Page 68 of Wrestling With Werewolves

Even now, I clamp my thighs together remembering how fun it was to play while he was shifted.

“Sweetheart, my dick is gonna fall off if I don’t get a day to recover,” Richard says with a laugh from somewhere in the kitchen.

“I know,” I murmur, reaching up to pull at my curls. They’re an absolute disaster, like a bird nested on my head and came back several years in a row to redo that same nest. And the result is the mass of insanity matted to one side of my scalp. When one of the pieces I grab is crunchy, my nose scrunches.

Richard laughs from across the room, piling sandwiches on a tray. He rounds the island, fully nude, and stalks gracefully across the living room.

“There’s jizz in my hair,” I mutter. “And on pretty much every inch of me.”

He sets the sandwiches next to me and hands me a bottle of water. “I’m tapped out, sweetheart, or I’d offer you more.”

I snort out a laugh and down the water under his watchful gaze.

His eyes wrinkle in the corners as he eyes the absolute disaster of my curls. “Will you teach me how to do your hair?”

I cock my head to the side. “It’s a forty-step process, and it takes ages. I will, if you want to, but it’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

He stretches one arm over his chest and rubs at a muscle on the back of it; he must be sore. “I’m done sprinting for a day or two. Why don’t we shower, and then you can show me what to do with that glorious mop on the side of your head?”

Laughing, I sit up and slap his stomach playfully. He manages to grab one wrist and do some insane maneuver that flips me up onto his shoulder, face close to his bitable ass while he holds on to my thighs and turns for the shower. His fingers stroke lazily over my skin as I prop myself up with both hands on his lower back.

“Honestly, this is just making me want to tackle you, Alpha,” I admit into our bond.

“Same,” he murmurs aloud. “Fuck taking a break. Let’s sort your hair, and then I wanna wrap it in my hand and use it as leverage to fuck your ass.”

“Goddess.” I grin as he sets me down in the dark stone shower. This room is so sensual—every surface is dark stone, and moss is growing in nearly all the corners. It’s like he brought the outside into the treehouse.

“I did,” he whispers into the side of my head. “And I hoped one day I’d share this with someone. That we’d laugh and love and maybe build a family in this home. What do you think, Luna?”

“I think we’ve got some details to sort out,” I admit, “but that sounds perfect.”

The wolves roll upright and disappear from my mind. Richard jerks when they appear in his, roughhousing in a tired heap. Their play is half-hearted, and after two tumbles, they flop together and start snoring.

Richard grins at me. “This is so unusual, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. What a blessing, Lola, to have this with you.”

I gasp as he stares at me. “Goddess, Richard, your eyes…”

His smile drops. “What’s wrong?” He whips around to the mirror, but I join him so we can stare together.

“They used to be green when Big Daddy was focused,” I murmur. “Now they’re a swirl of our colors. Amber and green together.”

He stares hard. “Do you think that’s just because they’re with me right now?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I admit. “But when they come back to me, we can check.” Something occurs to me, and I stroke his chest softly. “Do you think we’ll ever have our wolves back by themselves, or will they always go together? And if they go together, would you still be able to shift?”

He laughs and reaches around me to turn the water on. “If you had to pick between going with me or going by yourself, which would you choose?”

“Point taken,” I say with a chuckle, stepping into the cold water. “I wish we could read the book Vikand gave you. I’d love to know more about what to expect. I guess we’ll figure it out as we go.”

Richard gives me a wry look. “According to Big Daddy, we can now. At least, he seems to think we’ll be able to. Not sure if that’s true, but if it is, we’ll document it in case this happens to anyone else.”

I pick my jaw up off the ground as Richard eyes the hot water handle.

“Cold shower sort of girl? That surprises me.”

I grimace. “Cold water is good for curls.”

His expression matches mine, but he steps into the chilly water and grabs the shampoo. “This first, I assume?”

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