Layla flattened her palms on Hunter’s chest. He was touching her again. She found she could almost keep a level head when there were a few feet between them, but when he made contact, she seemed to slide into a hypnotic trance of some sort. If the same thing was happening to her sister—as Hunter insisted—no wonder. “I worry about her. She’s more sensitive than me. If she really likes him, and he hurts her…”
Hunter shook his head. “Babe, I swear Caleb would never hurt her. He’s off somewhere doing his damndest to convince her she’s his, the same as I’m doing.”
She inhaled deeply. “You’re so blunt about it.”
He shrugged. “No need to pretend. It is what it is. I know you’re still processing, but I’ve told you almost everything there is to tell.”
“I feel like I have two hundred questions, but I don’t know what they are.” Her mind was racing. Her hormones were on overdrive. She’d never been so attracted to anyone in her life. What she really wanted to do was drag him up to her bedroom and find out if the sex between them would be as explosive as it was in her imagination.
Hell, considering how easily he’d gotten her off in the basement a few hours ago, she was more intrigued than ever about what sex with a shifter might be like. But this man was solid in his insistence that he wouldn’t sleep with her.
Hunter had worked his ass off all afternoon, moving boxes for her, going through them, sorting them into piles to sell, keep, or trash. There was no way she would have accomplished even half of that if he hadn’t shown up. Most likely, she wouldn’t have even come inside. She’d have spent the afternoon pulling weeds and avoiding the hard work.
Granted, the reason she’d gone outside in the first place had been to work off steam from how aggravated she’d been with him in the first place. Somehow, he’d managed to smooth things over with her, though she wasn’t sure if he’d done so with his words or his touch.
She patted his chest. “Here’s a question. Do shifters and their mates ever fight?”
He drew his brows in. “Of course they do. Why?”
She tipped her head to one side. “Because every time you touch me, you use your super powers to make me forget why I was mad.”
He smirked. “Are you mad now?”
“No. I was thinking of earlier when you first came over. I should be mad that you lied to us last night still. It was a bit deceptive. And now I’m not. I’m thinking every time I get pissed about something, you’ll just pull me into your damn arms, look into my soul, and convince me I’m wrong with your hypnosis or whatever.”
He chuckled.
“This isn’t funny,” she said, unable to include conviction in her voice.
“Sorry. It kinda is.”
She shoved at him, trying to free herself, just like she did every time she needed to clear her mind. His magnetism made it impossible to focus when he touched her. Dammit.
He held her tighter, backing her up until her ass hit the kitchen counter, trapping her in the circle of his arms. “How am I going to convince you I’m not controlling you. It’s not me. It’s Fate. She’s guiding me toward you same as She’s doing to you.”
Her heart rate picked up with the increased proximity and the way he held her. “And yet, I’d bet my last dollar, if I had one to my name, that if you let go of me, my head would clear, and I’d remember why I’m supposed to be skeptical.”
He nodded. “This is true. We do lose a connection when we’re not touching. It’s nearly painful as the hours go by. My constant instinct is to reach out to you. I’ve been fighting it all afternoon. However, and I cringe to tell you this…” He hesitated.
She grabbed his T-shirt and shook him, or tried to. He didn’t actually move a millimeter. “What?”
He sighed, fighting a grin. “You’re not wrong. When mated couples fight, the angry one will often jump out of the way to avoid contact. I’ve seen both men and women leap up from a table and take several steps backward so they could hold on to their mad.”
She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Regular humans do that too.”
He lifted a brow. “See? Skin to skin contact can soothe anyone. Not just shifters.”
“You’re probably right. At least partly. But this magnetism is still different.”
“I won’t deny that. Afterall, I knew you were mine before I even saw you jog into my line of vision.”
She shuddered. Would that concept ever get less weird? “How about you let go of me so we can eat, and then I have a request.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to see your wolf.” She wasn’t sure he would comply. Were there rules that said he couldn’t shift in front of her or something?
“I can do that.” He leaned in closer and kissed her gently before releasing her.
As he stepped back, she blinked a few times, slightly dizzy. “Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“Here?”
“Sure. Wherever you want.”
Now she wished she’d suggested he do so before they ate. Her curiosity went up ten notches.
Chapter 12
June 17, 1992
Dear Mabel,
I can’t believe your daughter is 16 today! Mom sent me pictures of her in her party dress when she tried it on last week. She’s so beautiful. I love her long blond hair. She looks so happy.
I wish I could be there to sing Happy Birthday to her. I understand you’ve planned quite the party. I wonder if she’s as mischievous as you and I were at that age! I’m thinking of the time you and I snuck out of the house during our junior year in high school because Edith Summerland was having a party while her parents were out of town. She’d invited William Townsend, and you had such a crush on him!
I still can’t believe we made it back in the house and Mom and Dad were never the wiser. I miss those times. We were so close. I never would have let you go to that party on your own. Why can’t you remember how much fun we used to have?
Missing you as usual.
Love, Marge
The lasagna was delicious. The company was even better. By the time Hunter had the last of the plates and silverware in the dishwasher, the sun was going down.
Layla had been mostly quiet while they ate, watching him. It had seemed like she was inside her head. He’d wanted to touch her a dozen times but had refrained, giving her space to think. She needed it, and it wouldn’t change anything.
Nothing would change anything. They could take this as slow as she needed. His cock would just have to simmer down and wait. The end result would be the same and just as sweet. Perhaps sweeter. No way was Hunter going to pressure Layla to sleep with him, nor was he going to let her demand it during one of her lust-filled moments of contact.
“You keep staring at me,” she murmured as she put the last pan back in the cabinet.
He leaned against the counter. “I could say the same about you.” He reached out a hand, hoping she would come to him. Let him touch her. He craved the contact like his next breath. Staring at her was fantastic too, but nothing came close to touching her. Not yet anyway. Not until he’d touched every inch of her with his lips and his tongue.