He wasn’t sure how to answer that. Staring down at her, all flushed and rosy and shuddering with aftershocks, wasn’t helping. God, he wanted her. No, he wasn’t mad. But admitting he was horny as hell, on the verge of losing it all over her stomach, probably wasn’t a good idea. She was too caught up in her orgasm to realize what she did to him. For him, right now, she was all silk curves and smiling invitation. An invitation he couldn’t accept. His, “No,” was a snarl.
“No?” she echoed, her fingertips running down his sides.
Goddammit. Her touch sent a shudder down his spine, causing him to jerk away from her—pressing his painful hard-on against her thigh. She froze, her eyes going round as her gaze traveled across his chest and down his stomach to examine his erection. When her gaze met his, her breathing was unsteady.
The unexpected feel of her fingers stroking him was heavenly torture. He pressed his eyes shut and groaned, arms stiffening, braced over her, too stunned to move. Not that he wanted to move. Hell no. This could work—this was what he needed. Her fingers closed around his shaft, sliding up, tracing the sensitive tip, and gliding down again. Arching into her hand was the natural thing. She understood, her grip tightening ever so slightly as she slid from root to tip, over and over. Her lips fastened onto his chest, her tongue stroked his nipple, and all the while her hand was leading him to surrender. His breathing grew frenzied, his thrust matching the rhythm of her stroke. His eyes popped open, boring into hers while her hand kept working.
“Mal,” she whispered. Her cheeks flushed pink, her red tongue darting out to lick her lower lip.
He came hard and fast—lost and found in a way he knew he’d pay for later. His blood roared, pure pleasure shooting through his veins and holding him rigid in her grip. It went on and on, draining him of his tension and anger. The calm that followed was unexpected.
She was smiling, looking far too pleased with herself. Her hand hovered over her abdomen, one finger tracking through the evidence of his release across her belly. All he could do was stare, his erection returning with a vengeance. She was incredible. Sexy, eager, generous—his.
“I do this to you?” she asked.
He nodded, once.
“You don’t like it?” she asked, her brows arching high.
He nodded again, smoothing a curl from her forehead. Like wasn’t the right word. Terrified worked.
She frowned. “Is this a normal human thing? Or is the craving a wolf thing?”
“I don’t know.” He was still a little breathless. But her question made him panic.
Her nose wrinkled. “Oh.”
Relief washed over him, and his wolf. Because he was a stupid ass. “I’ll be back,” he grumbled, pushing off the bed and crossing to the bathroom.
He found a washcloth and ran it under warm water, then returned. She lay in the middle of the bed, eyes closed, arms stretched over her head, legs parted. Pure sensual abandonment, and one helluva temptation. He glanced down at his cock rising to attention, and sighed.
“Mal,” she said, far too eager. “I-I don’t need mirrors.”
He sat on the side of the bed, wiping off the smooth plane of her stomach and all evidence of his weakness. “You need sleep,” he murmured. He carried the washcloth back into the bathroom and rinsed it in the sink, avoiding his own reflection in the mirror. How could he stay mad at Finn for breaking his word to them when he couldn’t even follow through on a promise he’d made to himself? He rubbed a hand across his face, instantly distracted by the lingering scent of Olivia on his fingers.
Her scent.
He turned, staring into the bedroom. Olivia was already asleep, curled onto her side. And even though he knew there were things to discuss, this was where he wanted to be. He slid between the sheets and fitted her tight against him. She stretched slightly, her back arching against his chest, the delectable curve of her ass tilting toward his more than willing erection. He buried his nose in her hair, pressed his hand against her belly, and let himself imagine what it would be like to have Olivia as mate.
...
Olivia didn’t want to wake up. She was warm and relaxed, Mal’s breath stirring the air above her ear. He was sound asleep, his body twitching occasionally. How long had it been since he’d slept? Her nightmare situation had lasted no time at all compared to the three months he’d spent in that place.
She closed her eyes, relishing the calm.
It was time to wrap her head around what was about to happen. Meeting Finn and the rest of the pack would change everything. Again. As much as she wanted to believe Mal wouldn’t leave her—especially now that they’d shared whatever this was—her stomach churned all the same. And instead of pushing the issue and getting a direct answer, she’d let this happen. And, oh my goodness, had she happened. She sighed, a full-body shudder reminding her of the pure bliss Mal had introduced her to.
Blissful for her, maybe not so much for him? He’d had sexual experiences before. What she’d considered a life-changing event might not rank in his top ten. Her euphoria took a sharp dip. Not that she wanted him to stay for purely physical reasons. She just wanted him to stay—with her.
He wouldn’t leave her right away. If he did go, it would be after she’d been accepted by Finn’s pack. A pack she didn’t know. There was so much she didn’t know. With Mal’s tight-lipped disposition, getting answers from him would be a challenge. And time was running out.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was gruff.
She jumped. “Nothing. You were sleeping.”
“I was,” he agreed. “Your heart is pounding.”
“And that woke you?” she asked, smiling. Was it wrong that she loved how in tune he was to her?