Page 166 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

His fingers drew lazy strokes on my neck and shoulder, tracing lines down my chest and then back up again. I opened my eyes to see him touching my scars, his eyes on them, but his stare was vacant, as if his mind were somewhere else.

Desperate to change the subject, I asked, “Do you hate them?”

His eyes lifted to mine, and he shook his head. “No, I don’t hate them. I hate that you have them. I hate how you got them. They remind me of how I failed you.”

I put my hand on his cheek, and he closed his eyes at my touch. “No, they’re a reminder of what we could have lost. What we have to fight for,” I said.

The tension in his face softened. He lifted his hand to cover mine, and he turned his head to kiss my palm. “And they’re a reminder of how strong my mate is. How she’s even stronger than me sometimes,” he whispered into my hand.

“I’m not strong. Not compared to you and the other werewolves in your pack.”

“Strength isn’t just physical, Haven. And you are strong. Even after everything you’ve faced, everything you’ve been through, you’re still you. You’re still Haven. And that takes strength, strength most of us don’t have.”

My eyes itched as he spoke, my lip quivering as I held everything in. I cupped his face with my other hand, then leaned forward and kissed him. Our lips met with slow movements, both of us savoring the feel and taste of each other.

But what started as slow and sweet rapidly dissolved into fast and frenzied, our naked bodies moving closer with each passing second. Wesley grew harder again underneath me, and I slid my lower lips along his length.

With a growl, he lifted me and turned us in one swift movement, lowering me to the cool floor. I inhaled through my nose at the sudden cold against my skin, and Wesley settled himself over me and between my legs, his mouth never leaving mine.

Another growl echoed through the room, and it took me longer than I should admit to realize it wasn’t a growl from Wesley but a growl from me. From my stomach.

Wesley pulled back and looked down at my stomach, then cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you had pizza?”

I nodded. “We did,” I said. “For lunch,” I added, my voice barely a whisper.

Wesley sighed and dipped his chin down, his shoulders shaking with a silent laugh. My cheeks heated, and I blurted out, “I’m sorry! I was being petty! As soon as I saw you had made me grilled cheese and tomato soup, I just wanted to jump on you and kiss you for even remembering that it’s my favorite meal.”

“I threw those sandwiches away,” he chuckled.

“I know.” I pouted.

“I can make more?” he offered, and I nodded. “Okay,” he said with a smile. Then he ducked his head down, kissed my stomach, and said, “All right, let’s get some food in you.”

He stood from the floor and pulled me up with him, his hands settling on my hips and caressing me. “There are some of your things in the other bedroom,” he said. “Reid went and got them from your apartment earlier. I put them in the other bedroom because I didn’t want to just assume you would stay in my room with me since you were mad at me. I wasn’t even sure you’d want to stay here at all, but I was hoping you would so—”

“Our room,” I corrected, cutting his rambling off.

“What?”

“You said ‘my room,’ but if I’m your mate, then it’s our room.”

His eyes darkened, and his grip on me tightened. “Goddess, you really are perfect for me,” he muttered, then bent down to kiss me. “Now, go get dressed before I forget about feeding you and ravish your body instead,” he said, turning me and pushing me towards the door, his hand giving a light swat to my ass.

I walked out of the room, peeking back at him as he slipped his sweatpants back on. “Was that supposed to be a threat?” I asked, batting my lashes.

His head snapped towards me, his eyes darkening even further but with a subtle glint of laughter. He took a step towards me, a teasing growl escaping his lips. I squeaked and ran to the bedroom where he said he’d put my stuff, his laughter following me and echoing through his house.

No. Our house.

I entered the bedroom and spotted the backpack I always kept by the front door of our apartment. My backpack that had everything I might need if I had to leave anywhere on short notice. It was a habit, a habit from being moved around so much as a kid, but even twelve years later, it was a habit I couldn’t break myself of.

I snapped it up into my hands and left the room to go into our bedroom. There was no way I was going to sleep anywhere other than with Wesley, at his side and in his arms.

I went into the large walk-in closet and opened the bag. I laughed when I saw Reid had also grabbed Barry, the ballerina wolf, and my music box and shoved them inside with the rest of my things.

I quickly cleaned myself up and pulled on a pair of my underwear and a T-shirt from Wesley’s clothes, then set about organizing most of my things from my backpack in the closet and the room. I put the clothes on a shelf and hung on some hangers, my toiletries in the bathroom, and the music box and Barry on the nightstand next to the side of the bed I’d slept on both of the nights I’d stayed there so far.

I put my blanket back in my backpack, along with another of Wesley’s T-shirts, a pair of underwear, and some pants. I didn’t plan on leaving, but like I’d said, it was a habit I couldn’t quite shake.

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