Page 12 of Wolf’s Providence (The Shadowridge Peak #3)

ELEVEN

Willow

I leaned against the bathroom sink, gripping the cool porcelain with shaky hands, trying to steady my breathing.

This was insanity. None of this was normal.

I’d turned the water off, but I hadn’t moved. My pulse was racing, my skin was tingling, and it wasn’t from the cold. Leaning over, I turned the shower on. Looking down at myself, I saw my nipples peaked and clearly visible through my shirt. Stripping off my jammies, I stepped under the water, letting the warmth soothe me.

My body felt tense, a familiar itch scratching along my veins. Not the itch from the bond, this was a deeper, more primal need. I craved something.

Caleb .

He was so close, just in the other room. I could feel him like a second heartbeat, pulsing almost in rhythm with my own. The need for him was impossible to ignore.

Exhaling slowly, I tipped my head back, letting the water flow over me. I’d wash my hair and ignore any other urges I may be having. My fingers dug deep into my scalp, massaging methodically as I envisaged strong, long fingers entwined in my hair, holding my head where he wanted it. Wrapping my blonde hair around his fingers as he held my head in place, as his cock thrust into my mouth.

“Jesus,” I groaned. “Pull it together,” I scolded myself. My body felt warm, and not from the hot water. Rinsing my hair, I picked up my body wash, trying to be quick, wanting out of the shower now. Despite my wishes, my hands moved slowly over my skin, tracing patterns on my skin that I remembered his hands making when we were together that one time in the car.

My fingers rubbed circles over my scars before sinking lower, tantalizingly close to where I needed to feel Caleb’s touch. Biting my lip, ignoring the small, breathy gasps I was making, I slipped one finger between my lips. I was so wet. My body was completely betraying me in ways I hadn’t expected. In a way I wasn’t ready to deal with. My eyes closed as I gently rubbed the ache between my legs, my knees weak as desire pulsed through me.

God, I needed him inside here with me. I needed him to touch me, fuck me. My head tipped back again as the sensations built steadily.

I felt so restless, so…hungry. I could feel him, his presence humming insistently in the back of my mind. The heat between us only seemed to grow the more I tried to deny it.

My fingers were slick with my need. Holy shit, I was so close. My teeth bit at my lip as I fought the groan I wanted to moan, but I couldn’t let him know what I was doing in here.

The loud thump on the door caused me to yelp in surprise, my hands flying up in fright.

“I need the bathroom,” he said gruffly through the door. “Will you be much longer?”

I couldn’t speak. Desire coated my tongue. My clit still throbbed with unfulfilled need.

“ Willow ?” His voice was sharp. Tight.

“No!” Hastily rubbing my hands under the water, I turned the water off. “Give me a minute.”

The mirror was fogged over, but as I dried off, I could feel the flush of my skin, and I hoped to God he thought it was from the heat of the shower.

And then I remembered his sense of smell.

Oh shit. And now I knew why he had sounded so…strained. He could smell me. Now I wanted to stay in here for a whole different reason.

Wetting a washcloth, I pawed between my legs, hoping to clear any sign of my arousal. This was so embarrassing. What the hell had I been thinking?

He was a shifter for fuck’s sake.

I took a deep steadying breath and stepped away from the sink. I couldn’t hide in here forever. Wrapping my towel around me, I picked up my jammies, and with a quick prayer it wouldn’t be awkward, I opened the door.

A solid, immovable force stood in front of me, his eyes burning with a heat that instantly spiked my own. Caleb didn’t move, his nostrils flared, and I heard a soft groan as his eyes burned a path down my body.

I just stood there, my heart beating too fast, watching the rise and fall of his shoulders. The room was dim, shadows danced around his silhouette, and I felt the bond between us, strained so tight that it was almost vibrating.

“Caleb,” I whispered, unsure why I was whispering but needing to break the silence between us.

He still didn’t move. I recognized slowly that he was holding himself in check. His eyes burned into mine. “Go to bed, Willow.” His voice was low, gruff, but controlled.

I hesitated. The bond beat like its own heartbeat between us, and I knew he felt it too, as it grew stronger and stronger. My body ached with desire. Need. I didn’t want to deny it.

I wanted to be closer.

“Caleb—”

His hands flexed and I remembered the last time he had been in front of me, barely holding on to his control.

