Page 116 of Unwilling Wolf

The laces were hard to reach in the back, but she was giving it a go.

“Come here,” he rumbled, sitting on the sturdy bed. He gestured her closer with a twitch of his fingertips.

She hid her pleasure as she stood between his legs and faced away, pulled her hair to the side. The pattern in the floral wallpaper captured her attention as she felt his fingertips loosen the laces with ease. He pried the edges apart, and with a gentle touch, he brushed the puff sleeves off her shoulders.

She wore a thin, short-sleeved shift under the dress, and nothing more.

The thick fabric fell down past her hips and gathered at her ankles. The slippers were easy to slide out of, and she huffed a breath of relief as the breeze from the open window caressed her skin.

Slowly, she turned to Garret, and his eyes drank her in. She pressed the tips of her cool fingers onto her blazing cheeks.

“You still get shy?” he asked. “Even after what we did in those woods?”

“I daresay I will always feel a little shy around you in intimate moments.”

He cocked his head and studied her face. “But you can roast me on a dime and not have a second thought about it.”

“Banter is easy. Exposing oneself and choosing vulnerability is not so easy.”

“It’s scary, you mean?”

She nodded. “What’s to stop you from capturing my body and my heart completely, and then turning around and going cold on me?”

He frowned and ran his fingers up the hem of her white shift, brushing the smooth skin of her legs. “I think we’re moving past that.”

“You are still hot and cold sometimes. Sometimes I think your wolf requires that moodiness.” Eliza cupped his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. In a whisper, she asked, “Do you know how terrifying it is for me to give my heart to an unsure man?”

“I’m surer than you know,” he uttered.

She hiked her shift up and straddled his lap, reveled in the way his strong hands felt gripping her hips as he settled her over him. Eliza inhaled deeply, searching those bright, inhuman eyes of his. And then she leaned forward and hugged him, just to see if he would allow the intimacy.

He did.

Garret slid his arms tightly around her back, pulled her tight against his chest, and buried his face against her neck. “Terrifying woman,” he murmured against her skin.

“Me? Terrifying?”

“Before you, I wasn’t scared of anything. Every day was the same. Wake up, focus on the ranch, focus on the Pack, try to dig us out of the hole we were in. I was numb, Eliza. It’s easy for a numb man to lose himself in purpose just so he doesn’t have to deal with himself. And then you come along, and you call me on all my shit. And at first, I hated it. I hated it, Eliza. I hated…feeling. I hated second-guessing. I hated failing. I hated having someone see me. I hated changing.”

She eased back and cupped his cheeks. “You were already a good man, Garret. You’re just having to learn how to be a good husband. And I’m having to learn to be a good wife. Neither of us signed up for this. We were thrust into something we hadn’t expected, or even wanted. I didn’t come here to ruin your life—”

“I know—”

“Just listen. Let me say it. I didn’t come here to ruin your life, Garret. I only have fond memories of you, and I always was interested in where you ended up, but there wasn’t some big plan for me to come in and change you. I didn’t want to change either. I was free for the first time in my entire life, coming out here to find Roy. No one was telling me what to do, and then you came along, bossing me around and telling me I had to marry you, and I was mad at you too. For me, it felt like you were stealing my freedom, and I can see how it probably felt the same to you. But things are different now, in my heart. I don’t feel like you are stealing my freedom anymore.”

“What does it feel like?” he asked softly, gaze boring straight into her soul.

“Now, you feel like freedom.”

“Fuuuck, Eliza,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

For a moment, she thought he was angry or disappointed, but he pulled her in and took her all the way to the bed, holding her close to his chest. She could feel his heart drumming against her cheek. It was racing so fast, like Buck’s hooves in the stampede.

“I want to feel your skin,” she whispered.

Garret scooted back by inches and unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged out of it, and threw it onto the floor. He watched her as she ran her hands down his chest. He’d washed up, perhaps while she was up here readying for dinner earlier. All that remained was half-healed scars from the battles of the last few days.

She traced them gently, committing them to memory. Every scar on him, she loved. He bore those because she’d been in trouble.

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