Chapter Thirty-One

Luke

 

Lying together in bed the next morning, I watched Reagan sleep. Stretched out inches from me—since she’d taken over almost the whole mattress—she was deeply asleep. Her head was almost on my pillow, and her legs were curved towards me. I almost wanted to wake her up and give her a hard time about it, but I knew she needed sleep. I also knew she hadn’t been sleeping well. That was why, as much as I’d wanted to give in to my Alpha instincts last night, I’d refrained.

Except in one regard—the rings on our fingers.

Not one regret for jumping that gun. Last night had felt right, and, this morning, it felt even better. She’d basically been my wife since the moment she’d barged into the bathroom.

Or, hell, maybe I’d wanted her to be.

In any case, too, Reagan was more than a future wife—she was my partner. The two of us might need to work out our communication kinks, but when it came to, say, running Winfyre, we were a perfect team. I worried a lot less with her around, too.

Plus, I appreciated that she wanted to go kick Lind’s ass. She hadn’t said as much, but her face and flashing eyes had given her away.

Reagan moved closer, and one of her hands flopped over, landing on my stomach. I sucked in a hard breath at what this woman did to me. She wasn’t even conscious yet. Her scent rose in my nostrils, and the wolf shook awake, prowling under my skin, causing my blood to rise and my morning wood to ache. I went to get out of bed, and Reagan rolled over into me.

“Shit,” I grunted, and she woke up, arching, into me.

“Luke?” she asked in a sleepy voice and rubbed her cheek on my chest. I gritted my jaw, trying to slide away, and yet also not moving. Reagan propped herself up and blinked. “Good morning.”

“Mornin', darlin'," I said in a husky voice, throbbing underneath her now. I was going to explode. My hands curled into her sides and tried to lift her away. "How'd you sleep?"

Reagan sat up and stretched, making her breasts bounce, and I looked away. Suddenly, the memory of the Belrush tent incident hit me, and I sat up, too, careful to keep the sheet on my lap.

“So good,” she said. “Oh, hey, it’s raining.” There was a fine and heavy drizzle coming down outside, obscuring the trees and bay, fog lifting up off the water. “Nice romantic morning.”

“Sure,” I said and slid out, grabbing a pair of baggy shorts nearby. “I’ll get food.”

Racing downstairs, I splashed cold water on my face, let the dogs out, fed them, and made a simple breakfast of fruit and biscuits. When I came back upstairs, Reagan was lounging on the pillows. I sort of shoved the tray at her.

“This is nice,” Reagan said and picked up a strawberry, biting into it. “Want one?”

I shook my head, breathing hard and watching her out of the corner of my eye.

“Are you okay, Luke? What, do you have a headache or something? You’re so quiet.”

“No, I’m enjoying the morning, too,” I fibbed poorly.

Reagan gave me a look and brandished a berry. “Eat something.”

I took it and ate it, trying not to look at her. I’d heard rumors that there was a deeper kind of claim that affected shifters sometimes, almost like a deeper and more potent version of the first.

A mating claim.

I was so lost in thought, I hadn’t realized Reagan had put the tray aside and had swung around to sit with me until she slipped up next to me, her head on my shoulder.

“Luke, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I got out, almost laughing. “I promise.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“No.” My chest heaved, and Reagan lifted her head. “Are you?”

“No,” Reagan said. “But you’re—”

“I’m trying not to ravish you, darlin’,” I said in a low voice, and she went pink, her lips popping open. “I’m the one flirtin' with fire right now." My eyes traced over her messy dark waves, her green-gray eyes, and her scraps of clothing. "I think I'm gonna go take a cold shower. Fair warnin’, you come in here tonight, and I’m not holding back.”

“Why wait until tonight?”

The question sparked up my skin and knocked out my brain for several moments. If I hadn’t seen Reagan’s lips move, I might not have believed it.

She twisted her fingers into a tendril of hair. “I mean—”

I didn’t let her finish that sentence.

