Page 31

As soon as Rowan lowers himself to his knees and tugs my hips to the very edge of the table, I know that thinking coherently is no longer an option.

My chest heaves as if I’ve just run miles through the forest. I gaze down at him, watching as he props my thighs on his broadshoulders and then turns his face to press a kiss to my inner thigh.

“Look at you,” he croons. “Look how wet you are for me.”

Obviously, the wolf snarls from inside my very soul. Our bodies exist to be enjoyed by each other. I was made for you, just as you are made for me. Of course I respond to you this willingly, so pliant and needy from little more than a kiss.

Instead, I moan.

“Shh,” he murmurs, the hint of a laugh in his voice.

He ducks his head, lapping his tongue against my center. I toss my head back, relishing the way his body rumbles with a low groan.

Rowan is merciless with the strokes of his tongue, favoring efficiency over drawing this out. I have to clap a hand over my mouth to muffle the sounds that escape me against my best efforts.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. His tongue swirls expertly, and then he suckles with just the right amount of pressure. I squirm, approaching my climax at a breakneck pace. I have to bite the skin of my palm to keep myself quiet when he slides one finger inside me and crooks it at just the right angle, still working my clit with his tongue as if he’s never tasted anything more delicious in his life.

He’s too good at this. He knows exactly how to touch me.

Almost as if he’s had a lot of practice with this. As if, during the years of separated, he’s gained ample experience.

The thought makes my blood run cold. Harsh, icy reality hits me at the exact time my orgasm does. I writhe against him as a deluge of pleasure takes over, but not even that can keep the tide of horror that’s sweeping in underneath it all.

When the waves ebb, Rowan sits back on his heels and gazes up at me. His lips are wet with…with me…and the sight of it should turn me on all over again, but there’s dread simmering in the pit of my stomach now.

On shaky legs, I slip off the table and nudge him away.

Rowan brought me over the edge with the kind of precision that can only be gained through hands-on learning. Which can only mean one thing—he has been intimate with other women during the past decade.

Of course, he has. He’s an Alpha male. He has certain needs. And he rejected me, anyway. He thought he’d never see me again. The mere thought that he’d choose celibacy is…ridiculous.

And yet, the realization feels like a punch to the gut.

Rowan rises to his feet slowly, still dark-eyed and caught up in the heat of the moment. I move around him and retrieve my leggings from the floor, tugging them back on quickly.

“Alina?”

I take a deep breath. “How many others?”

A beat of silence. “What?”

Trying not to let him see how feral the thought of him being with other women makes me, I swallow hard and turn to face him.

“How many other females have you taken to bed since you rejected me?”

Rowan stumbles back a step as if I’ve struck him. His dilated pupils shrink back to normal, human size. A bitterness creeps into his scent that tells me I’ve managed to kill the mood with a single question.

“Just answer the question. Please.”

He furrows his brow. Hurt colors his expression and, if I didn’t know any better, I might think I’ve just hurled a nasty insult at him.

Maybe I have.

“Do you really think I would do that?” he murmurs.

He tries to take a step toward me, but I move away and wrap my arms protectively around myself.

“Why wouldn’t you?” I snap back.