Page 11

11

Wyatt

N aomi is pulling away from me, but I can feel her wolf’s pain as vividly as my own, like a dull, gnawing ache deep in my gut.

I might not be great with words, or be experienced dealing with women, but I’m not an idiot. Naomi has been slipping through my fingers, and no matter how much space I give her, she keeps running even further. And it’s killing me.

It wasn't meant to work this way, fated mates are drawn together, not driven apart. Every instinct I have screams that something is wrong, and that she needs me, even as she pushes me away.

But my wolf is determined not to let her. There’s more to this than a mere change of heart, and try as she might, I’m not going to let my mate hide from me.

So when I catch sight of her headed toward the shower block with her shoulders slumped and her expression bleak, I don’t think. I follow. Maybe this is utter stupidity. She could reject me if she’s feeling as conflicted as the roiling, ever-shifting storm of emotions I’m getting blasted with leads me to believe.

As I trail her to the single storey, white building, she doesn’t look back. She doesn’t even acknowledge me, but she knows I’m here.

“Naomi.” Her name slips from my lips as my wolf howls inside, unable to understand why our mate is ignoring us. He’s spent years being shunned by almost everyone we meet, but this, from the one who’s supposed to be there for us no matter what, cuts deeper than all others combined.

I share his frustration, but where I have patience, he has none.

She stops, conflicted, like she wants to come to me, but only for a second. Then she continues moving, her dark hair swaying with each hurried step, pretending she didn’t hear me. She rushes into the ladies’ shower room, like the little stick figure on the door offers her some sort of protection from a determined alpha male on a mission. Her scent draws me in like a lure.

There’s no way I could turn and leave, even if I wanted to. I might pride myself on being a gentleman, but the mating bond is strong and primal. Just like my wolf.

Does she really think I’m going to stay away?

The beast inside me bristles at the snub as the door swings shut behind her. He’s hurt, but also angry, and demanding I not let her shut us out. I’ve dreamt of having a mate, and the memories of the intimate moments we’ve had at the competition are burned so clearly in my mind that I know I’ll never be able to let her go.

So I don’t.

I step inside the door, putting a cleaning sign outside, and shut it firmly behind me. I don’t walk right into the shower unannounced, but I’m also not letting her out of here until she talks to me.

When the water turns on, the noise of splashing water and rising steam filling the air, I curse her stubbornness.

Is she really just going to carry on and ignore my presence?

The small changing area is empty except for her clothes, folded neatly on a bench. Naomi's scent envelops me, now mingling with the steam. It takes every ounce of willpower not to follow it directly to its source.

Instead, I wait, pacing the tiled floor, my reflection fragmented in the row of mirrors along one wall.

“I know you can hear me.” My words come out rougher than I intend, but I don’t care. The idea of her naked just around the corner is playing havoc with my senses.

Is that a hint of her arousal being carried on the steam?

It wraps around me, setting my pulse racing, and shoots my libido through the roof. It’s like she’s touching me, caressing me all over, as I breathe her in. I close my eyes when the steam places layer after layer of her smell on my skin.

Gritting my teeth, I ignore the tightness in my pants, and the images my imagination conjures of my mate, slippery and wet, soaping up and stroking every inch of her skin.

Trying to convince my wolf to show restraint, I open my eyes. I’ve moved, it seems, my feet taking me of their own accord, to the entrance of the shower area.

Standing under a steady stream of water with her back to me is my mate.

My breath hitches at the sight of her, rivers of hot water run down over her curves, and her beautiful face tilts up to the flowing water. Her torso, with a slim waist, flares out to curvy hips and a luscious ass, on full display, and I take my time memorising this vision. Her long, toned legs. A hint of her breasts, the swell just visible from the side, as she wraps an arm across her chest to hide them from me.

My wolf growls in my head. He wants to see all of her. Although he wants to do more than simply see…

Maybe I should be ashamed, to be unabashedly admiring my mate, standing here without her express permission to enter, but I’m entranced by her beauty and too obsessed with every dip and curve to even avert my gaze.

But she knows I’m here. If she wanted me to leave, she would have said so.

She turns just enough that her eyes flick to mine. It’s only a fraction of a second, just a glance, but it’s long enough.

Guilt.

Fuck.

It’s worse than if she were angry for some unwitting slight on my part.

