Page 57 of Racing the Storm

That was almost too much for me to hear—too on the edge of the things we agreed not to talk about until we were home—so I stopped him. I curled my hand around his dick and let the soap guide me in a firm, slick stroke.

“Fuck, fuck,” he hissed out.

I sped up, letting my own cock brush against his thigh as he humped my hand. “Yes. Take it. Take what you want, my Omega.”

His eyes rolled back in his head a little as his body began to tremble. Dragging my free hand away from his nipple, I backed him up so he was braced against the wall, then I cupped his balls and rolled them in my hand. They were heavy and tight, and I knew he was about to spill.

“Give it to me,” I ordered.

And he did.

I wasn’t sure Danyal was a Wolf who often obeyed anyone, but he gave up his orgasm at my command, and that alone had me tumbling toward my own. He gripped me tight and pulled our bodies flush, and with a single roll of his hips, it was over.

It was nothing like the night before. My knot was the furthest thing from my mind, but it was enough. I spilled hot along his skin, and as I caught my breath, I looked down and watched the water take it toward the drain.

There was a moment after that, a sort of profound silence I was terrified to break. Then Danyal pulled away from me, grabbed the soap, and poured it into his hand. He met my gaze with something like purpose in his eyes, and he gently lifted his hands to my hair.

“You’re taller than I am,” he murmured.

I couldn’t help my laugh, though the sound was more tense than anything, and I bent at the knee just enough that he could scrub his fingers from the edge of my hairline, all the way to the back of my neck. If I thought the orgasm was heaven, then this was something else that far transcended it. Pleasure was fine, but this was a gesture of something like love, and it was equal parts terrifying and addicting.

“Don’t over-think,” he murmured gently. He used what was left of the suds to wash the grime, spring water, and come from the rest of my body. His nails scraped through the hair on my lower stomach, the heels of his palms dug into my muscles, kneading until I started to relax.

And when he pushed me under the spray, I let my eyes slip closed, trusting that he would take care of me.

It was new—it was entirely alien, and I was terrified of getting addicted.

“You have a tell,” he said quietly as he reached past me to turn the water off.

I shook my head, spraying him with water, and his laugh was a balm on my frayed nerves. “Yeah? What is it?”

He gave me a shove, and I almost tripped over the lip of the shower as I stumbled out and reached for one of the towels hanging on the back of the door. “Your heart, asshole.”

I turned my head and grinned at him. “Oh?”

He stalked toward me, still soaking wet, and backed me against the door. Stealing the hanging towel behind me, he pressed it between us, then leaned into my chest, laying two fingers to my pulse. “When you over-think, your pulse stutters. It’s like you’re trying to reboot.”

I scoffed, but before I could give him a smart-ass response and break the moment, he kissed me. It was slow, tender, almost painful, and I leaned into it like it was everything.

Because it was.

And I knew if he left me when we got home, I would be ruined.

“You’re doing it again,” he murmured against my lips. His fingers pressed harder against my pulse, and I felt it start to slow again.

“I’m afraid,” I confessed once I’d regained enough sense to speak. Pushing him back gently, I secured the towel around my waist, then took his from him and began to dry his limbs. It felt good to do this—simple, easy. He leaned into it like he was starved for the touch, and I realized he probably was.

Just like me, though it clearly affected him in a different way. His head tilted back when I scrubbed over his hair, and I couldn’t stop myself from taking a taste of his neck. “When we get back, and this all ends…”

“Mikael,” he said, and I forced myself to meet his gaze. He lifted a palm and touched my cheek. “I don’t know how the hell I’m going to feel when we get home. This has been so fucking much. But I can tell you that in spite of what I should do—which is never speak to you again, or at the very least, make you grovel for years—all I want is to keep you close.”

“Am I a monster for wanting to encourage that?” I asked.

He snorted a laugh and reached past me for the door handle, giving me a shove through when he opened it. “Maybe, but it is what it is.”

It felt wrong to steal from the people living here, but we found jogging bottoms and t-shirts in a drawer that fit comfortably enough, and I figured I’d leave them a handful of Euro to make up for it. I hated surrounding myself in human scent, but so long as I didn’t mark Danyal with my come again, we could slip by the humans unnoticed.

For a while, anyway.

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