10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten

Netti

C onnor winces as my eyes glance over the damage done to the side of his rental car. Deep scratches mar the paint on the passenger side, and a large dent is impacted into the rear door. My chest tightens as scenarios play through my head. Had he been anything but a shifter, there would be a good chance he wouldn’t have walked away from the accident, and we’d be having this conversation as he lay in a hospital bed.

“I’m sorry it’s not in the best shape. I got in a little fight with a tree,” he shrugs before wrenching open the door and offering me a hand.

As I tuck my feet into the car, I can’t help but marvel at the fading bruises and scratches along his jaw. I knew shifters had quick healing abilities but had never had the opportunity to observe it in real time. This prompts me to question why Carter insisted they needed a healer for their pack and why he was at a job festival nowhere near where the pack lived. It all seems rather coincidental. The door shuts with a click, shattering my thoughts, and Connor slips into the driver’s side.

“Netti?” His brows knit together in my silence as he looks at me.

“No, it’s not you or this.” I shake my head and smile. “It’s been a strange week, and I’m just glad the car took the brunt of it.”

We drive in silence, the cool winter air seeping through the cracked window, carrying the scent of frost and pine. The gentle hum of the heating system fills the car, competing with the chilly breeze.

“It’s just here.” I point to the plain brown condo I share with Alita. Connor pulls up front, the tires crunching on the gravel driveway. I rummage in my purse, feeling the smooth leather and the weight of my keys in my hand. We step out of the car, the cold air nipping at our cheeks as we make our way inside. I toss my bag on the beat-up wooden coffee table, the faint scent of old wood lingering in the air. I head into the kitchen, the cool tile floor soothing beneath my feet.

“It’s not much—”“ I begin, but he cuts me off with a husky voice, his words hanging in the air like a low growl. He leans against the door frame, his hungry eyes fixed on me, their cerulean blue momentarily flashing golden, like the piercing gaze of a wolf.

“T-ea?” I clear my throat, the sound echoing softly in the small space. I reach for two mugs from the cupboard. The kettle fills at the sink, the sound of rushing water drowning out my racing thoughts. Tea always helps clear my head, and at this moment, with this wolf shifter in my kitchen, it becomes my lifeline, the warm aroma of the steeping tea enveloping the room and blending with the scent of anticipation and desire.

“Netti—” His warm hand wraps around my wrist, and he turns me toward him.

“If this is about the scones,” I start but he silences me as he crushes his lips to mine.

“Damn the scones,” he growls as his hands fist the fabric of my dress. He leans his forehead against mine and pushes me against the counter. “I can’t think when I’m around you, but when I’m not, all I can think of is you. You’ve bewitched me.”

“I have done no such thing. Love spells and lust spells are illegal ,” I hiss. My body stiffens, and I press my hands against his firm chest to push him away, but it only presses me closer. The evidence of his thoughts presses firmly against my abdomen. Heat pools in my core, and my skin flushes.

His eyes flash open, golden orbs staring into my green, and though I should be afraid of his wolf and the full moon two days away, I feel calm.

“My little nettle,” he growls,as one hand tangles in my hair and pulls it back. He nuzzles against the sensitive skin at the column of my neck, his scruff biting at my skin and sending shivers down my spine.

Maybe just this once, I should give in.

The sound of a sharp whistle pierces through the silence, causing me to jump, my heart pounding. I quickly duck under his arm, my senses heightened, and reach for a pot holder.

“You said you wanted to talk,” I manage to say, my voice slightly strained. I clear my throat, the burning sensation from his touch lingering on my skin. The muddled thoughts in my head make it difficult to focus, but we need to address the tension between us. Even though every fiber of my being longs to surrender to him, we must clear the air before things become more entangled.

“Yes,” he reluctantly replies, his eyes tracking my every move. His hands hang at his sides, clenched into tight fists, a silent sign of his inner turmoil. I return to the stove, the heat from the burners adding to the charged atmosphere. Carefully pouring hot water into the mugs, I add a tea bag to each one, and the aroma of the brewing tea fills the room. I hand him a cup, the warmth seeping through the porcelain, creating a barrier between us. Holding my cup between both hands, I feel the heat transferring to my palms, providing comfort and grounding. Inhaling the steam rising from the cup, I hope to find clarity amidst the swirling emotions in my mind.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Connor says as he reaches out his free hand and tucks a stray strand of pink hair behind my ear.

