Page 9 of Claimed By the Werewolf Boss

Chapter eight

Cheyenne

I take another deep breath as I swipe the makeup removal wipe over my lashes.

As much as I’d rather roll my whole suitcase into Valentino’s suite, I’m not sure he’d appreciate that level of progression.

If the orgasm he gave me is anything to go by, sex with him is going to be intense and, dare I say, magical.

He says he’s interested, but I shouldn’t push how deep that interest goes.

I need to hold on to my heart a little longer and keep the part of me desperate for romantic love hidden.

I should keep this at a stage three cling for now.

One downside of thinking I’d be mostly ignored on this vacation was that I brought my favourite pj’s, not my sexiest. The crop top and bleach-stained sweatpants from Old Armoury glare at me from where they rest on the closed toilet seat.

No, no, I hate sleeping without bottoms on. My thighs get all stuck together and end up irritated. I need to be honest about my comforts and likes if this is going to work out. And I like sleeping with pants on. No matter how warm it is or how hot my bed partner might be, I can’t sleep naked.

I brush my hair and loosely braid it so it stays dry while I take a quick shower. Out of curiosity, I wrap my fist around the length just to see if I can, to see if maybe Valentino could if he fucked me from behind. The length of hair coils easily around my hand.

Definitely should have put a scene like that in one of my books.

I groan a little and turn on the water, trying not to think about how lost I am for ideas. Shouldn’t writers always have them? I’ve been doing this for almost a decade, and with so many books on my backlist, maybe I’ve used all the words I have.

Once it’s hot, I step in and let the water drown my thoughts.

It stings with my fading sunburn, but I’ve sweated more on this vacation than I have all year.

Isn’t this sort of detox supposed to energise a person?

In truth though, I have even less energy now that I don’t have a deadline looming over me.

There’s no drive in my body to keep me going .

Everyone is right. I’m burnt out and this fucking sucks.

I rest my head on the shower wall, a pathetic whine building in the back of my throat.

Who cares if my hair gets wet now? I don’t hate admitting it, but I hate accepting that I can’t just go, go, go like I used to.

Maybe having a new boyfriend will help inspire me.

Boyfriend.

He called himself that so it’s not me rushing into it. He said it, and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest. Dinner was a whirlwind I never wanted to end, yet after he helped me put my dress back into place, I couldn’t eat fast enough.

But what now? I feel locked between two revelations, one of admitting I’m exhausted from never allowing myself to rest and the other of throwing myself into a wild holiday romance that will be short-lived and leave my heart broken once I board the plane home.

The door to my room unlocks and shuts quickly.

I pause my mental descent into uncertainty and limp exhaustion, waiting for Junelle to call out. It must be her, because she knows I was on a date tonight. The hot gossip can’t possibly wait till morning.

And to be fair, it’s piping hot.

“I couldn’t wait.”

My whole body flinches, my heart jumping right into my throat while my stomach dive-bombs to my feet. Valentino stands in my bathroom, slowly removing his clothes while he stares at me. I don’t make a sound, transfixed on watching him.

He isn’t a hard-muscle gym bro or even that old-school wrestler strong.

His pectorals are soft, his stomach curves out in a way that tells me he enjoys life to its fullest. But he was still able to lift me onto the table at dinner.

His shoulders, arms, and thighs are padded, but beneath their surface lies unbelievable strength.

For as long as I can, I avoid looking at his dick. It’s going to be devastatingly beautiful, I can feel it in my gut. I want to appreciate the whole package first before I zero in on what will be the cock to end all cocks.

Valentino steps into the shower, and rather than face him, I let him press his body into mine. The weight against me is more relaxing than the hot water.

“You could’ve showered in my room.” He smiles against my shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses across my skin. “Could’ve let me unlace that corset and kiss every inch of you.”

“Is there something stopping you?” I counter.

It’s a double-sided question, a tease on one side and a deep-rooted belief that showers make people tell the truth on the other.

If he says no, there is a deliciously good chance he is going to drink from my pussy like it’s the fountain of youth.

If he says yes, it would prove all those things my mother used to say true.

