Page 44 of The Gamma's Second Chance

Frowning, I set the tray of food on the dresser and storm out of my room, rushing downstairs to the guest room.

There, curled up under the blankets on the bed, is Cassandra, her eyes closed and her breaths already falling into a steady, sleepy rhythm. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt on her body, lifting it closer to her nose to breathe in my scent as she relaxes. She’s so content and peaceful, a soft, drowsy smile on her face.

But she’s in the wrong fucking bed. She should be in my bed. Like hell am I letting her stay in here. Alone.

I stalk to her bed and remove the covers from her, and her eyelids flutter as I scoop her into my arms and against my chest. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“I got in bed, like you told me to,” she says, her voice already thick with sleep.

I shake my head at her, my brow furrowing, and I grip her tighter to my body as I leave the guest room. “Did you really think after everything we just did together that I would let you sleep anywhere other than in my bed with me?”

She blinks her eyes open and stares at me, then she smiles as her arms slide around my neck and her head cocks to the side. “I thought daisies weren’t allowed in your room?”

“I’ve changed my mind.” She laughs, her eyes lighting up the way they always do when she smiles. As I climb the stairs with her in my arms, she tightens her grip on my neck, and I smiledown at her, my own deep, resonant laugh echoing off the walls of the stairwell. “Daisies aren’t so bad after all.”

Chapter 16

NOLAN

Sunlight streams into mybedroom, and the clock on my nightstand reads a little after ten a.m. The latest I’ve slept in seven years. Usually I wake at six—or even earlier—without an alarm, and I’m out of bed and out the door for my run within fifteen minutes of waking.

But this morning, I’m more rested than I ever remember being, and I’m content to stay in my bed and be lazy.

Because this morning, I have Cassandra with me.

She lies on her side, her body stretched out next to mine, her arm draped across my chest, and her hand covering my heart. Her head rests on my shoulder, and our legs tangle together beneath the sheets of my bed. I comb my fingers through the loose, wavy strands of her hair, and my other hand roams her body, coasting over her bare lower half—still naked from yesterday—up to her neck and back down to her upper thighs in long, unhurried, uninterrupted strokes. She snoozes away in my arms, also unbothered by the late morning hour, her body getting the rest it so desperately needs.

After I brought her to my room yesterday, we spent the remainder of the day in my bed. She ate the snack I made for her, and then she slept—at my insistence—wrapped in my arms for much of her slumber. She woke only a few times, briefly, further proof I was right, and she needed more rest than she thought she did.

I won’t tell her that, though. I know better.

My hand climbs her body again, and my fingers skim over her neck, tracing across the soft, thin skin there as I think about yesterday, when I dragged my teeth along the same spot, implying the act of marking.

It wasn’t because I wanted to mark her or felt the urge or need from my wolf to claim her. My canines weren’t even out. But the neck, especially the spot where we place our marks, is extra sensitive for us. The act of scraping one’s teeth over the skin there—even without our fangs out—isn’t something done during a casual hookup. Not because it’s taboo, but because it signifies something so deep and symbolic to us. It’s almost like a promise.

And I’m not sure how to feel about that. Or how she feels about it. But unless she brings it up first, I won’t say anything about it.Not yet anyway. Not until I’ve had time to digest and process the implications.

Cassandra adjusts her position in her sleep, arching against me and pressing her body harder into mine. Her movements tug the bedsheets down her legs, and my shirt she wears rides up higher until both expose her lower half to me.

Her cute little butt comes into view, and I pull the sheets down more, inch by inch with my foot, until all of her gorgeous long legs are visible. She shivers from the unexpected chill and tries to get closer to me, hooking her leg up higher and, in the process, spreading her thighs further apart.

I groan and bite my knuckles. I can’t see her pretty pussy, but I can feel it through my shorts. And I can smell the slightest hint of arousal wafting towards me from between her legs. My dick twitches, growing harder than it already was from me waking with her so close to me and in my arms, as her wildflower scent fills my nose.

Resisting her for the rest of the day yesterday was difficult, but because I knew she needed the rest more than I needed to get my dick wet, I held back. But fuck, I don’t know if I can resist her any longer. She’s such a tempting little thing, and I am a male starved.

“What are you thinking about?”

I blink and remove my fist from between my teeth, tilting my head down towards a groggy Cassandra. Immediately, I cup her cheek and lower my mouth to hers, giving her a good morning kiss. I make it quick, pulling back almost as soon as I initiate the kiss. But she follows me, her hand gliding up my neck to my jaw and holding me in place as she deepens our kiss.

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” she says again, her voice raspy from sleep. Her fingers curl and stroke my jawline, scratching through the short, stubbly facial hair there.

“You, of course,” I say, kissing her nose.

She smiles. “And?”

My hand coasts down her body to her ass, and I squeeze it, making her hips roll. “And this.” My hand roams around further, between her legs and to her pussy. It’s already wet, and she opens her legs more for me, without me prompting her, like a good fucking girl. “And this,” I say, dipping the tip of my finger inside her. “Mostly this, actually.”

“Mmm,” is all she says in reply, her eyes closed again and her pulse thrumming in her throat.

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