Page 150 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

I wanted to stay there, to sink further into Wesley’s body and take refuge in the safe harbor that was his presence. But his warmth, the tingles from his touch, and the overpowering scent of his cologne muddled my thoughts and toyed with my resolve to yell at him. And I needed to speak my piece. To give him hell.

With newfound determination, I lifted his arm off my body and sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed so I could use the restroom. Almost instantly, I felt empty and cold and alone, as if something connected his touch and presence to my moods.

Which was preposterous.

While in the bathroom, I avoided my reflection. I didn’t need a mirror to tell me how awful I looked. I could feel it. Feel the dirt and dried blood on my body, and see the dried blood splattered on the ends of my hair that had been removed from its high ponytail at some point. It would need to be washed, but I knew the doctor needed to clear me for that first.

“Haven?” Wesley called from his bedroom, and I felt a flutter of fear and confusion that wasn’t my own, there and then gone again as quick as a wink.

“I’m in the bathroom,” I called back, shaking off the remnants of the weird emotions that weren’t my own.

“Are you all right?”

I rolled my eyes but bit back my sass. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.”

I stood in front of the door and shut my eyes as I readied myself. I needed to stand strong. Firm. I couldn’t let his chocolate brown eyes or his handsome face sway me.

I opened the door to find him pacing at the foot of the bed, his thumbnail between his teeth. His sweatpants were slung low across his hips, showing off all the lines and muscles of his abdomen. The muscles I had run my hands over and felt pressed against me as he made love to me over and over that night we had shared.

I had to tear my eyes away because that was a trap I could fall into all too easily.

His head swiveled to me, and I almost softened again at the dark circles under his eyes, showing how much sleep he had lost because he was worried about me. His hair was messy from the bed and from his hands running through it.

And he was still sexy as sin, even in his exhaustion.

He froze in place, and I stared at him, stuck and unsure what to do or say next. Everything I planned on telling him, every word I had rehearsed, felt inadequate. How could I ever make him understand what he had yet again done to me by ignoring me?

“Could you get me some pants?” I asked, tugging at the hem of his T-shirt.

I looked down at the floor as I cursed myself. Could you get me some pants? Really? That’s what my mouth decided to say?

“Yeah, I’ll—I’ll grab some of Maddie’s,” he muttered, blowing out a breath and rushing out of the room.

I released my own sigh and rubbed at my forehead, walking back to the bed and climbing under the fluffy blankets. I’d still put the pants on, but the comfort and warmth of Wesley’s bed were like a safety net for me. And I was still sore and tired and feeling weak.

Wes came back with an armful of jeans, pajama pants, and leggings and placed them on the bed near me.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of pants you wanted, so I brought all of them,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

I gave him a halfhearted smile and grabbed the leggings, slipping them on while still keeping my body covered with his white comforter. He returned the smile, then moved the clothes to his dresser, stacking them on top of it before turning to look at me again.

Our eyes locked together, and all the fight went out of me again. I was just—empty. And tired. So, so tired.

“I think I’m going to sleep some more,” I whispered, my lip quivering without my permission.

I leaned back against the pillows and pulled the comforter up. I tucked it under my chin and closed my eyes so I could go back to sleep and not have to think about any of the events of the week.

But Wesley had other plans. “Haven, I really think we should—”

Thankfully, the doorbell cut him off. I heard him growl and mutter something under his breath, and I bit back my laugh as he left the room.

I was mad at him, sure, but it was hilarious that when he tried to insist on having a conversation I wasn’t ready to have, something interrupted him. And now that I knew the truth about what he was, his growling just made me laugh.

“Dr. Russo is here to check on you,” he grumbled, and I turned to find him scowling in the doorway, not pleased with the disruption.

I sat up again as Dr. Russo entered, his smiling face reminiscent of his daughter’s. Or, I assumed, his daughter since they shared a last name.

“Nice to see you awake, Luna,” he said, nodding his head at me.

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