Page 71 of Come for Me
Turning the showerhead on, I revel in the satisfaction from my win beaming inside me. Convincing myself what I did weren’t the actions of a dumb bitch but the work of a skilled... queen?
No, don’t start thinking that.
Mastermind—we’ll go with that. He shouldn’t have underestimated me.
Stepping into the shower, I wince as the scalding hot water kisses my skin, amping me up more.
If I proved my point to Dax I don’t need him, I only proved to myself that I do. After having him, no amount of masturbating could compare to the ecstasy he summons from my core. But I’ll never admit that to him. His ego would explode.
Massaging my scalp with the shampoo Dax fetched from my old home upon my arrival causes me to sigh. Behind me, I grab Dax’s bodywash and flick the lid open. Shamelessly, I lift the bottle to my nose, gently squeezing to unleash the spiced fragrance, and my insides quiver. I lather it over my skin, comforted that I smell like him. But guilt creeps in because I may have hurt Dax, causing my wolf to whimper and my heart to ache.
My thoughts wander to him hovering over me on our bed. Water streams down my curves, and my hand follows, my thighs widening as I touch myself, circling my clit. Our scents swirlamong the steam and combine in the sweetest combination as my need rises.
“Dax,” my moan sings with the soothing sounds of the shower.
Get ahold of yourself, Alaina.
Coming to my senses, I frantically try to wash off his stench, practically rubbing my skin off in the process. But it’s no use. So, I take my bodywash to cover up his spiced soap.
When my stuff arrived, I asked one of the maids what happened to my lavender soaps. Apparently, Dax ordered them to be thrown away and replaced with the black raspberry vanilla instead, saying that it “suits me better.”
Did I go too far?
I screamed a former lover’s name. Someone who had me, to whom I looked to give myself over multiple times. Scratch that, someone who Ihavegiven myself over to multiple times. But that was before I met Dax. Everyone has a past. Let’s not pretend the king of werewolves hasn’t fucked before.
The thought of him with another, however long ago, enrages me instantly. My argument starts fading. Olivia and Dax aren’t together, but I’d be naive to think they’ve never been before. If he had screamed Olivia’s name, what would I have done?
Leave. Run. Hate him. Kill her.
That’s when the anxiety comes in full force. The steam suffocates me, the heat quickly becoming unbearable. I turn the knob to the left and gasp as the cool water hits my body. Dropping my head back, I’m able to breathe again.
I calm my anxiety with the only evidence I have to support that he’s not leaving me,at least not yet.
I’ll see you soon, he said.
You’d think my intrusive thoughts would stop there. Big fucking nope.
What will he do when he comes for me? When will he come for me?
A slamming door breaks me from my thoughts. And like the water coming out of the shower head, my blood runs cold. A sudden eeriness lingers as I wait for footsteps that don’t come. Everything seems to shift and still besides my thudding heart against and the hissing shower. The water seems to roar louder than before to compete with the silence.
Goose bumps erupt along my body as I shiver under the cold instead of turn off the water, scared to make a move or a sound. There’s no curtain, so the figure that I’ve convinced myself is behind me would have a nice view of my ass right about now.
My cheek meets the stone wall, and my hand is pinned behind me. I gasp at the sudden contact. Sparks from his touch are a welcome contrast to the freezing water.
He’s come for me.
His aura is dangerous, threatening, promising ruin. And I know he’ll forgive me but not before he makes certain I’m sorry.
His grip is sure to leave a bruise, claws protruding and breaking the skin around my wrist. The faint smell of blood mixes with the bodywash’s.
Dax is still in his clothes, which are drenched and sticking to his chiseled muscles. The ridges and hills of his abs show through the translucent article. Veins in his neck and forehead pop out to witness my demise. Water droplets dangle from strands of hair and the tip of his nose.
His eyes are flickering from gold to their normal eye color as his control wavers.
And I know whether his eyes choose to show calm or storm depends on my answer to his question.
“You think you can take care of yourself better than I can?” He vibrates into my skin, voice is husky and low, like he’d just woken up.
