Page 67 of The Gamma's Second Chance

I hop from the bed and throw a pair of sweats on, then race downstairs to the kitchen. Our dishes from this morning are still on the table, abandoned in our rush to get out the door when Wesley arrived. I gather them up and bring them to the sink, hoping the simple task will keep me from spiraling too hard and too fast.

I scrub the dishes, ensuring no surface is left dirty, removing every bit of grime and food there may or may not be on them. The water is scalding hot, leaving my skin raw, but I clench my teeth and power through.

The mundane activity does nothing to take my mind off everything, though. Instead, the mindlessness causes things to fester further.

The mug in my hands tumbles into the sink, and I grip the edge, my chin against my chest. I count to ten, inhaling and exhaling, before I push off from the counter and charge back up the stairs and straight into the bedroom.

This is stupid. I need a distraction, yes, but I need to be with her more. We don’t need to talk about any of it, but my place is at her side.

I strip off my sweats as I walk to the bathroom, leaving them in a pile somewhere in the middle of my room. I nudge the door open and stand framed in the doorway, taking in the breathtaking sight before me.

Cassandra stands under the showerhead, her back to me. Steam billows around her, framing her gorgeous body and her subtle curves. Her damp hair hangs down her back, almost reaching the top of her butt. She lets the water flow down her neck and her chest, her chin tilted towards the ceiling, and her arms wrapped around her stomach. Her skin gleams from the water droplets, catching the light and scattering it across the bathroom. She does nothing, but she captures my attention and holds it in the palm of her hand.

I slip around the opening of the walk-in shower, sliding up behind her. I wrap my arms around her and hook my chin over her shoulder, lacing my fingers with hers as I bring my lips to her neck. A sigh of contentment escapes her, and she relaxes into my chest, bringing our bodies flush together. Skin against skin, I embrace her with all I have, savoring the feel of her in my arms and sending all my deep affection to her, even though she can’t feel it. Her fresh and pure daisy scent permeates my soul, and the kisses I give her tell her everything my words can’t.

Her face turns to mine and our lips meet in a kiss that’s slow and sweet and exactly what the two of us need right now. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand,” she says as she leans away to look up at me.

My nose brushes hers. “It’s fine.”

She shakes her head and spins in my arms, draping hers around my neck. “It’s not. I completely blindsided you. I—”

“Cassandra.” I cover her lips with my finger, putting a stop to her protests, and my arm winds around her waist. “It’s fine. I’m not mad. Shocked? Yes. Mad? No.”

“Are you sure?” she asks as my finger leaves her lips, and I grip her jaw, holding her face still.

I stroke her chin with my thumb, my gaze unwavering and my voice steady, becoming the strength she needs, being the indomitable rock in the storm of emotions raging within her. “You were protecting yourself and your family. I can understand and respect that.”

“I thought Alpha Benjamin should know first.”

I wet my lips and shake my head at her, yanking her tighter against my body. “I didn’t come in here to make you keep talking to me. I came in here so you didn’t have to be alone with your pain.”

Her green eyes shine with liquid, an echo of the water shining on our skin and falling in rivulets between us. I caress her body under the stream of steaming water, soothing away the lingering tension she holds in her muscles. The droplets cascading down her chest tempt me to lower my eyes and watch their path between and across her breasts, but I keep my eyes on hers instead.

This moment isn’t about satisfying my ever-growing need for her in a moment of speedy release. She needs me. She needs comfort and reassurance. And I’m the only one who can givethat to her. I want to be the one she turns to whenever she’s in distress.

“Have you washed your hair yet?” I ask, my fingers playing with the ends of her long tresses.

“Not yet. I’ve just been standing in the hot water,” she admits, her eyes darting to the side.

I don’t judge her. I can’t judge her. There are countless times I have done the same, especially in those first few months after Kimberly rejected me, in the hopes the hot water would erase the stain on my soul or the memories from my brain.

“Would you like me to wash it for you?” I ask, tracing her spine with my fingertips.

She nods, her arms tightening around me a fraction. I slide my hand around her neck and tip her head higher with my thumb on her jaw until the water once again drenches her hair from the roots to the ends. Her eyes shut, and her palms glide down my chest, pressing against it to balance herself as she gives in to my manipulations of her body.

When her hair is thoroughly soaked, I spin her by her shoulders and grab her shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into my hands and lathering it between my palms. Her hair is soft underneath my hands even when wet, and I massage the suds into her scalp, applying gentle pressure everywhere with my fingertips.

With each circular motion of my fingers, Cassandra’s body releases more tension, until she’s as soft as warm clay. Her hands reach behind her and caress the sides of my ass and thighs, her neck and chest arching.

I hold in a groan at the way her breasts push forward, presenting themselves to my gaze, and focus instead on the sweet connection I feel from her soft touches on my legs as she seeks reassurance from my presence and our intimacy. I step closer, pursuing that deeper intimacy as well, searching forsomething stronger than the desperate need to claim and to own her.

There’s something inexplicably remarkable about sharing this moment with her. It’s reminiscent of the quiet in the early mornings when I run up to the outcrop on the side of the mountain and watch the pack lands wake up—when the sky is pink, the air is crisp, and there are still drops of dew left on the fauna of the forest. She is becoming my solace, my eye in the storm of life.

She’s becoming my everything.

I swallow and brush her soapy hair to one side, bending to kiss her neck. I linger there, breathing in her scent and squeezing her shoulder. “You can rinse your hair,” I say, my lips moving against her skin, but I don’t leave her neck.

I can’t. I can’t bring myself to. The bare, exposed skin is too tempting. It beckons me, ensnaring my attention.

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