Heat infuses my cheeks as I stare over the rim of the cup at him.

That if I wait one minute more before he starts kissing me again, I think I’ll go mad. No, that’s too rash.

“I’m always thinking.” I pause, taking a sip and he stares at me incredulously.

“Clearly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” My eyebrows raise in mock offense.

“That you’ve got so much going on in that pretty little head of yours, but you don’t take a moment to relax and enjoy.” His thumb strokes under my eyes, where I’m sure is the evidence of the lack of sleep I’ve had for the past few nights.

“That’s not very nice,” I say, my voice coming out barely a whisper.

“Who says I’m a nice guy?” he growls, his voice dripping with menace. The words hang in the air, each syllable pronounced with an ominous tone. Slowly, he leans closer, his breath tickling my earlobe. A shiver runs down my spine as his lips graze the delicate shell of my ear.

I can’t help but feel a wave of warmth coursing through me, my body almost melting into his presence. But as quickly as the moment comes, he pulls back, his eyes still burning with intensity. He sets his cup down in the sink with a clank, the sound reverberating in the silence that follows.

“There is something we need to discuss,” he says, his voice tinged with urgency. The words hang heavy in the air, a palpable tension filling the room. “I need you to take this spell off me."

“What?” I step back, unable to contain the laughter that bubbles up within me. It escapes my lips, filling the space around us with a lightness that contrasts the gravity of his words.

He looks at me, his expression serious, unyielding. “This is not a joke,” he insists, his voice breaking through my laughter. I can see the desperation in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty amidst the intensity. His words hang in the air, a heavy cloud of concern.

“I feel cursed,” he continues, his voice wavering. The weight of his words settles upon me, sinking into my bones. I can almost taste the bitterness of his frustration, the tang of helplessness. Regret at my laughter curdles in my gut. “Not to mention, I hardly have control over my wolf.” At that moment, as if spurned on by the rising emotions, Connor’s eyes flash golden.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I frown, the gesture accentuating the tension in the room. The scent of determination fills the air, mixing with the faint aroma of uncertainty. I can feel the weight of his accusation pressing against my conscience.

“I don’t deal in curses or love spells,” I say firmly, my voice laced with conviction. The words hang in the air, a shield against his doubts.

“So you’ve said before.” He taps his foot impatiently on the floor.

“What else do you want me to say?” My lips press into a firm line.

“There is something bigger going on here than just your damned pastries.” Connor’s eyes narrow, his gaze piercing as he takes a step closer. “Just tell me, how do you know my brother?” His voice is sharp, cutting through the tension. The words hang in the air, a demand for answers.

I throw my arms wide, a gesture of exasperation. “He was here for a job fair,” I explain, my voice tinged with frustration. “Anything else you need to know, Mr. Bossy Grumpy Pants?” The words escape my lips before I can stop them. I cover my mouth with my hands, my eyes widening in realization. The taste of mortification lingers on my tongue, an unwelcome flavor in the air.

I did not just let that slip.

Connor stares at me as though I’ve grown a third head. His gaze filled with disbelief. I watch as he absorbs my words, his eyes locked on mine. The silence stretches, a heavy cloak enveloping us both, punctuated only by our breathing. The atmosphere is thick with awkwardness, suffocating yet undeniably palpable.

Yep, I definitely let that slip out.

Connor tosses back his head and starts laughing.

That’s it, I’ve broken him.

“Connor?” I lay a hand on his forearm, my half-finished cup of tea forgotten on the counter. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me?”

“Sorry?” He shakes his head before putting either hand on the side of my face and pressing his lips against mine until we both pull away, gasping and breathless. “No one has dared talk to me like that since my brother and I were pups.”

“I didn’t mean to—“ I begin, but he silences me with another kiss, fingers weaving through my hair. I arch into his touch, my embarrassment melting away like chocolate replaced with need.

“No more talk of curses or spells. Magical influence or not. I want nothing but to spend the evening learning more about you.” His free hand drifts down my back, pulling me close and molding our bodies together. “That is, if you don’t have any other plans tonight?”

