Page 50 of Shifters Reckoning

“Uhm… Could’ve come to see me.”

“Somebody had to build the fence.” He got his hand in my hair, tipped my head back, and scrutinized me. The smug alpha mask had dropped away, and something rawer shone beneath. “You have no idea. Every night that bond turned terrified, I stood at that window and…” He stopped. When he started over, his voice was rougher. “Don’t leave the door open when you sleep. I can feel you dreaming him, and I can’t get in there to fight it. To protect you.”

“I’m here,” I said. “I’ve opened the door, Logan. All the way. I want you in there while you’re in here.” I tapped my head.

I felt his control crack like a dam giving way. His hunger filtered into me; my relief seeped into him, a week of held breath finally let go all at once.

He lifted me off my feet, high enough that we were eye level with one another. I wrapped my legs around him, stroking his dick with the seam between my legs. He moaned.

Every word he wasn’t saying poured across our connection instead: mine, home, missed you, mine, God, Emma, mine.

I pressed kisses to his neck, up and down, devouring each inch, tasting his salty skin. Working my hips brought us torturously almost together. “Logan,” I whimpered.

Then I found his mouth and circled his tongue with mine. The floor creaked as we moved across our bedroom, and I glanced over my shoulder.

The bed had been made. Some shifter—not likely Logan—had made our bed while he was busy and I was gone. They’d tucked the corners. For half a second, I found it humorous. Then Logan eased me down on the luscious comforter and followed me onto the mattress, and nothing was funny at all.

He took his time. That was the thing about Logan that undid me every single time. For all the growling, for all the alpha, when it came down to it, he touched me like I was the last good thing in a burning world. Slow hands. Leisurely mouth.

He mapped his way down me like he’d forgotten the terrain in a week and meant to relearn every cell, the curve of my hip where the rainbow tattoo lived, the soft of my belly, lower, until my back arched off the cover and my hands fisted in his hair, and I stopped being able to tell my thoughts from his.

There, he sent when I gasped. Right there. I remember.

Through our link, I felt him feel my pleasure looping into his, doubling, his satisfaction feeding back into me exponentially until the two of us were a closed circuit with no ground and nowhere for the current to go but up.

“Logan,” I rasped, trembling. “I swear if you make me wait⁠—”

“You’ll what?” His grin shaped his tone. “Cheat?”

“I’ll take what’s mine.”

He laughed.

Then I groped until I got a hold of his shoulders, flipped us with a strength that surprised us both, and straddled him.

The last of the evening light poured in through the westerly window. His view of me slipped into my mind. My rainbow hair fell around my shoulders like a feral aurora.

So sexy, Emma. His hands came to my hips, gripping, and his eyes blazed up at me. “That’s my girl,” he breathed, reverent as a prayer. “Take it. Take everything.”

I splayed my hands on his pecs and tucked my knees on either side of him. Rocking my hips back and forth, I moved against his hardness, twisting until he slipped into me with his own thrust. Fuck, yes, Logan, yes.

He pressed his head into the pillow beneath him and gritted his teeth.

My mouth twisted in a smile, and I brought my hips down on him hard.

It’s been a week, Emma… His warning pleased me. Missed you so much.

A week for me to plan how to make you lose control. Another hard thrust.

He howled in my mind.

But I didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

We found the rhythm we always found, the one that seemed older than either of us. The earth’s heartbeat rose through the manor, the mattress, and the bones of us.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

He let me set the pace exactly long enough to lose himself to it. His wolf came up in him, and he grasped my hips and rolled me under him again. I’m going to show you every way I’ve wanted you since you’ve been gone.