Page 41 of Daddy's Mail Order Mate

“You'll want to strip down as well. Feeling everything on your bare skin will help you feel more in tune with nature, and any pain or discomfort might help motivate your body to want to change.”

“That and I'd rather not ruin any of my clothes; I don't exactly have a disposable wardrobe right now,” I deadpan.

Thorn huffs in amusement and starts unbuttoning his shirt, and I remember that I should look away when I start to see the the line of his sternum sneaking down from well defined pectorals.

“That's one thing that's a bit of culture shock after being away from wolves for so long.”

He hums in question.

“How normalized nudity is. For human culture, outside of certain, uh, circles, it's not exactly normal to regularly see most everybody you know naked.”

There's a mild grunt in response.

My cheeks burn a bit as I start to slip off my backpack and jacket as well. I consider if I'm willing to sacrifice my underwear in the name of science just to give myself some decency, but…

Fuck it. Let him see. And I know that there's a part of me thatwantshim to see. For what reason? Maybe to let him get a glimpse of what he's been missing out on. Or maybe even in the hopes that he might think I'm attractive, if nothing else.

God, I'm such an idiot. The flush in my skin runs even hotter as I slip my shirt off, heedless of the fact that I didn't even make a pretense of hiding behind a tree to strip.

I look over at him, glare already sharpened as if daring him to insult me in some way.

But rather than him looking me in the eyes, I see his quiet stare locked lower, staring at my chest now covered by nothing except a simple neutral-toned bra.

Then his dark eyes flick back up to my face, and we lock gazes.

He exhales very slowly and looks away to start going for his belt.

I have to look away then, ears burning hot at the twinkling sound. My legs go a bit weak, and I silently scold my body for acting like he just rang a dinner bell. Stupid. I'm so fucking stupid for wanting him even now. All he's doing is offering to help me try to shift again. Nothing more.

With that thought ringing through me, I bruteforce my way through the rest of stripping myself down, looking at nowhere and thinking of nothing but the task at hand. The forest air is sharp and cool on my bare skin suddenly deprived of any layers, and I feel everything prickle and in certain degreesharden at the sudden chill. But I just fold my clothes as I go and wind up slipping them neatly one by one into the backpack I brought.

A train of thought frets and furrows in the back of my mind, suddenly paranoid about every little detail of my body. What if I look so much uglier than when we were young? It'd been almost half our lives by this point. So much of me had changed, and I know I never filled out well. Other women had often told me how much they envied my figure for being so tall and slender, but I often felt boxy, gangly, and bland. I lacked the fine curves and softness that men seemed to really find appealing.

I'm suckerpunched by the thought that Rowan's mother was probably a bombshell. Thorn, with all of his own attractiveness and appeal, would certainly only share his bed with someone of a similar caliber.

What the hell am I even thinking right now?

I zip up one of the bag's pockets a bit too violently; it nearly jams up before I double the zipper back and slow down the rest of the way. So preoccupied in my own thoughts, I glance sharply over towards him.

Which is definitely a mistake.

He's staring down at me where I'm crouched down to handle the bag and in the middle of slipping off his boxer briefs. And even though I'm a few feet off from him, my sight line pretty readily moves to crotch height.

“Jesus,” I can't stop myself from exclaiming under my breath at the accidental glimpse of him.

I swear I almost see him smirk and I whip my head away, scowling even though I must be completely red in the face by now.

“Yeah, yeah, you must be used to that by now. Don't let it get to your head and give me your clothes.”

I hold out my hand blindly and flex it in expectant demand. Neither of us say anything as I get his clothes packed away as well, and I try to not fixate on the lingering warmth in the fabric or the trace of his scent that billows up when I shove them away.

“There.”

“We'll leave everything here and come back for it.”

“I’m looking forward to sitting naked in the woods feeling sorry for myself when this doesn't work while you come back here to grab the bag.”

“Stop thinking like that.”

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