Olivia sat on the edge of a long sofa. Her fingers plucked the edge of the cushion, tracing the seam of the buttery leather fabric. It smelled clean. Not clean like the fresh night air or the towering pines. But sterilized. As the door of the cabin closed the air seemed to thicken, weighing her down—making her clammy.
“There’s a bedroom,” Dante offered. “Or a bathroom, if you want a shower?”
A shower. On a plane. Because Finn was rich. And, apparently, rich people had showers on their airplanes. She glanced at Mal, her mind flooded with images of him naked, covered in soap suds, and glorious.
Clear her head, that’s what she needed to do. Focus on drowning out the white noise so she could sift through the emotional minefield in her head.
After being alone with Mal for so long, the confined space and extra bodies pressed in on her until she almost missed the snow, the dilapidated cabin, and the endless trees she’d found comfort in. She should focus on that—the quiet black night of the forest. Not the mad beat of her pulse reverberating through her spine and neck, making her head throb. She blinked, pressing a hand to her temple. She was vaguely aware of Dante and Mal talking, of Gentry’s southern drawl over the intercom, but to her it was white noise. A deafening, whirring buzz that challenged her focus.
“Here.” Mal’s offer of a glass of water startled her but she took the glass and nodded her thanks. He sat by her, his hand wrapping around hers and soothing the fight rising within her. “Olivia.” His voice was low. “Look at me.”
She blinked and frowned and stared at the ceiling, but eventually she had to look at him. He was too beautiful. Light brown eyes burned into hers. His jaw locked, lips pressed flat—as if he was holding something back. Everything about him was restrained.
“We’ll talk when we get there,” he said to Dante, pulling her to her feet. “Right now, might be best if we got some sleep.”
It didn’t take long for them to find the bedroom. But once inside the lavish room, she stared in astonishment. No more chains or dark basements, bloody snow or truck-stop showers. It seemed ridiculous they were here. How had she ended up with strangers who were werewolves, headed toward some wolf refuge owned by the billionaire with a fancy plane. Who happened to be the Alpha of the pack. Their werewolf pack.
Her lungs emptied, each fingertip going tingly, while cold sweat ran down her spine. All of this was wrong and completely illogical. But the voice in her head—her wolf—didn’t want her to worry. Her wolf? The door shut behind her, but she didn’t turn to face Mal. How could she? She was on the verge of an emotional implosion.
His hands landed on her shoulders, causing a full body shiver. “Sleep?” The word brushed her ear.
Sleep? She shook her head, too worked up to think about sleep. Her brain was too busy short-circuiting to sleep. She’d rather fight, argue, anything to let out some of her unexplained aggression. “Stop trying to control me, Mal.”
“Olivia.” He turned her, tilted her head back. His gaze searched her face, a furrow forming between his thick brows. “You—”
“I frustrate you, I know. I’m a nuisance. I’m spiraling out of control, and you don’t know what to do with me,” she whispered, watching the play of emotions on his face. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do with me, either.”
“You amaze me,” he finished. His hand cupped her cheek. There was warmth in his gaze, a heavy, delicious warmth that erased the jagged edges from her hurt and temper.
Her heart thumped. He cared about her, she knew it. Her wolf, vague and unfocused as the voice was, knew it, too. Things seemed to click into place. “But you’re going to leave me with him—with Finn—aren’t you?” she asked. That was why she was afraid. That was what was wrong. She couldn’t do this without him.
He frowned. “I’m going to do what’s best for you.” His hands slid down her shoulders and released her.
She shivered. “That’s not an answer,” she whispered, her gaze falling to his lips. It was the only answer she was going to get.
He steered her to the bed. “We’ll talk later. Now, sleep.” He yawned and kicked off his boots. She watched him stretch, immediately distracted by the angles and edges of his torso. Was it normal to have so many abs, or was that a werewolf thing?
He dropped his pants and sat, naked, to pat the bed beside him.
She stared. He was naked. He was totally naked. And this was the first time they’d been alone without the fear of being ambushed or mauled. She could stare at him, set aside her frustration, for the few hours they had together before landing. This was their time, a time to get acquainted without the rest of the world pressing in on them. Looking at him was easy, but the looking turned to wanting and difficulty breathing and hot, aching hunger—
“Olivia.” There was a hint of warning in his voice. A hint. “Sleep.”
“Like actual sleep?” She sounded like a disappointed child. “But you’re naked,” she mumbled.
He grinned. “It’s how I sleep.”
Fine. “Then that’s how I sleep, too.”
His eyes narrowed, the muscle in his jaw clenching tight. He wasn’t stopping her.
Hands trembling, she tugged her hoodie over her head and dropped it on the floor. She kicked off her boots, avoiding his gaze when one of them stuck, almost tripping her. The sweatpants were loose—tugging the knot free made shimmying out of them easy. The white Truckers Do It on The Road T-shirt was long enough to cover her, but they both knew she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
His hands fisted in the comforter.
She’d reached for the hem when his hands tugged her close between his legs. The heat of his muscular thighs against her bare skin was glorious. She closed her eyes, hands braced on his shoulders.
“You’re going to make me do something I’ll regret.” The anguish in his voice drew her attention. He was sad, so sad.