I stepped back automatically, and I saw the flash of pain as he recognized why.

“Go to bed, Willow,” he told me again, his voice tinged with regret. “I won’t touch you.”

He was past me and locked in the bathroom before I had the chance to explain. Standing there, clutching my towel, I stared at the closed door. “I didn’t mean that,” I told the door softly, knowing he could hear me. “I’m sorry.”

Crossing over to the bed, I felt something inside me twist. We’d been through hell together, nearly lost each other, more than once, and the weight of that was enough. I didn’t need to add to our misery by overreacting to a man I cared so much for.

Quickly, I dropped my towel, pulled on my jammies, and scrambled under the covers, hoping that layers of cotton would smother my lingering smell of arousal to the sensitive shifter’s nose. Turning with my back to the door, I focused on the wall.

I heard the toilet flush, the faucet turn on, then off, and then the snick of the door as Caleb entered the room.

“I don’t want to fight,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“We’re not fighting,” he assured me.

I felt my throat tightening. “You’re mad at me?”

I couldn’t see him, but I could almost feel him stiffening at the question. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, full of something raw that made my pulse quicken. “I’m not mad. We’re trying to figure our shit out, not make things worse.”

Worse? Is that what he thought this was? Something that was broken? Dangerous? Something we needed to tiptoe around? I opened my mouth to ask, but he spoke again.

“Smelling you when you’re…riled up…it’s hard.”

“Hard?” My thirteen-year-old self snickered. “How hard? Really hard?”

I heard his groan, but I also heard the amusement. “You’re a child.”

I grinned at the wall, the tension leaving my body. The bond between us flexed; it felt like…approval.

“Even with you in the room, I can still feel it pulling at me,” I confessed. Caleb grunted in agreement, cementing the fact that he felt it too. “Do you know what this is?”

“No.”

I didn’t believe him, but I also didn’t want to fight. “I don’t think we can ignore it.”

His sigh was loud in the quiet. “No.”

“Are you sure you’re not ignoring it?” I whispered, my face half-hidden in my pillow.

The chair thumped off the wall, and I tensed, knowing he was on his feet. He was behind me, and then he was moving onto the bed beside me, the bed creaking in protest at the added weight. Caleb was a big man. Solid. A large arm wrapped around me despite the layers that covered me. I could see the tension in his muscled arms, but I didn’t resist as he pulled me tight into his body.

“I’m not ignoring it,” he ground out, his voice low in my ear. “I can’t ignore it. I’m not dead. That’s the only way I could ignore it, and with how sweet your pussy smells, even then, it would be impossible.”

My face flamed at his words, and I bit my lip as my heart galloped in my chest. “I washed myself,” I whispered in protest.

I was moved onto my back, the covers still separating us, but as I stared up at him, the look in his eyes made my breath catch. The heat was undeniable. Raw. Wild. But I saw something darker.

Guilt.

I wanted to reach for him, but he pressed the blankets tightly around me, prohibiting any movements.

“If I give into this,” he told me, his voice gravelly with emotion, “I won’t be able to stop.”

My body was shaking with need, but I didn’t want to back down, and I also wanted to respect what he was saying. It was so complicated, and we both had things we needed to resolve, but I also knew I wanted him. I didn’t want to be without him. Despite everything I had said earlier, I wanted him.

“If you won’t be able to stop…” I dipped my eyes from his fierce gaze, taking a moment to consider my next words. Looking up at him from under my lashes, I sealed my fate. “Don’t stop.”

Caleb stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, and I could see the war that raged inside of him. He was fighting this.

Fighting us .

I was tired of fighting. “Caleb…”

His breath was uneven, his fists still clenched on either side of me as he leaned over me. His gaze dropped to my lips, and his body leaned into mine, despite his restraint.

Just when I thought he might pull away, he closed the distance between us in one swift movement, and his lips found mine, opening over mine, and he swallowed my moan as he made me forget everything. The room, the tension, the fear—all disappeared the moment his mouth claimed mine. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a release.

I melted into him, my hands struggling to fight free of the blankets as I kissed him back, my body straining to be closer to his. The bond pulsed between us, and I could feel the connection deepening, weaving us together in ways I couldn’t explain.

Caleb growled low in his throat as he pulled me closer. His hands, finally freeing me of the blankets, slid down my body, resting on my waist as he kissed me harder, deeper, like he was afraid I might move away if he didn’t hold me tightly enough.

