because you don’t have it. I don’t pity you. You look like a Greek God, and I could probably get off just thinking about that face and those hands at this point,” I said bluntly.

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