I step in closer, drawn to her in a way that feels inevitable, unstoppable. The second I do, the intensifying scent of her wraps around me, pulling my willpower taut like a frayed wire.

She’s enjoying my perusal of her, sensing my attraction, and wanting me to come to her. It’s hard to hide how I feel about her, the front of my trousers tenting with the erection I’m longing to do something with.

Her gaze flashes to it before she quickly looks away again, swallowing hard.

“You’re avoiding me, mate.” I step closer, not caring that the spray from the water is splashing my clothes. Getting wet is the least of my concerns. “Tell me what I did wrong, and I’ll fix it.”

“No. Nothing.” She shakes her head as if she can dispel whatever the hell is crackling between us, the tension, the magic of the bond, this undeniable lust. “This isn’t about you, Wyatt.”

My teeth clench. “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

I feel her eagerness to reassure me that this isn’t a rejection of me, even if it’s hard not to take her standoffish demeanour personally. Her words gut me. If it’s not about me, then why won’t she talk to me? We’re mates.

Doesn’t she know that I’d go to the ends of the earth to help her? Whatever burden she’s bearing is mine to share.

“Because it feels very much like you’re avoiding me,” I continue, inching closer.

She closes her eyes for half a second before reaching out to turn off the water, preparing to flee again. My wolf is wild with frustration, and even my human side is at the end of its patience. We need answers. We need her.

I step forward on instinct, my chest to her back, and catch her hand before she can shut off the shower. Not to trap her, but to get her to look at me. I loom over her, my chest pressed to her bare back, and she freezes, both of us acutely aware of the tiniest movement, the very presence of the other.

Our breathing syncs as we stand here, the bond pulling us together so hard it’s physically painful to resist.

The water cascades around us, soaking my clothes, plastering them to my skin. I don't care. All I care about is her. The slight trembling of her body against mine, the racing of her pulse beneath my fingers, and the shaky exhale that escapes her when my chest presses firm against her back.

Reaching out, I sweep her hair over her shoulder so I can look at her bare neck, letting my breath touch where her mating mark will go someday.

“We are mates, Naomi. Whatever the problem is, we’ll face it together. Even if the problem is me.”

Wobbling on her feet a little, she sways back, her luscious ass brushing against the fly of my pants, causing me to growl with raw lust so strong that I’m scared I won’t be able to control it.

“You’re mine,” I continue on, words ragged and demanding. “And I’m offended that you’re not willing to let me in. Even if it’s just to lend a listening ear.”

Naomi groans and tips her head back, letting her head rest against my chest.

“If you’re having doubts about us, you can talk to me.”

As she holds her breath, working up the courage to speak, I wait, but when she lets it out with a tortured groan, I fill the silence for her.

“I know I’m not exactly a catch on paper. Living as a rogue since I was a teen, practically homeless, with no wealth to offer or a fancy home. At least, not yet. But I’ll work every day to be the best mate I can be.”

The words pour out of me, more vulnerable than I've allowed myself to be in years.

There's something about her that breaks through all my defenses, that makes me want to lay myself bare. "I know I come with baggage. Scars. But everything I am, everything I have, it's yours, Naomi. If you'll have me."

Naomi whimpers and brings her hands to her face. “It’s not fair. You’re just…”

I hold my breath, bracing for the blow that never comes.

Instead, she offers what should be a compliment but feels like a bad thing. “...so perfect.”

Now I’m completely confused.

“I’m not perfect, Naomi, but I am yours.”

With gentle fingers, I turn her face to the side so I can see her expression. I search her eyes, finding pain, frustration, and something that looks dangerously like fear. My protective instincts roar to life. Someone's hurting her, hurting what's mine. I want to demand answers, to hunt down whoever's responsible, but I force those instincts down. Right now, she needs tenderness, not aggression.

Dipping my head, I press the barest of kisses to her neck, then another, inhaling her scent deep into my lungs.

When she doesn’t tell me to stop, but leans back into me, the scent of her arousal deepens.

I wrap my hand around her throat and tilt her head back. Her stunning eyes meet mine. “Let me act like your man and show you how happy we’d be, even if you’re not sure yet.”

A pained look crosses her face as she screws her eyes shut. “That’s not it.” When she opens them again, they’re brimming with emotions, and I’m floored by the sadness that’s slamming into me through the bond.

