Chosen One (Forever Evermore #6)(90)
Fingers slowly releasing the bedspread, my body went slack under his, utterly sated as my heart rate slowly started coming down, the beat less heavy against my chest, feeling damn sleepy, ready for a nap now—a long one.
“Come on,” he rumbled softly, bending the barest bit to dip his head, brushing his nose gently across my temple. “We need to get cleaned up.” He rose slowly, gently running his hands on my bare hips as he slowly pulled his semi-hard cock from me, eliciting another groan from me, and his tone was gentle and coaxing. “Let’s go…get up.”
“Ugh…don’t want to,” I waved a hand, “go without me.”
“While that would interesting, it wouldn’t be very effective for why we’re here at the Temple in the first place.” He chuckled quietly, sliding a warm arm under my stomach, slowly lifting me against his back. “You’ll need to change your skirt. My cum’s all over you and it.”
“I’ve got more.” I waved a hand as he held me against his chest, but was making us move toward the bathroom, his belt buckle jiggling, pants still open, my head tilting back on his chest as my feet grudgingly moved. “Roselle gave me lots.” I twirled a finger, saying tiredly, “Yay!”
He hummed quietly. “I can’t say that’s a bad thing.” Maneuvering us through the doorway of the bathroom, he tilted once inside, turning the shower on and started undoing the tie around my breasts. “Don’t get your hair wet. That’ll be too obvious. And you’ve got, maybe, five minutes before they start knocking for us to leave.”
“Mmm.” I stretched my arms over my head, my muscles relaxed and tired. “Fine, fine. I’ll hurry.”
He draped my scrap of a top over the toilet while I took the skirt off, stuffing it in the laundry basket, and grabbed a washcloth, stepping into the shower, pulling the curtain shut a bit, being careful not to get my hair wet, but I saw his hand reach for his own washcloth before he started cleaning himself off—a Shifter, Brann, would smell sex on him…but no animal scent—at the sink, and he asked casually over the shower’s spray, voice gravelly, while I scrubbed my skin furiously with the lavender soap, “So…what did your mate,”
“My One, not my mate.”
“—what did he say to you through your bond at breakfast that had you looking at him like that?”
Ah. My lips pinched as I debated my choices. Some things were…private, while other things had been obvious. “I’d rather not say. He is a man, and I imagine he wouldn’t like his private thoughts voiced, and I respect that. But I will tell you,” I cleared my throat, not sure where we stood, but it felt like I should tell him, “I promised him I’d sleep in his bed tonight.”
Instantly, I felt a flare of Shifter magic, wild and animal, as his wolf growled loudly, and he yanked the curtain back, navy blue eyes narrowed, rumbling, “You’re doing what?”
“I promised him I would sleep in his bed tonight.” Oh…another flare of furious magic…and an expression that would have definitely told me he was violent without any added flare ups. I kept scrubbing, pretending I didn’t notice. “I’m not going to sleep-sleep with him. I’m just going to comfort him. Give him the connection he needs right now.”
His nostrils flared with a heavy inhale. “You do realize you just fell for the oldest trick in the damn book men use to get into a woman’s pants?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Sympathy.” His tone was growly, but he wasn’t yelling…yet. “If he asked you to sleep in his bed with him because he needs comfort, he will undoubtedly try to fuck you while you’re holding him.”
I snorted. “No, that wasn’t what he did.” My brows slowly scrunched as I washed my stomach. “I don’t think so, anyway…” More scrubbing. “He’d better not have used my fondness for him like that…” Scrubbing my right leg, I felt a shot of anger I might have been one-upped by him. “If he tries anything, I’ll slap him silly.”
He grunted, and left the curtain open as he turned to the sink, his wolf growling quietly while he finished cleaning off. “I don’t like it.” He resituated himself in his black boxer briefs before grabbing a spare toothbrush out the drawer, lathering it with toothpaste and started scrubbing his teeth—which, belatedly, I realized was damn smart. He flicked me a glare. “He will try to touch you.”
Rinsing off as he spat, then starting to wash his face, I asked carefully, “Does that mean you’re putting some kind of claim on me?” My heart was in my throat with nervousness, and I undoubtedly still hated him…but possibly with the option of forgiveness in the far future…and not minding so much if he did want to “claim” me, riding an utter hate-your-fucking-guts-but-can’t-get-enough-of-you roller coaster pull to this man. I washed my arm off, studying my work…my shit sorting a bit in my mind…but it didn’t mean he felt the same. “Like…being exclusive, or something?”
I peeked over when he didn’t instantly answer. He was drying his face off slowly, staring at himself in the mirror, his expression stony and guarded. Gradually, he lowered the towel, placing his hands on either side of the sink, staring down into it, his posture stiff, but his voice was steady when he asked, “Is that something you would like?”