Page 31 of Chev's Mate

Chev’s straining the fabric of his jeans, the imprint of his erection impossible not to notice. He wordlessly reaches down to cover himself, hiding the view as he takes another step back. I’m faintly aware I’m shaking.

I can’t recall the last time a man so visibly aroused didn’t force himself on me.

I should be scared. I should be terrified. If it were anybody but Chev, I would be. The bond between us refuses to let me feel the fear. It’s like a weighted blanket on my negative emotions, and the blanket has only gotten heavier from our distance.

I refuse to acknowledge Chev’s erection, or our frustrating bond, as I cross my arms over my chest and inch back toward my door. I need to be prepared to run inside and lock the door should something go wrong between us. The bond wants me to trust him, but I no longer believe in blind faith.

“I’m sorry,” Chev says. He takes another step back, until he’s about to fall off the porch. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He’s holding back a smile. It keeps threatening to spread across his lips, and I can tell it’s taking everything he has not to let it emerge. Kissing Chev was the absolute worst thing I could’ve done. I’m sending him the wrong message, giving him hope for something that will never happen.

We will never be together.

“I came here to apologize,” he continues. “I’m sure you heard me earlier today.”

I nod.

I knew things were too good to be true in Wrath, but the confirmation was a punch to the gut. Despite how hard I try, I’ll never truly be free of Chev. He won’t leave me alone, not when he has the connections and ability to get everything he wants. I’m just another object for him to own.

Chev clears his throat. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused today. I’ve been waiting for you to seek me out, and today’s mistakes aren’t who I am. I’m a patient man for you, but I was frightened when I felt your pain. I acted without thinking, and I want to apologize.”

He straightens up as he speaks, forgetting his purposeful small posture.

Chev is tall, and I tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. It takes every bit of courage I have to hold it, but it quickly becomes too much and I shift my gaze to his sternum. Why did I encourage him to remove his shirt? There are hundreds of pictures of him running around in nothing more than his short, leather skirt, but they do little justice to the real thing.

How many other females have seen him in such little clothing? I’m jealous, and I shake my head to stop that thought from going further. He’s not mine, and I’m not his. This bond between us is a mistake, and Chev will soon see that and move on.

Chev shifts his weight from foot to foot, and I realize he’s stopped speaking. I look back up, forcing myself to make eye contact.

“What can I do to earn your trust?” he asks.

I’m not ready for this conversation.

A panic I’m all too familiar with begins to fester inside me. It spreads until it consumes me, overwhelming my every thought. Chev cocks his head to the side, his fingers twitching as he visibly fights not to reach out for me.

This is too much.

I open my mouth, but no sound emerges. After another second of fumbling, I hurry back into my home and slam the door shut. My hands shake as I turn the locks. I’m fully aware they’re useless in keeping Chev out, but I don’t care.

I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this, and I wipe at my mouth in a desperate attempt to remove our kiss. This was a mistake. I should’ve never accepted this job.

My cheeks grow wet as my panic rises, and a pain I’m pretty sure is caused by our bond spreads from my chest into every limb of my body. It’s an uncomfortable burning sensation, and it continues to grow as I peek out the window beside the front door.

Chev hasn’t moved.

He shakes his head and arms before reaching up and touching his lips, his fingers pressing against them as a tiny smile spreads across his face. My heart thumps. I shouldn’t care if he enjoyed our kiss and smiles like a giddy schoolboy afterward.

Chev’s gaze flashes to the window, and I dart away before he sees me. He’s either going to leave or force his way in, and I’ve spent enough time as a purchased female to know I have no control over his decision. He wouldn’t be the first man to force himself into my space and body, and I steel my mind in preparation for it.

Kissing him sent the wrong message, and I shouldn’t be surprised if he takes that as an invitation. I’ve been reading about shifter males these past few weeks, specifically their mating habits, and it’s not something I’m interested in. The males always dominate their females, urging them into a submission I will never give.

At least, not willingly.

Minutes pass. Chev doesn’t force his way inside my home. Eventually, I work up the courage to peek out the window again.

Chev’s still standing on the porch, frowning as he stares at his feet. He’s not wearing shoes, which is unsurprising, and he clutches his ripped shirt to his chest in a sad attempt to cover hisskin. Is he doing that for me? I know he’s comfortable showing skin. All shifters are.

When it becomes clear he isn’t leaving, I shove away my fears and unlock the door.

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