Tackling her to the bed, I captured her lips and slid my hands into the back of her shirt. Reagan made a soft, desperate noise against me, and her legs locked around my waist. With a growl, I rocked against her, and she made it again. Louder. I’d have her crying out my name soon.

“Feel what you do to me?” I asked and nipped at her neck below her ear. “You’re gonna make that up to me. For this morning, last night, and every other time you blue-balled me.”

“There were other times?” Reagan asked, arching up with her hands traveling down my back. Her fingers were cautious and curious, finding every ridge of muscle. “Like when?”

“Like Belrush, when you were delirious from sleep loss and slipping your hands in my shirt,” I growled, and Reagan gasped. “I thought about that for weeks.”

“Wait, in the tent?” she asked, and her eyes were huge. “That happened? I thought that was a dream. Oh, Luke.”

“Oh, it happened,” I said. “Payback.”

“Luke, I’m sorry,” Reagan said, and I pulled back. She was bright pink. “I—”

Cutting her off with a kiss, I stroked her tongue with mine and tasted her sweet mouth. When I was finished, I pulled back and grinned. “Don’t worry. You’re gonna make it up to me.”

One hand slid down and played with the seam of her shorts before I slipped my fingers inside. Reagan gasped as I teased the outside of her warmth, then flicked the bundle of nerves at the apex. I watched her head whip back and forth, her breasts bouncing as she fought for breath.

“Luke,” she gasped as I gave her a preview of later with my fingers. “Oh, oh. Yes.”

I chuckled against her neck, then pulled back, watching her come undone.

“Don’t stop.” Her eyes were closed, and her body writhed, trying to find an outlet.

And I was just getting started, the Alpha barely freed.

Curling and flexing, I gave her body pleasure with one hand and teased with the other. Flicking my fingers over her breasts, teasing down her stomach and up to her hair, fisting it and tugging it. Reagan’s breathing was sharper and faster, then she clenched up, crying out in pleasure.

I barely gave her time to take a breath before I’d swept off her tank top and swirled my tongue around a peaked nipple. Alternating between teeth and tongue, my hand on her other breast, I played her pleasure higher and higher, until Reagan was a helpless mess.

“Luke, I’m close, I’m—” Her words were sucked in on a hard breath as she came again.

“I’m taking this off,” I said, reaching down and pulling off her shorts.

The sight of Reagan, limp with pleasure and lying in my bed in the soft light of a rainy morning, made my shaft twitch. There was nothing but pressure in my pants.

But I didn’t want to rush this moment. Instead, I began tasting every inch of her, laying feather-light kisses up and down her bare thighs, across her hips, and then up to her shoulders.

By then, Reagan had recovered and was kissing me back, her lips on my chest, my neck, and then we were kissing again. Her silken skin slid against mine, burning everywhere it went.

Then we were sitting up, and her hands were sliding down my stomach and into my boxers. I hissed and broke away as she stroked up my length, then tugged on my shorts. I helped her slide them off and grinned as Reagan’s eyes went wide.

Before I could get a comment in, she’d curled up and taken me in her mouth.

“Reagan,” I groaned and tipped my head back. One hand was fisted in her hair, while the other gripped the blankets. “God, that…” She was good at this, sending bolts of heat through my body and causing the pressure to switch over to dangerous levels of pleasure. “Yes.”

Her head bobbed faster, each slide of her tongue driving me further over the edge.

A growl tore free of me, and she hummed, the vibration going straight to the base of my spine and then up. I hit the peak then, going straight over the edge, and white stars seemed to swim in front of my eyes. Panting, I let go of Reagan and sat back, trying to get a grip.

“How was that?” Reagan asked, her voice both sly and shy.

“Let me return the favor,” I said, grasping her waist and tossing her up among the pillows.

We kissed and kissed, our bodies pressing and sliding together. My length was hard and pressing into her leg, while Reagan whimpered into my mouth and arched against me.

Pulling back, I looked at her and brushed the hair out of her face. “You want this?”

Reagan nodded and caught my hand, brushing her finger against my ring.

“I want you,” she said in a low and husky voice. “I want to be with you. I love you.”