chapter 35

I scramble in the shower without another word, and through the open door watch as Dayne leans against the sink and crosses his arms over his chest, staring at me.

Not knowing what else to do, I stand there under the showerhead, fully dressed, getting soaked.

As the minutes tick on, I see less of his wolf in his eyes, and he doesn’t seem as angry as before.

Finally, he uncrosses his arms and stands from the sink. “Get out.”

I fumble to turn the shower off and start toward him, even though I’d run the other way if I could. But since there’s only one way out of the bathroom, and Dayne is standing in front of it, it’s pointless to even hope for escape.

What is it with Dayne trapping me in the shower?

“Strip,” he demands, the second my bare feet touch the shower mat, and my hands go to my jeans.

I’m shaking so much I find it impossible to undo my jean button, much less the zip.

And after a couple of minutes of me getting nowhere, and Dayne observing me, he steps forward, making every muscle in me tense as he quickly and efficiently strips my soaked tank top from me and unbuttons my jeans.

When he crouches down to peel the wet denim that feels glued on from my legs, I startle and my eyes, which were lowered to the ground, jerk up to his face.

With his hooded eyes and a blank expression on his face, yet again I struggle to work out what it is he thinks when he looks at me.

He never hides his rage and frustration from me, but everything else all other emotions, I touch my hand to my chest, not knowing what to do.

Just as efficiently as he dealt with my tank top, he tugs my jeans off, one leg at a time.

And then I’m standing naked, trembling in front of Dayne, who does nothing but gaze up at me in silence from his crouched position.

I start thinking about how my breasts aren't cute and perky like Savannah’s, how narrow my hips are, and all the other things wrong with me, shifting restlessly with embarrassment, feeling myself blushing the longer Dayne continues to stare at my body.

Eventually, I can’t take anymore and lift my arms to cover my breasts, which I’ve always felt made me look unbalanced with how much bigger they are than all the rest of me.

“Out of proportion,” a girl in my old pack used to love telling me.

The words haunt me now, as they always do whenever I catch sight of my naked body, or when I feel the weight of someone’s attention on my chest.

She’s right, I am out of proportion.

How can I be all boyish hips, and skinny-legged, yet have boobs that look like they should belong to someone else? Someone with curves, someone more feminine than I ever will be.

Except, almost as soon as I cover myself, Dayne is tugging my arms into my side again, never lifting his gaze.

Swallowing, I stare at the bathroom wall because I don’t know what else to do. And then, without warning, Dayne reaches up and cups my breasts with his large, warm hands, drawing my gaze back to his face again with a sharp indrawn breath.

I tense at his unexpected touch, not knowing what he intends to do next. Not that he seems to notice.

Slowly, he brushes the pads of his thumbs over my nipples as he strokes and massages my breasts until I feel a growing ache between my legs.

“Breathe,” he murmurs.

My breath whooshes out of me.

Once I’m back to breathing somewhat normally instead of just holding my breath, still not taking his eyes from my breasts, Dayne leans forward and draws a nipple into his mouth, suckling lightly.

Moaning, my hands go to his head as I throw my head back at how good it feels to have him tugging on my nipple. But when he uses the sharp edge of his teeth against my aching breasts…

I let my eyes drift closed when he moves his mouth to my neglected breast, and can’t stop myself from sagging against him when my knees weaken.

I didn’t think it was possible to climax from someone touching and kissing your breasts alone, but I know with utter certainty that if Dayne keeps using his mouth on me like this, it’s going to happen to me, and soon.

I lose track of time.

All that matters to me, all I care about is for Dayne to never stop what he’s doing. So, when he suddenly shifts back and rises, I tighten my hands in his hair in a frantic attempt to hold him there.

He looms over me.

With his hands on my hips the only thing holding me up, he backs up to the sink and then spins me so I’m facing the large oval mirror.

Through it our eyes lock.

He takes a step back and releases his hold on me to tug his shirt over his head. I grip the sink for balance.

At the sound of his zipper, and the sight of his muscled arms tensing as he shoves his pants down behind me, something I don’t see with my body blocking his, I gulp.

Everything in me goes tense as I wait for the first press of his body against mine.

When it comes, when he curls his arm around my front and tugs me back against him, nothing prepares me for how good it feels to have the heated length of his body flush against my damp skin.

It draws a deep sigh from me, and as I watch, his wolf is in his eyes again when I rub myself against him and his erection settles between my ass.

But the wolf is there for only a moment, and then it’s the man again, it’s Dayne’s ice-blues peering at me as one hand returns to play with my breast, and his other skims down my body.

When his fingers brush against my core, my breath catches at the dual pleasure and I start to close my eyes, all the better to soak it all up.

“Eyes on me.” Dayne’s voice is gruff, his eyes shifting from ice-blue to silver.

The longer he touches me, brushing the tight bundle of nerves that has me writhing, the wetter I’m getting until he slides first one finger, and then two fingers inside me, and I make a choked sound.

“Oh god,” I cry out, knowing I’m not going to last much longer. If he keeps thrusting his fingers inside me like this, I’m going to come apart.

I don’t know why, but alternating between watching his thumb brushing my sex as his fingers plunge in and out of me, and staring into his eyes while he fucks me with his fingers is making me hotter than I thought I could ever get.