Page 182 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

“Wes!” she cried, squirming and pushing at my arms. “You’re all sweaty!”

“So are you,” I muttered against her skin, making goosebumps appear, and her little hairs stand on end.

“Couldn’t you have showered before coming home?”

“I could have,” I agreed, kissing her shoulder. “But then I wouldn’t be able to put my scent on you. Or shower with you.”

She shuddered and made a little noise in her throat at that suggestion. My fingertips traced little circles into her abdomen. “Please tell me you wore more clothes than this today?”

“I took my shirt off because I got warm. No one else saw me like this,” she said, reaching up and patting my cheek. “But you’re cute when you get all jealous.”

“I’m not cute.” I frowned.

“Okay, Pal. If you say so.,” She smirked.

I gripped her waist and spun her around to face me, pulling her hips flush against mine. “I’m a lycan, Haven. Lycans are strong and fierce. Not ‘cute.’”

“I don’t know,” she mused, her hands playing with my hair. My eyes closed at her touches, her fingers gentle and soothing against my scalp. “Now that I’ve had time to think about it, you were pretty cute when you were a lycan.”

I tried to growl at her, but the image in my mind of my lycan sitting up straighter at her compliment had me laughing instead.

My fingers dug into her hips as I lowered my mouth to hers for a kiss. But she leaned away from me, catching me by surprise and slipping out of my arms with a fancy little twirl.

“I need to practice a bit more,” she said at my scowl. “Then we can shower and canoodle all you want,” she added as she blew me a kiss.

“Fine,” I agreed. “But only because I enjoy watching you dance.” I winked.

She moved back to the center of the room and started practicing again, and I stood back to watch her. Her legs stretched and tightened as she pointed her feet and stepped up onto her toes, and her arms floated in the air as she danced.

She may have been small—or at least smaller than most she-wolves—but her stage presence and the way she moved her body made up for her stature. A focused yet serene expression graced her face, and anyone who watched her could see how much she loved what she did. She was breathtaking to watch.

I walked around the room, one eye still watching her and the other looking at the pictures I’d hung up in her space. I paused in front of one—an image of her dancing with Ramón in a rehearsal—and I got an idea.

“Haven,” I said, turning to her again.

“Hmm?” she hummed, not breaking her concentration or her rhythm.

“Can I help you practice?”

Her steps faltered at that, her arms dropping and her brows furrowing as she turned to glance at me. “How are you going to help me?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

“Well,” I began, glancing back at the photo. “You could teach me some lifts?” I supplied lamely, jerking my thumb over my shoulder at the photo.

Her lips twitched, and she crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. “You want to do ballet lifts with me?”

I nodded. It was a lame excuse, but it would get me close to her, let me get my hands on her, and she could also still practice. It would be the best of both.

“All right,” she said after a moment. “But it’s not as easy as it looks,” she warned.

“Haven. I’m a lycan.”

“Last I checked, lycan and ballet dancer were not the same thing,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, get over here,” she laughed, waving me towards her.

Even after all the laps I had run that day, I sprinted the three steps to her, moving right into her space. I wanted to put my arms around her and just throw her over my shoulder and take her to the bedroom, but I clenched my fists and took a deep breath to focus on my ballet lesson.

“Okay, so, first, I’m going to teach you the fish lift,” she said.

“Fish?”

---