What the hell is going on?

Reaching past her, I grab the shampoo bottle from the tiny shelf.

Naomi watches me with curiosity as I remove my hand from her throat and pour some of the liquid into my palm. Her brows wrinkle as I rub my hands together, lathering up the shampoo, and then press my fingers deep into her hair, massaging her scalp and gathering up the long strands.

The scent of lavender and mint rises around us as I work the shampoo through her hair. My fingers press and circle, finding the tension points at her temples, the base of her skull, the tight muscles where neck meets shoulder.

I've never washed anyone's hair before, but instinct guides me, the need to care for my mate overriding any awkwardness.

She moans as I continue to lavish attention on her, easing out the tension she’s carrying while carefully ensuring her hair is thoroughly washed, before encouraging her forward with a gentle nudge so I can rinse the suds out.

The hot water bathes the two of us as I make sure all the bubbles are gone.

“You’re getting wet,” she mumbles, sounding drowsy and content. Her pupils are blown wide, and her cheeks are rosy. The scent of her desire lingers, making it hard to ignore when we’re this close.

“So are you,” I murmur, and she laughs, one hand reaching back to rest on my thigh.

I wrap my hand around her waist and pull her tight to me so I can kiss her neck again, teasing the shell of her ear and letting her feel just how much I want her.

I fight back the urge to take this encounter further, but I’m not trying to seduce Naomi right now. I’m trying to bond, to show her I’ll take care of her in every way. If that means not pushing this right now, I’ll do that too, while still showing up for her in every way I can.

“I’m yours, Naomi. We can take this slow. Let me prove myself. Just don’t run away from me.”

Once the water flowing down her toned back is clear, I get the conditioner and rub it into the ends before combing it through carefully.

“You’re good at that. Most men would have yanked half of my hair out by now.” Naomi stiffens as the words pass her lips. “Not that any other men are brushing my hair. But I understand that you might have done this for other women… I don't want to know about it, but I guess that’s just reality…” She snaps her mouth shut when her wolf growls loudly, hating the turn this conversation has taken. But I know it’s just her nerves talking.

“Have you seen Jamie’s hair? Granted, I never helped her while she was in the shower, but I’m man enough to admit I brushed it a time or two when we had nobody else helping us. Sleeping as your wolf with no access to hair products can wreak havoc on hair. Or so I’m told.”

Naomi’s tension melts away as I let my fingertips dig into her scalp and bring them down along her neck before massaging her tight shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I’m such a shit… How do I have the nerve to be jealous when I’m being awful to you?”

Her guilt slams into me through the bond, a tidal wave of emotion that nearly knocks me back. There's something deeper here than simple uncertainty about our connection. Something that's tearing her apart.

I can feel Naomi getting upset again, so I pull her against me, not caring that I’m soaked through. “You’re not being awful to me. We’re new. This is new. We’re just finding our way.”

Turning her around, I resist the powerful desire to look down along her body, and instead, focus on her wide eyes that are swimming with tears as I lean down and kiss her gently on the forehead. “We’ve got time. Unless me being a rogue is a deal-breaker for you.”

“No. No, Wyatt. Please don’t think that.”

She continues to stare up at me as I busy myself, making sure the conditioner is gone from her hair and pretending the hard-on that's now pressed against her soft stomach isn’t really there.

“I think I love you already,” she whispers, and I smile, keeping my emotions in check, even as my wolf practically cartwheels inside my head, and my chest feels like it’s ready to explode with joy.

“Great, you’re catching up.”

The words come out light, playful, but they're nothing less than the truth. I've fallen for her completely, helplessly. From that first moment in the field when our eyes locked, I knew she was it for me. The only one. The rest of my life.

Instead of picking her up and wrapping her legs around me like I long to, I press a tender kiss to her lips before stepping back and grabbing a towel for her, still keeping my eyes carefully averted as she takes it.

“Because I knew the second you spoke to me.”

Naomi makes no move to wrap the towel around her gloriously naked body, and my cock stirs again. Is she trying to break me?

I’m going to need a long, hard run after this.

Taking the towel, I drape it around her and hand her the two ends, which she takes silently, her brain spinning.

When she swallows hard, I can see her growing anxious again, so I pull her in for another hug and kiss the top of her head.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Naomi. Until then, we’ll get to know each other. No pressure.”