Wolf (The Henchmen MC 3)

"I'm good," he said, moving away to lean against the kitchen counter, hands grabbing the edge, focus still on me in a way that made me want to squirm.

"There's still a couple hours until the sun is up. I didn't mean to..."

"Woman," he cut me off.

"What?" I asked when he didn't elaborate. Was 'woman' supposed to mean more than a word in man-language?

"Said I'm good."

And I guessed that was that because he pushed away from the counter and went into the bathroom. A minute later, I heard the shower running. At a loss for what to do while I waited for the coffee to drip, I made the bed and rummaged around for mugs. The door swung open a moment later and my head snapped over. And holy hell.

Yeah so... Wolf didn't take clothes in with him when he went in the bathroom. I guess being so used to be alone and able to walk around naked after a shower made it completely slip his mind. Because there he was in the bathroom doorway with one of his white bath towels slung low on his hips. The material was stretched tight around his massive frame and I got the distinct impression that any kind of movement could send it pooling to his feet. I kind of wanted him to move.

Again, weird.

I didn't even have a sex drive. Literally. None. That wasn't even a part of my life in the least. Not after all the shit that I... Yeah I wasn't going to think about that. Let's just say, sex wasn't a part of my life. So wanting to see his naughty bits was so not like me. Besides, what was not covered by the towel was plenty to take in. From the fully exposed frame revealing the breadth of his strong shoulders and chest, to the indentations of his abdominal muscles, to the bulging power of his arms, and the unmistakable strength in his legs. Then, of course, there was the window dressing. Meaning, the ink. He had it and he had it in abundance. As someone who obviously appreciated being a human canvas herself, I really enjoyed looking at other peoples' work. Wolf was no exception. From across the room, I couldn't make it all out as it snaked up his arms and across his chest, but I could see an eight-ball, a web, flowers, and some kind of bird. Across the center of his chest was a bold lettering saying "Henchmen".

So yeah. Wolf was definitely a sight to behold. Even for an asexual freak like me.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Coffee is done," I said, spinning away from him so fast that I felt light-headed and had to slam my hand down on the counter. Behind me, I heard him shuffling around. When I thought it was safe, I turned again. "How do you want..." Yeah it wasn't safe yet. While he had a pair of black jeans on and big, clunky combat boots, he was still shirtless and his zip to his pants was still undone, revealing a dark happy trail that led down into his pants. As if sensing my thoughts, or more likely, seeing my gaze linger there, his big hands went down and pulled the zipper and pressed the button into place.

"Come here," he said suddenly, making me jump.

"What? Why?"

"Woman..." he said, sounding mildly frustrated. And given how even-tempered he usually seemed, I found myself responding and walking toward where he was sitting off the edge of the bed. I might add he was still freaking shirtless. Deciding space was necessary, I sat down at the very edge of the other end of the bed. I did this, but I didn't stay there. I didn't stay there because suddenly I felt the mattress jump as Wolf lunged downward and tagged my ankles, grabbing them and pulling me sideways, squealing like a kid on a carnival ride. My ankles were released but only because I suddenly found my thighs draped across Wolf's. My/his tee had ridden up during the movement and was gathered up high enough that you could see the black outline of my panties. When I looked up, his gaze was focused there. It took me a good couple of seconds to force my hands to move the material of the tee back into place.

When I did, his gaze rose to mine. "What are you doing?" I asked, my voice sounding a little breathless.

"Arm," he said, grabbing it and holding it up. He released it and moved to unwrap it carefully. I sat there numbly and let him, my eyes focused on his face that was focused on his task. I felt the last of the gauze release and his eyes suddenly cut to mine, making me inhale on what could only be described as a gasp. Yeah. I was pretty sure I had somehow inhaled too much of the ingredients to the bombs and caused some kind of brain damage. Something was definitely wrong with me. "Hurt?" he asked, interpreting my gasp for one of pain.

My eyes moved to my arm, looking weird with the remains of the burn cream still smeared on the skin that was still really unusually red. It stung. It wasn't like I had expected though. "It's alright," I said, shrugging. "I feel like it should hurt more than it does."

"Mind over matter," he said with a shrug of his own.

"That was a huge tub of that burn cream stuff. You burn yourself often?"

"It happens."

Augh. He was killing me with his lack of conversational skills.

"Where?" I found myself asking.

"Back," he said simply and I felt myself nodding. It was the only part of him I hadn't gotten a good look at. A weird part of me wondered if he had scars there. I thought about that until I felt one of his hands slap down on my thigh, a couple inches above my knee. It was such a strange feeling that my eyes moved to look, seeing his giant hand pretty much encompassing my entire thigh. But it was just resting there, not doing anything, looking like he just had nowhere else to put it. But then his thumb moved outward, stroking up my thigh slightly and a shiver coursed its way through my whole body. Our eyes sought each others, both mirroring confusion. I felt myself swallow hard, looking for something flippant to say to ease the tension, but coming up blank. Shockingly, Wolf ended the silence. "Go shower," he said, his palm squeezing my thigh before pushing them off of his lap and moving to stand.