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I’m unnerved by a desire to crawl into bed with her. Hold her.
Fuck that. Boning her hard from behind is one thing. Cuddling is something I will never let happen. She doesn’t deserve that from me. She’s not someone I can trust.
Still, my fingers reach to caress her cheek the way I did yesterday in the school bathroom when she slapped my hand away. I stop myself before I actually touch her.
Why doesn’t she wake up? She should know that someone’s broken into her house and is standing over her.
But then I realize–her wolf knows I’m safe.
Lotta the teacher may hate my guts. Lotta the artist. Lotta my neighbor. But her wolf isn’t ever going to stop me. Her wolf knows I belong here.
That she belongs to me.
Our futures are woven together so tightly neither of us will ever be free.
Lotta
I sleep like the dead. Like I did the night of the full moon.
I guess that’s what sex with my mate does to me. I have to sleep off the intensity. The extreme pleasure.
Fortunately, I don’t sleep through my alarm, but I wake up with drool on my pillow and lines on my face from the pillowcase. I stumble to the bathroom and flick on the light.
The white shower curtain is standing up, disheveled from last night. I stoop to pick up a crumb from the grilled cheese sandwiches and remember how it felt to be cared for. Asher may act like a dick, but he’s my mate. Taking care of me is what he’s wired to do.
It’s just biology,I tell myself fiercely when a warm flush spreads through my chest.He hates you. There will be no claiming.
I’d be foolish to believe he did anything last night out of caring for me.
No one cares for me–not truly. Not even my parents. I learned that the hard way when I didn’t do what they wanted me to do. I made it just fine on my own at college. I had my art. Art is something that has never betrayed me. It’s the friend I will always have.
Besides, even if Asher wasn’t my student and the relationship completely forbidden, I don’twantto be claimed. I don’t want a relationship with Asher. I need to earn enough money to get back to Chicago, or if I can swing it–New York or Los Angeles. I need to be around other artists. Get my work out there and try to make it.
Nothing would be more sad than me getting claimed by some wolf from my high school and staying here the rest of my life. Giving up on all my dreams. Satisfying my parents’ idea of a future for me.
“Ugh, no,” I mutter as I turn on the water and step into the shower. I hold my head under the spray and try to forget how magnificent Asher looked naked. That glorious broadchest and shoulders. The light dusting of tawny curls over his tanned skin. He’s incredible.
Sex with him is so different than it was with Andy–my college roommate–or even with the guys I hooked up with during the full moon runs in high school. He’s crazy dominant, which turns me on. A little mean. Also, a turn-on. I might need to examine that. But even with the meanness, the growls and spanks, underneath it all, Asher is a considerate lover. He’s completely in tune with me. Paced to my pleasure. He knows what I need and how to give it. If he denies me pleasure, that’s purposeful, too.
It’s night and day different from Andy’s self-absorption or the intense but awkward and fumbled efforts of my teenage lovers.
Asher may be younger than I am, but he fucks like a man. A real man.
Oh Fate. I’m falling for him.
Ido notwant to fall for this guy.
I shampoo and condition my hair, shave my legs, underarms, and between my legs, and step out of the shower. My stomach growls as I dry off. Despite the three and half sandwiches I ate last night, I’m hungry again.
Crap. Asher probably used up the last of the bread and cheese for the grilled cheese sandwiches last night, which means there’s nothing for my breakfast or to pack for lunch.
Maybe if I’m lucky, someone brought donuts to the staff room. Not that donuts are what Dr. Oakley recommended to nourish my wolf.
I exit the bathroom and get dressed then open the refrigerator door to see what I can scrounge.
“Oh!” I stare in shock at the food there. Milk. Eggs. Bread. Bacon. Sandwich meat.
Tears prick my eyes. I haven’t felt this cared for since I graduated high school.