“Rosemary.”

“If I know my brother, she won’t be coming back here until tomorrow. We can meet them for a second breakfast.”

“Second?”

“Yes.” He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me toward my bedroom. “Because I’ll be having my first serving before we even leave to meet them in the morning.”

He sets me down at the edge of the bed and kneels between my feet. His hands stray from my waist, leisurely down the length of my calf until he stops at my ankles, taking his sweet time undoing the laces.

“Now tell me what you want, my nettle.” He presses a kiss to the inside of my bare knee as he slips one boot off and then the other. A soft moan escapes my lips as his fingers work their magic, relieving the tension in my feet. I close my eyes, letting my head fall back in pure bliss. “Tell me what you want, and I shall give it to you.”

What do I want? A tricky question with too many answers, but at the moment, all of them seem trivial except one. I want him. All of him. This man I just met but feel as though I’ve known for eons.

Warmth blossoms in my core and spreads through my veins at the thought. I open hooded eyes as Connor pauses, nostrils flaring as though he can smell my desire.

“What are you thinking?”

“That we’re doing too much talking and not enough doing.” Feeling brazen and bold, like I’ve never felt in the bedroom, I gently push him so he sits on the floor. I slide off the bed and kneel before him. With shaky fingers, I undo the buttons of his shirt. I untuck it from his pants, then slide it off his broad shoulders, letting my fingers trace the contours of muscles on his chest under a dusting of dark hair.

His breath deepens as he watches me, hands braced beside him on the floor. He holds still, muscles tense as if giving me time to explore and waiting for permission to touch me more. My fingers skim the edge of his pants, and the length of him strains against the soft gray fabric.

“I want you to take it off. I want to see you,” I whisper, my voice heavy with desire. The words leave my mouth as I tug at his leather belt, the anticipation building between us.

“As you wish,” he replies, his voice husky with longing. He cups my face and kisses me gently, his lips igniting a fire within me before pulling me with him to stand.

Standing, his presence towers over me, commanding attention and sending a shiver of excitement down my spine. As he loosens the confines of his pants and kicks them to the side, his dick springs up, proudly on display. I gaze down from his hungry eyes to his muscular legs, unable to tear my eyes away from this perfect specimen of masculinity. How can a man be built this way?

My heart catches in my throat as I take in every inch of the man standing before me. His chiseled features, the slight stubble on his jawline, the confidence radiating from his piercing eyes—it all overwhelms me, making me weak in the knees. I can’t help but reach out, my fingers trembling as I drag them down the ridges of his torso to trace the curves and valleys of his sculpted physique. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, mirroring the intensity of my desire, and I realize we are both consumed by an insatiable hunger for one another.

I‘ve seen men naked before. I’ve even had a few withering relationships, but I never gave myself permission to look openly, then. I do now.

His length is hard under my gaze. His arousal is obvious.

My insides clench as I drag a finger down the length of him, marveling at how it twitches under my examination. I wrap my hand around him, eliciting a gasp. He’s much larger than anyone I’ve been with. Much larger than I expected. My heart beats faster in my chest as an ache grows between my legs.

“Netti,” he growls against the shell of my ear. “Tell me what you want. A man can only have so much patience.”

I giggle at the thought of making him lose his patience. He pulls back, and I prepare for a grumpy remark, but his eyes dance with mischief. His kiss is deep and lingering, his mouth moving against mine with a slow, lazy passion while his hand tangles possessively in my hair.

“I want...” I murmur against his lips.

“Tell me,” he whispers, his hand drawing circles on my lower back.

“You know it’s not fair...” I trail off as he nips at my neck. The feeling of his teeth against my skin sends a jolt of pleasure through me, making me gasp and arch into his touch. “That I’m naked, and you’re still fully clothed?”

A wicked grin spreads across his face, and with a deafening rip, his claws tear through the back of my dress and bra. The shredded fabric of the dress pools around my feet, revealing my light pink lacy underwear.

“That was my favorite dress,” I gasp. My nipples pebble as I stand before him.

“I’ll buy you a hundred more.” He steps forward, his warmth surrounding me. The back of my thighs hit my bed. “Now, tell me what you want.”

“I want...” I take a shaky breath, unused to voicing my desires. “I want you to touch me. I want to feel good and not have to worry.”

