Wolf (The Henchmen MC 3)

His fingers dug in and stroked me over him again. My hands curled into the skin on his back as I tried to take a deep breath and think straight. On the third stroke that was driving me upward faster than I could have imagined possible, I choked out a strangled, "No." There was a pregnant pause, his hands still holding me hard, his cock still pressing against my pussy. Then his grip lessened and his hands fell away completely. I went down on my flat feet as my body screamed a painful objection to the loss of contact. I took a step back, reaching for the soap and pressing it into his hands. "I can't," I said though I wasn't sure he was paying any kind of conscious attention.

I pulled the curtain and walked out of the bathroom, stripping out of my wet tee and panties and rummaging around for the jeans and tank I had worn the night Wolf picked me up. I slid those on then threw on Wolf's flannel, buttoning it. Layers. I needed lots and lots of layers.

On a groan, I went to the kitchen.

I needed to make him food.

And, well, see, I have a bunch of talents. Cooking had never been one of them. As in, I couldn't do it. At all. But if he couldn't exactly remember how to wash himself, I doubt he had been in the right state of mind to feed himself either. So I pulled out the eggs and bread, deciding it was pretty hard to fuck up scrambled eggs and toast.

Food done, I took a deep breath and went into the bathroom to find the water off and Wolf dry. Though still naked. Because my hormones really needed that sucker punch.

"Clothes," I said, taking them off the counter and shoving them against his chest. "Then food. Hurry up, it's getting cold." Not that I thought the warmth of it would make it taste any better. The toast was burnt to shit and the eggs were the weirdest freaking consistency, kinda almost rubbery. I don't know. Maybe that was how they were supposed to be. Whatever. He needed to eat.

I sat down at the dining table, cradling a coffee cup. My stomach clenched painfully at the idea of trying to shove food into it so I just stared at his heaping plate until I heard the door open and Wolf walked out and sat down. He looked at the food for a long minute, brows drawn together, before he stabbed a forkful of egg and brought it up to his mouth.

He chewed for all of two seconds before swallowing hard.

Then the weirdest thing happened.

His fork clanged down onto the plate and he threw his head back and laughed.

Laughed.

Not a chuckle or a those rumbling things I'd heard him do before.

This was a real, genuine belly laugh.

The deep, masculine sound of it boomed off the walls and shivered under my skin.

Then his head lowered, his honey eyes on me.

"Woman..." he said, grinning.FOURTEENJanieIt was stupid to say I missed his voice, but I did. I didn't even realize it until I heard it again.

I felt my lips tip up. "I thought we talked about how 'woman' isn't a sentence."

"You talked," he agreed, lips twitching.

"And you apparently didn't listen. Woman what?"

"Worst fucking eggs ever," he chuckled again, shaking his head.

I should have been insulted, but, well, they looked like rubber and they kinda smelled awful too. Still, I had to say something. "I think you're supposed to say 'thank you for uncuffing me and cleaning me up and making me food when I was all Hulked out'." If I hadn't been watching him so closely and if he wasn't always so silent and often spoke in tiny nuances of expressions, I would have missed it. As it was, I saw it. Guilt. "Wolf, it's fine. I really didn't min..." But then the guilt got mixed with something else, something a little boyish, a little wicked. "You bastard!" I said, half-angry and half-amused. "When did you clue back in?"

"When you stepped in."

When I stepped in... to the shower. Oh, that shit! There I was worrying about him and his seemingly unbalanced mental and emotional state and the fucker was in his right mind again. While I was in the shower with him. When he was naked and hard! "I soaped you up!"

"Yeah you did," he said, his face losing all of the guilt and looking almost devilish.

"That was so juvenile," I lowered my eyes at him, crossing my hands over my chest.

"Yep," he agreed, pushing his plate almost completely across the table toward me like he didn't even want it anywhere near him. He took my coffee cup from my hands and took a sip himself.

I wanted to be annoyed at him. I really did. He crossed a line. It wasn't a particularly bad line to cross, but it wasn't cool and I wanted him to know that. But that being said, I was happy he was himself again. I was too relieved to hold onto my indignation.

"Are you alright?" I asked when the silence stretched on.

"Yeah."

Augh. I needed more than that.

"You sure? Because you were pretty, ah, shaken up not that long ago."

"Over it."

Over it? Over it?

Alright so my hands weren't exactly clean. I've had blood on them before. I'd done some things and I had gotten over them. Some things needed to be done. But still, he went full on rage monster to the point where there wasn't an inch of him that hadn't been covered in blood. Hell his hand looked like it had reached into someone's chest cavity and pulled out their heart. That was how much blood he had staining his skin and shoved under his fingernails. He couldn't just be... over that.

"Wolf..."

"Tired," he said, getting up so fast the chair scratched across the floor then tipped over. He walked toward the bed without picking it back up.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for beating my head up against a brick wall. I mean... talking to Wolf. I righted the chair and skirted around the opposite side of the bed. He was facing the door to the bathroom, away from me. I got on my knees behind him.