Chapter 116

Chapter 116

"What are you doing?" When he stood in front of me once more, I repeated.

"I told you I was going to take care of you." With a mumble, he took hold of my hands, dragged me off the counter, and grabbed the bottom of my shirt.

"And how are you going to do that?" I looked up at him, perplexed.

"First, I'm going to clean you up, and then I'm going to feed you."

"And after that?"

"You will get some more rest so you can get your strength back." I scowled at him, not sure if he was being sincere or not, because I could feel his hunger for me against my skin like a hot iron.

"What about the mark?"

"You need your strength back first." He reiterated.

"But I want you," I uttered a flat complaint.

"I understand," he said in a tense voice. "I know exactly what you want, but I don't want anything between us when I take you—no murderous mother, no loose ends; I just want it to be the two of us and all the time in the world." I scowled once more.

Though I understood the reality, his words were beautiful.

He was accepting responsibility for my current state of affairs out of shame and fear that he would injure me.

I stayed silent for a while, considering what to say next.

I looked up at him and said, "You need to take a shower too." As he ripped my shirt off of me, his jaw twisted.

Although this had been accomplished previously, I found myself encircling my nude form in my arms. I stepped gingerly in front of him and then cautiously entered the shower he had set up. Not that the water was hot enough for me, but at least there was no steam to block my view of him through the glass wall.

As he saw the water soaking into my flesh, I could see him well, with his back straight. I briefly stood with my face tipped upward, the water relieving minor physical pains that my wolf was unable to heal. Afterward, I moved to lean against the wall and made my intentions apparent by picking up a bar of soap.

I first slide it along my arms, sighing as my muscles ached from the strain. After that, I reclined against the wall once more and inhaled deeply before raising my arms a second time.

This time, I began on my stomach, letting out another series of irritated grunts as I trailed my hands upward.

I would much prefer to have his hands on me than mine, and as the soap fell out of my palms and clanked on the shower floor, it appeared he thought the same thing.

I let out another moan before my utterance ceased as I observed him undress.

He stepped into the shower with me, picking up the soap off the floor and bowing in front of me with purpose.

He gave me a sad look and pinned me.

"You're being unfair." I sighed and placed my hands against his chest as he spoke.

I complained, "You're the one being unfair." "My arms hurt; I want you to wash me." My comments made him sigh, and he slammed me up against the wall once more.

His hands moved more naturally than mine did, and as they made contact with my flesh, my breath caught in my throat.

I could see precisely how much I was impacting him, so I groaned as the electric pulse raced through me, but he still didn't respond.

With measured movements, his hands slipped down my legs and curled around the insides of my thighs, sloping over my breast and pressing against my navel. My hands on him also moved down to his waist—descending, descending, descending.

"If you don't stop, I'll tie your hands to the showerhead." I sighed and gave in with ease.

Due to the way his hands felt against my body, I refrained from pushing him, but I could not help but comment on the explicit nature of the image he was constructing.

"Maybe next time." Then, with a moan, he replaced the soap with a bottle of shampoo.

He spun me around so my back was to him, but before I could object to this new arrangement, he dragged me up against him and entangled his hands in my hair.

"Is this better?" I felt his arousal pressing against the base of my back as he whispered and worked his hands, lathering the shampoo in my hair.

I pressed my hip into his while emitting a gasping moan due to my inability to refrain.

He laughed.

"You won't run away from me again this time, will you?" He made fun of me, his fingers deliberately digging into my mark, and then he forced me under the water once more.

As the shampoo washed out of my hair, some dripped into my eyes.

When I was able to see him again, I gave him a sneer before grabbing the soap over to the side.

"It's my turn." Taking the soap from my hands, he scoffed.

"No," he said, brushing off my touch neediness far too quickly. "But I'll be quick for you."

After five minutes, he was searching through his closet for something to wear while I was sitting on his bed in a towel. As he strolled back to me wearing a hoodie and shorts, I got an idea. He had his own towel wrapped around his waist.

He worked to push my hair out of my face, making sure to show me my mark so he could examine it closely, and he started to dress me. Then he stood up and pulled the hoodie against my body. He had kneeled to my feet and helped me slide into the shorts by forcing them onto my legs.

I caught hold of the towel around his waist and let it drop to the ground before he had a chance to turn away from me once more.

"What are you doing?" I held onto his sides tightly, making him stay where he was.

"You said that you were going to feed me, and suddenly I'm feeling very hungry." I fixed my gaze on him. Why was he rejecting every touch I was eager to offer him? It must hurt him to hold it all in that way.

"I want to taste you." My hand went around him, and he snarled.

"I'll make you something to eat." With a grunt, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist, preventing me from extending my hand along his length.

"You once said to me that you would give me anything that I wanted."

"Kylie—" He let out a frustrated grunt.

"I spent a week without your touch, your scent, or your presence, and now I need you—I want you." He still gave off an air of uncertainty. "Why are you holding back from me?"

He ran a hand over his hair while staring straight into my eyes.

He was battling his inner demons, which were all keeping him back from achieving our shared goals.

"You deserve better. I don't want to fuck you on a schedule; I want to treasure every inch of you." It didn't make sense either, but I could see where he was coming from.

If I hadn't beat my mother, she would have said, "I know you feel guilty for what has happened, but you have a whole lifetime to right your wrongs.

Right now, I don't want you to be a gentleman—I want to mark you, and I want you to be inside of me when I do." However, if we did win, we would have had eternity in our wallets. He shoved me onto the bed and tore off the clothes he had just put on me, as if something inside of him had snapped.

"I can never deny you the things you want." He spoke and planted a kiss directly above my heart.

"I love you," I whispered, pressing his body against mine as his eyes flashed with the words.

"At the same time." I directed my head at his neck, but he commanded, pulling my knees apart.

My teeth grew longer, and he shoved into me as they sank into him.

My friend, my heart, everything about me.