Page 54 of Rejected Exile

Then he shuts the door and turns in my direction.

His eyes widen as he takes me in.

I panic, grabbing onto my towel and taking a huge leap back towards the bathroom floor. Wet linoleum hits the toe of my foot and my ankle twists. Yelping, I try to grab onto the doorframe for purchase, but my hands are still coated with the detangler I put in my hair.

I can feel the moment when I'm going to go down.

My eyes meet Roarke's summer-blue gaze, and I know he senses it too.

All the breath leaves my body, and I go down. My legs flail, my hands grasp for air, and I squeeze my eyes shut, anticipating pain.

My back hits something solid. But it doesn't hurt. Because somehow, in the moment it took for me to fall, Roarke managed to leap over and catch me.

His strong, muscular arms are wrapped behind my back. One of his legs is wedged between mine, and the other is folded up beside me, his knee on the linoleum. Wide blue eyes stare down at me, his lips slightly parted as our gazes lock.

The earbuds fall out of his ears and onto the bathroom floor.

I gasp for air and inhale his scent: sharp bergamot, heady cloves, and an underlying whiff of citrus. His eyes flutter closed briefly, then peel open again, and he pulls me up against him.

"That looked like it was going to hurt," he says, his voice roughened by his sudden actions. "You okay?"

"Super." I reach up to brush a bit of his blond hair back behind the curve of his ear. His skin is impossibly warm against my fingertips. "Thanks for the fast reflexes."

"Perks of being a werewolf."

"Yeah."

His eyes dip down to my lips. My hand rests against the side of his head. Jaw tightening, he looks for a moment like he might jerk away, might resist what's flaring to life between us. I can see a thousand thoughts running through his head, most of them no doubt about his best friend, and I can guess why he's holding back from me.

I'm afraid that if I lose him now, I'll never get him back.

So I move my hand down to the spot where his hair brushes against his neck and pull his head down towards me. In the same moment I lean up to press my lips against his, and draw my free hand up to steady myself on his strong bicep.

Roarke freezes against my touch. A heartbeat passes, and fear rushes through me. Maybe I was wrong—maybe I'm just embarrassing myself for no reason at all.

Then a rush of breath leaves him, and along with it, a growl of desire. He grabs me, pulls me against his body tight, and ravages me with his mouth. There's no slowness or deliberateness to his movements—just a sudden rush of tongue and lips opening my mouth and claiming me. I'm enveloped by him, his leg rubbing up between mine, his lips and teeth nipping at my mouth.

I grab onto him for dear life and kiss him like it might be my only chance. His stubble brushes up against my skin and leaves a burn behind. My hand moves down his bicep towards his chest, where I feel a deep and powerful rumble starting.

Pulling back from my mouth, hegrowlsso loud it's practically a word, then grabs my head and gently pulls it back to expose my neck more. His mouth moves down to the sensitive skin there, and he parts his lips to suck and nibble until I feel a rush of pleasure.

Gasping, I arch against him—and he moans just beneath my ear, his leg shoving in harder between mine. I part my thighs further and clamp them around him, rubbing up against him, seeking friction as the towel falls open and my naked body meets his denim-clad leg. Wetness grows between my thighs and my clit throbs with desire.

There goes that cold shower.

"Delilah." His voice is low and roughened. Jerking back, he looks down into my eyes, his fingers pushing my wet hair away from my face. There's a rim of deep black around his blue irises that must be his wolf's eye color. "We shouldn't do this."

"Yes we should," I tell him, though a moment later I have to laugh with bitterness. "Actually, you're right, we shouldn't—because you deserve so much better than me, Roarke. You're going to be alpha, and you need more than a broken she-wolf who can't even shift and might never be able too."

His brows knit, and he looks away, then back at me. Roughly he says, "I don't care about that." Then, "I'm not putting in a bid for alpha. There's no future for the Glass Pack anyway."

I freeze beneath him, then pull back, grabbing onto my towel and leaning up on my arms. Roarke stiffens and pulls back as well, until we're facing each other on the bathroom floor, his leg still awkwardly between mine, the towel doing little to separate my naked body from his clothed one.

"What do you mean, no future? Are you talking about the curse?"

"I am. And the only way out of it." He frowns, glancing away for a moment. "You don't need to hear about this, Delilah. It's not something you should worry about. The curse won't affect you."

"And what if it could?"

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