“Nettle, you’re perfect. You never have to worry with me.” He kneels, hands braced on my hips, and meets my gaze. “You have to promise me that if I do something you don’t like, if you want to stop, you will tell me.”

“Yes.” Somehow deep inside, I know he will not do anything to harm me, and neither will his wolf.

“Good.” He leans forward and flicks his tongue against my nipple, eliciting a moan. His hand trails down my waist between my legs before stroking my clit. I writhe under his touch as he slips a finger into me, curling until he hits a sweet spot that sends waves of pleasure coursing through me.

“Connor,” I plead, writhing under him as he slips another finger in, slowly building up a tempo.

“Come for me,” he demands, repositioning himself and picking up his pace. The scruff of his jaw against my inner thigh sends sensations I’ve never felt before coursing through me. My body arches as I feel the heat of his breath at my core. I reach the peak, crying out. “Good girl,” Connor whispers against my skin staring up at me.

He kisses my inner thigh, pulling out and wrapping his hand around his dick, pumping it once, twice. His body leans in, his erection grazing against me as he playfully nibbles on my left breast.

“Wait,” I gasp as he gives attention to my other breast, kneading it in his palm and pinching the nipple between his fingers. “In my nightstand. Condoms.”

He reaches over and opens the drawer before chuckling. “Those won’t fit me, love.” He turns and rummages through his discarded pants until he retrieves a gold foil-wrapped square. He makes quick work, rolling the condom up his length before returning to my side.

Kissing me softly, he guides himself to my entrance.

He holds my gaze as he slowly pushes. As he fills me, a soft groan escapes his lips. A brief, sharp pang of pain makes me tense, my breath catching in my throat. He feels impossibly big, and I worry he will not fit.

Connor stills, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of my head. He’s breathing hard, his biceps clenched and his expression strained. He nuzzles at the side of my face and my body starts to adjust to him. His movements are deliberate, each one a slow, deliberate dance, and the pinch of pain blossoms into a strange pleasurable sensation. Something I want more of. Pressure and friction and the feeling of being completely filled by him.

I grip his shoulders, sinking my fingers into the muscle as he increases his rhythm. Every nerve in my body seems to vibrate, my heart hammering against my ribs as I’m consumed by a torrent of new sensations and feelings.

As if sensing the change in me, he pushes until he’s fully seated inside. His hand slides into my hair as his mouth claims mine, and he rolls his hips. Moaning, I open myself fully for him, my nails raking along his back.

“I’ve been dreaming about doing this since the day I met you.” He dips to my throat, where he kisses, sucks, and nibbles. His voice is strained as he whispers into my ear. “I’ve wanted you. Thought of nothing but you.”

“Show me.” I sink my teeth into his bottom lip as he kisses me, tempting to provoke his wolven side.

He growls and plunges into me hard. I cry out, arching against him. Pain and pleasure mingle together.

“Fuck.” He clenches his fist beside my head and moves to pull out, but I hook my legs around him.

“More,” I beg, tilting my hips to take him deeper. I’m so close to reaching my peak.

His eyes gleam feverishly golden, and it’s as if I’m looking directly at the wolf. He groans, shoulders relaxing under my fingertips.

“Demanding little creature.” He nips at the shell of my ear.

“You told me you’d give me what I want.”

“So I did,” he said, thrusting into me with force and depth. In response, I tighten my legs around his waist and curl my ankles around his back. The change in pressure and friction enhance the sensations within me, reaching new heights I never knew existed.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his words resonating deep within me. The delicious tension builds as he moves deeper and faster, and I find myself craving more. Writhing beneath him, I can’t get enough. “Look at me, my nettle,” he commands, and I obediently bring my eyes back to his.

With one final plunge, he pushes me over the edge, and a surge of release washes over me, causing me to cry out. I unravel completely beneath him, and moments later, he groans as his muscles spasm above me, thrusting one last time.

“Fuck, Netti,” he exclaims, finally stilling before pulling out and collapsing next to me. He nestles his face into the nook between my neck and shoulders, inhaling deeply. My hand rests on his chest, feeling his heart pounding. Although there are more things I want to discuss with him, the weight of sleep overcomes me, and I drift off into slumber.