Page 47 of Daddy's Mail Order Mate

I've been a lot of different things, honestly. Incessantly horny seems to be the leading emotion however. Despite all my efforts to shove that particular feeling far to the back of my mind and shock my body out of it, all it takes is justlookingat him to get me shivering and breathless again.

Speaking of, my eyes wander just enough to settle towards him. From this vantage, I only really see a bit of him: veiny hands idly resting on the steering wheel, the firm line of his arm and shoulder, the peek of his ear and nape around the headrest, and the edge of his gorgeous profile kept in silent focus on the road ahead.

God, I hadn't been this hot to trot even when I'd been a teenager. It feels like decades of pent up need have hit me all at once and left me so sensitive to desire that I'd probably get wet just from seeing his shadow.

I rest my arm on the car door and discreetly wipe at my face to try and pull myself back from just marinating in this all-consuming lust for him. There were so many other important factors I needed to consider and decisions looming over my head. The last thing I need is to spend every waking second practically in heat.

Even though I hadn't been able to shift, something has definitely changed. The only thing that makes sense is that it has worked in deepening my connection to the wolf within me. The haunting torture that I'd felt tucked away in me feels lessened, replaced instead by this potent desire for Thorn and a delicate vulnerable ache that feels ready to disappate at a moment's notice.

That last sensation I think might be the faintest trace of hope. While it still feels like an absolute pipedream that Thorn could ever want me in any real way, the fact of the matter is just yesterday he was on top of me literally an inch away from taking me on the forest floor.

My thighs squeeze and squirm a little bit at the memory, and I carefully cross them in a futile effort for retroactive modesty. I’d really just laid myself bare and open for him. If he hadn't remembered himself, I probably would have been caught in whatever strange trance had overtaken me and forced him inside of me.

I feel my inner walls squeeze around nothing, acutely reminding me that I am direly empty and the object of my desire isso close.If he'd been so ready to fill me then, what would it take to get him to do that again, or go even further?

Frustration twitches across my face and I rub at my eyes.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I recognize the road we're on and focus on getting my bearings to distract myself. We're actually not that far out from Thorn's home. I'm both grateful for it but also dreading it; at least in the car, we're locked in our respective spots and I don't have to interact with him too much. But once we get there, it'll be getting things unpacked, tending to Rowan, and settling back in. Which means interacting with him, watching him walk around, maybe even having to get close to him.

It was hard enough back at Elm Wood to just get through the rest of the night and get ourselves on the road this morning having to share the little guest house with him.

Maybe after I take care of Rowan, I'll go coop up in my room and keep myself busy somehow. Thorn's been pretty respectful of giving me my space. And with how stoic and careful he's been since our trip to the woods yesterday, I figure he’ll probably be especially mindful.

That sets off a tension in my gut that almost feels like the trace of a tantrum. Why am I so focused on staying away from him? We'resupposedto be close. He's my—

I grit my teeth to the point that it hurts.

He's not myanything, and I know it, despite whatever repressed aspect of myself has decided to come back out after all these years. If we genuinely had anything, he would have had a proper talk about what happened; not just yesterday, but all of our old history. I scold myself and shove the cold hard facts to the forefront of my mind to try to cool this sudden whiplash I’m suffering from.

As though on some sort of cue, Rowan starts stirring as we get close to the house. I welcome the chance to stay busy and start tending to him in the last few minutes of the ride.

Once the car's parked, I hear Thorn turn around in his seat.

“Bring him in. I'll get our bags.”

Our.

What am I, fourteen?

“Sure,” I mumble. Realizing how out of it I sound, I clear my throat before going on in a more focused tone. “You mentioned to your sister that you've got work to catch up on. I can watch him.”

I glance over to him and I’m a little spooked by what I see. Maybe he wasn't expecting me to actually look at him, because his expression has a trace of intensity that reminds me of what he looked like looming over me yesterday. When we make eye contact he straightens up and has a sort of stilted quality when he turns back around to turn off the car and get out.

Am I just projecting onto him? Or maybe he's just suffering from the biological pull of the mate bond but is fighting against it. Because of course he'd be resisting it: he clearly didn't and still doesn't want it. He doesn't wantme.

There's a trace of that old pain spiking through me of the rejection, but it feels dulled a bit by this latest fixation. I mean, it is hard to walk away from an experience like yesterday and not feel some mixed signals. Which unfortunately seems to have given my delusional wolf enough rope to hang herself with.

I get some relief for the next hour or so, thanks to Thorn holing up with his laptop and Rowan needing to get a full round of doting and me needing to sort out various chores to get the house resituated again.

But then Rowan gets a bit too excitable and works himself up into a little bit of spit up, and I have to go and talk to Thorn.

I carefully balance the baby and knock on the door to his office. I've managed to stay busy enough that I’d almost managed to put my awoken appetite behind me.

Despite the circumstances, when Thorn opens the door, I completely forget the question that had been readily lined up in my mind. Instead all I can do is stare at his arms; he rolled up his sleeves, leaving his forearms on delicious display. When I blink, I remember how they looked braced on either side of me, and the rest of his gorgeous body bare above me.

He grunts in a questioning tone, and I’m so startled that I blank out for a second.

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