Page 40 of Sigma
Or will he just keep denying our connection? Just how stubborn is he? He must be pretty damn stubborn to resist the urge to claim me for however long, as well as to continue to deny what we could have.
Maybe everything about me is a disappointment to him, maybe that’s why it’s so easy.
No. That’s not it. He wants me. He wants me but won’t allow himself to have me because he’s afraid of his wolf killing me.
I feel like crying. But crying won’t get me what I want, what I need. No.
He might be stubborn, but I am the queen of stubborn.
It needs to be action, not tears. Action and maybe a little temptation.
I storm out there and find him with his head in his hands. He’s not wearing the mask; it’s on the floor beside him. The keys aren’t on the hook; they’re by the door. Did he throw them away so he couldn’t follow me? The stubborn jackass! I pick them up as I yank the towel off my head and throw it at him. It hits his torso. He tosses it aside and as soon as he looks at me, I drop the other towel.
I stand still, seething. Seething and naked.
“Go,” he croaks out like he’s in pain.
He is. I don’t just see it, I feel it.
“No.”
“Go!” he gets louder.
“Fuck you,” I retort.
He laughs bitterly.
“No,” I amend, “Fuck me.” I step forward. “Fuckme, Jared.”
“Stop,” he raises a hand as if it’ll stop me from coming closer, but I continue closing in, not stopping until I’m directly in front of him.
I drop to my knees and my hands land on his thighs.
“Jared.”
I squeeze gently.
His eyes move from the ground to meet mine and they’re so full of pain my anger disintegrates. I reach for his face.
He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t even turn away.
I cup his stubbled jaw in one hand and stroke his cheek with my thumb.
“Jared,” I whisper again.
He leans into my touch for a split second before he turns his head and presses a kiss against my palm. And the look on his face, the way he does it, it’s everything.
It feels like my chest is splitting wide open.
I choke on a sob and he grabs me, pulling me directly against him, his mouth hitting mine, his tongue dipping inside.
I wrap my arms around him and hold tight as his mouth devours mine. I melt. It feels so good. So right. This is my mate. This is who I’m meant to spend my life with, have babies with, go on adventures with. I’m supposed to shift and run and frolic with him in wolf form. I’m supposed to grow old right beside him.
I’m suddenly on my back and he’s on top of me, pulling himself from his sweatpants, lining up, and filling me.
“Yes, baby,” I moan, raking my nails down his strong back.
He growls, pulling back and slamming forward, groaning when he hits the end of me. The heat and emotion in his eyes and our connection are everything.
