Page 29 of Pack to the Wall

An odd, strangled sound came from the other side of the room and I paused as I looked over at Bronn. In the gloom of the room, I couldn’t see too much, but I could make out his wide eyes, the whites clear against his dark skin, his pupils dilated. I also made out the slight shift in his stance. I knew that movement: men trying to adjust themselves without using their hands. And wow, did he have something to adjust, the bulge in his jeans was massive.

And there I was, naked, staring at him.

Suddenly I feltveryseen. Heat rushed through me, the awkward, embarrassed kind, as I turned away from Bronn. The trouble was, I’d laid my clothes out on the bed behind me.

I reached back, blind, patting the sheets until I found my panties, they needed to be first. As I slid them on, I found words slipping from my lips before I even knew what I was asking. “I thought you said being naked and seeing others naked doesn’t bother you.”

He cleared his throat, awkward, a little too loud. “Usually doesn’t,” he said, voice a little strained still.

Which meant it was me…just me.

Somehow, forty-four-year-old me, with my slightly sagging tits and stretch marks, heavy hips and thick thighs was turning him on… where other women didn’t. I had no clue what to make of that.

It’s because I’m new,I told myself.He’s used to seeing the women around him naked, even if they are younger and prettier. But he hasn’t seen me naked before, so… I’m just different and somehow, that’s arousing for him.

Sure, yeah, that made sense. Why else would a man in his prime — Tyson had said he was thirty — look at an older woman like me like that?

I finished my awkward dressing, finding the other clothes and putting them on before turning around again.

Oddly, he still looked uncomfortable, eyes still wide.

Again, words tumbled out before I thought about them. “Do you think I’m pretty?” I asked. Some part of me had to know why he’d reacted like that.

“Yes,” he said without any hesitation. “It’s also your…” He stopped himself, clearly uncertain what to say. “I… I…” He stammered for a moment. “Ah… we shifters have enhanced senses and…” He swallowed. “You look amazing, dressed or not,” he said, finally finding words. “But your scent is… intoxicating.”

My scent?

“What do I smell like?” I asked. Though as soon as I did, I regretted it. I probably smelled like sweat and fear and sex. But he answered before I could take back my question.

“Spring,” he said quickly. “Like a spring morning, dewy grass and the warm sun on exposed skin.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that at all.

He swallowed hard again. I could see his eyes dilating as he spoke, proof of his stimulation. “And right now, you smell like a summer’s rainfall. The sweet scent of sun-warmed grasses after a storm.” He was shifting again, clearly uncomfortable.

“What?” I asked. There was something he wasn’t saying.

“You’re… aroused.”

I froze.

Aroused?

All the metaphoricalhotanddampconditions he’d described made a lot more sense:summer’s rainfall… after a storm…

He sighed heavily. “I’ve made you uncomfortable.” His gaze fell to the floor and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to talking to an alpha, to a woman, to anyone.” A sharp pain filled his words.

Suddenly, all the awkwardness I’d felt about being naked and smelling of… whatever, was gone.

“Why?” I asked as I sat on my bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to my chest, curling my legs under me.

For a long time, Bronn didn’t say anything. He was a study in opposites: sturdy and strong on the outside, but clearly fragile and broken on the inside, forward but awkward, knowledgeable of some things, but ignorant of others.

When he did look up again, the pain written clearly on his features broke my heart. Unlike Tyson and Colt, Bronn’s face was more rounded, full lips and cheeks, a strong nose, even the fact that he was shaved bald gave him a softer appearance. But there were scars on his face, physical ones long healed, and now his emotional ones were showing as well.

The mother in me, the part that had spent sixteen years caring and tending and soothing, took over.

“You can tell me,” I whispered.

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