Men don’t want bigger girls, and they won’t pay for a cow when they get the milk for free.

Both statements are lies. My mother’s poisonous language and beliefs are yet another reason I started writing romance.

In fiction, the main characters put in the effort, they want to express their passions to the fullest for their love interest simply because they can.

They don’t follow toxic beliefs about masculinity or what relationships “should be”.

They are good people.

Valentino is a good man.

“Your locked door didn’t stop me from coming in, sweetheart. The only thing that will stop me from worshipping you is you.” His voice rumbles as the water pounds his shoulders.

My body isn’t at war over that contradicting statement.

My date broke into my room, a red flag. But also he is respecting my right to say no, a green flag.

I have two hands, I can hold both ideas.

And a red flag has never stopped me from getting attached to someone before when a partner has done something crazy.

In fact, it’s always made me a bit hotter for them.

Something about actions like this makes me believe Valentino could be as obsessive as I can be.

That he would go to any lengths to be with me.

It’s dark and twisted how much that thought turns me on, but when I press my ass back into his crotch, his hard cock is all I’m focused on.

“Let me shower, and I’ll do the worshipping,” I promise, reaching for the tiny hotel soap that came with the room.

“No.”

He takes the soap before I can, rubbing himself across my ass while he starts to lather up his hands.

I watch, because what else am I supposed to do?

Valentino begins at my fingertips, massaging each little soft spot before he moves up my arm.

He does the same thing to my other side.

Each circle his thumb makes across my body makes my lower tummy light up.

As he reaches my shoulders, he takes his time coaxing the tension out of them.

His hands work in unison to turn me to putty.

I moan at one point, and he slides his right hand around my throat to pull my head back.

He’s gentle, careful in his caress to make sure my breathing is even without letting me move.

“I love hearing those sounds come out of your pretty mouth,” he whispers. “I want to hear them every day.”

Oh god. Red alert. Big red fucking alert.

He can’t say things like that to me. My body reacts instantly, clit humming while my knees give enough to make his grip tighten around my neck.

I want to, need to, keep telling myself it’s just bedroom talk, but there is a moment where we stare into each other’s eyes and all I see is sincerity.

A half-hearted whimper falls past my lips.

“You like that, don’t you?” he teases with a grin. “My girl is down bad, isn’t she?”

I nod because if I open my mouth I will say something awful like, never leave me .

He can’t know that. Not while we aren’t in the real world.

Vacations exist in a liminal space where food doesn’t have calories and money means nothing.

The moment we are both stateside again, Valentino will see my clinginess and behaviour for the unhealthy coping mechanism it is.

“You want to know how bad I’ve got it?” he asks.

The hand on my shoulder slides down and under my arm until he’s holding my breast. He squeezes softly. His fingers rub circles around my soft nipple until it’s hard.

“Please,” I whine.

“I didn’t sleep last night because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He tugs at my nipple until I keen, eyes flutter closed as arousal burns through me. “I saw you arrive and knew you were mine. I had to have you.”

His fingers tighten around my throat as his other hand drifts down. The soap has long washed away, but he smooths his palm across my stomach – happy trail, stretch marks, and all. I try to suck it in, anything to make myself smaller as he explores the part of me I struggle to love the most.

“Then this morning, in that fucking bikini,” he groans, teeth scraping across my jaw.

“I thought I was going to lose all control of myself. The only thing that distracted me all morning was a little spicy book, though lo and behold, my girl is the devious imagination behind all those scenes. She’s got the brains and beauty all wrapped up in this gorgeous lavender package for me. ”

My body is red from the steam of the shower, but a blush stains my cheeks further with an unbearable heat that matches the one in my pussy. Is this a praise kink? Or do I just have a thing for someone as worldly and put together as Valentino seeing all that I am?

He moves my legs further apart with his foot to give him enough space to slide his hand over my mons.

Two fingers spread my labia while a third glides through my arousal to spread it across my clit.

My hips twitch, the sensation shooting right through me.

He’s already given me an orgasm tonight, yet I feel like I haven’t been touched in a decade. My body opens to him without caution.