Page 44 of Trusting Her Mate

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

She lifts her hand and presses it flat against my chest. My heart slams against her palm.

“I just fought off a wolf who tried to kill my mate,” she says. “I think I can handle you wanting me too hard.”

My jaw clenches and my hands curl into fists at my sides. She watches me. Studies me. Then she drops to her knees. The sound of her knees hitting the tile shoots through me. Water streams over her face, her shoulders, her bare breasts. She looks up at me through the spray.

“Wren.”

“Let me.”

Her hands find my waist. Her fingers hook into my boxers, the ones I haven’t taken off yet, and drag them down. My cock is hard. Has been since the fight. Since before the fight. Since the moment she shifted and became something wild and terrifying and mine.

She wraps her hand around my length and I stop breathing. “Tell me you want this,” she says.

“I want this. Goddess knows I do.”

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you. I always want you. It’s driving me insane.”

Her mouth closes over the tip and my hand slams against the tile wall. The crack echoes through the bathroom. She takes me deeper. Slowly. Inch by inch. Her tongue traces the underside, and my hips jerk forward before I can stop them.

She doesn’t pull back. She takes it. Her throat opens, and she swallows me down until her nose presses against my stomach.

“Fuck.” The word tears out of me.

She pulls back, licks her lips, and looks up at me with those dark, devastating eyes.

“You taste like mine,” she says.

I snap and my hand fists in her hair. She moans as I thrust into her mouth. Not gentle. Not careful. The last threads of my control burn away. She takes everything I give her, her hands gripping my thighs, her throat working around me.

“Good,” I growl. “Take it. All of it.”

She does. Her eyes water, but she doesn’t stop. Her tongue works me with every thrust, and the bond blazes with her want. She’s enjoying this. She’s wet. I can smell it through the steam.

“I’m going to come,” I say. “If you don’t stop...”

She doesn’t stop and I come with a snarl. My hand tightens in her hair. My hips lock, and she swallows every drop, her throat milking me until my legs shake.

She pulls back, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and looks up at me, satisfied.

“My turn,” I say.

I shut off the water, grab a towel, and wrap it around her. Then I lift her off her feet and carry her to the bedroom.

She laughs. “Boone...”

“You started this.”

I drop her on the bed and the towel falls open. She’s naked, wet, and flushed. The claiming mark on her throat catches the afternoon light and I growl lowly. She reaches for me and I catch her wrists, pinning them above her head.

“Stay.”

I settle between her thighs. She’s slick. Ready. The scent of her hits me, and my wolf snarls with hunger.