Page 22 of The Dancer

“Don’t cry, Little Mate.” He tries to console me, his hand rubbing down my back as I burrow deeper into him, breathing in his scent.

“Elias,” I mumble.

My hands are working at his clothes, trying to get to his skin underneath, but he stops me, a concerned look marring his handsome features.

“You’re hurt, love.”

“I’m fine,” I bite back.

“You’ve been unconscious for two days,” he says, cupping my face. “You almost died.” I can feel his pain. His voice is broken as the words fall from his lips. “I thought I lost you.”

My lips meet his in a gentle kiss as I straddle his lap.

“I’m here. And so are you. Nothing else matters.”

Epilogue

Elias

Three Months Later

I rarely spend time at my office at Whychwood Industries anymore. I have something else, something better to live for now. Quinn has opened my eyes to everything I have missed in life.

I have hired capable managers to run the company in my stead, but some days I still need to be present for meetings. Today is one of those days.

After two hours of mind-numbing figures and contracts, I can finally escape to my office. There is nothing more I want than to return home to my mate, but I need to at least attempt to get some work done before giving in to the compulsion of Quinn. A knock on my door tells me that won’t be the case.

“Enter,” I call out without looking up. “Whatever you want, I don’t have time.”

I hear the lock engage before looking up. The vision before me has a smile creeping across my face.

“Should I leave?” Quinn teases. “Seeing as you are so very busy.”

The teasing note in her voice makes me chuckle. “I will never be too busy for you.”

Walking to my side, she pushes my chair back enough to slip between it and my desk. Sitting on the edge, she smiles demurely.

“I need to tell you something, and I didn’t want to wait.”

A low hum leaves me as I lay kisses along the side of her throat. “I’m all ears.”

My hands caress her breasts through the bright blue fabric of her sundress before I lower one of the straps down her shoulder, placing a kiss over my mating mark. A visible shiverworks its way through her, and I can’t help but nip at the skin.

“You’re distracting me,” she complains halfheartedly as I push the other strap lower as well.

“And you’re not wearing a bra,” I admonish, lightly biting her nipple.

“They hurt.”

“Your bras? I’ll get you new ones.”

I add it to my mental list. My mate has fantastic tits, and I don’t want everyone staring at them. A bra offers me minimal peace of mind.

“My breasts,” she replies.

Gently, I lift each globe, testing its weight in my palm before softly laving the nipple. Her back bows at the slightest touch. She has always been responsive, but this is off the charts.

“Elias,” she moans my name as the scent of her arousal floods my office.

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