Our tongues moved against each other, and my fingers sank into his thick heavy hair, rubbing the soft strands between my fingers as I arched into his kiss.

I lost myself in him. In us.

I felt him push my top up, his hands exploring my body, and I felt him come to a stop. Caleb jerked his head back, his body immobile as his fingers traced over the scars on my abdomen. His touch, which had just been so urgent, now slowed, trembling slightly as he brushed over the rough skin that told the story of my survival.

His breath hitched, and I felt his grip loosen as if he couldn’t trust himself to be so close to me. The wildness in his eyes was gone, and all that was left was regret.

Shame.

My heart sank as I realized what was happening. He was feeling what he had done, feeling the scars on my abdomen that he had caused.

“It’s okay, Caleb,” I whispered desperately as I reached out for him, my own hand trembling as I reached up and cupped his face. I needed him to understand that I was still here.

But he shook his head, his jaw tight, and the tension radiating from his body was palpable. He was still holding me, but the way in which he held me had changed. Just moments ago, his touch had been almost feral—wild and uncontrolled, like he was on the edge of something he couldn’t come back from. Now, it was different, cautious. Unsure. He was holding me like I might break, as if I were fragile.

Damaged.

“Don’t look.” My voice cracked, a plea of desperation slipping from my lips. It was a stupid thing to say, but I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. I didn’t want him to look at the marks he had left on my skin. I felt his fingers flex against me, against the reminder of what had been done.

Caleb’s head dropped, shielding himself from my gaze. His breathing was heavy and ragged, for completely different reasons than seconds before. I could see him fight to control himself, saw the effort it took in the way his chest rose and fell.

Worse, I could feel it in the bond—the guilt, the shame that he couldn’t shake. It was a suffocating weight, wrapping around us both like a weight neither of us could bear.

“I need to see,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, full of the agony I knew he had been carrying since that night. His eyes flickered to mine, and seeing the self-loathing made my heart squeeze with pain. “I almost lost you, I need to see.”

“No.” My chest was tight, breathing was painful. Shaking my head, I brushed my fingers over his cheek. “This wasn’t your fault. You saved me. You brought me back.”

But I already knew he wasn’t listening. His eyes dropped to the bottom of my shirt, and with a slow, deliberate push, he lifted the top up, exposing my stomach. I heard the sharp intake of breath, and I turned my head away as I felt his fingers trace the line of my scars. His fingers trembled as they caressed the healed skin. “I never should have done this to you. It should never have gotten so far. I let my darkness—” He stopped, his voice cracking, the pain in his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

“I’m still here,” I whispered, still trying to reach him, still trying to pull him back from spiraling back into the darkness. “We’re both still here,” I reminded him, my throat thick with emotion.

He looked up at me then, his gaze locking with mine, and for a second, I saw a flicker of something else in his eyes. Hope? Or maybe the realization that we were still here, together. But it was fleeting, and before I could hold on to him, he was pulling away, his face hard. Guilt wrapped around him like a shield.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered as he got off the bed. “I could hurt you again. You’re not safe with me, Willow.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” I snapped, pushing my shirt down and sitting up in bed. “I am not afraid of you, Caleb.”

His jaw flexed, his eyes burning into mine, a mix of frustration and longing swirling together. “Well, then you’re an idiot because you should be.”

Anger had me pushing myself off the bed, closing the distance between us, my fingers jabbing into his chest. “I am not an idiot,” I whispered fiercely. “I trust you.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, the tension between us was so thick I could choke on it. Our bond hummed between us, tugging at us, pulling us closer. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the barely restrained power coiling beneath his skin, and I knew he was resisting it. Resisting the pull between us.

The instinct to protect.

To possess.

I was fighting it too, but for a different reason.

Because despite all the stuff that had happened, despite the scars on my body and the uncertainty of what lay ahead for us, one thing for me was constant.

And that was him . Caleb.

I still wanted him. I needed him.

Him . No one else.

And I needed him to understand that.

I stepped closer until there was hardly space between us, my fingers curling around the edge of the fabric of his shirt, pushing it up, exposing his rock-hard abs. My fingers danced along the grooves of his body, dipping over the hard planes of muscle. “You didn’t lose me,” I told him, pleased my voice sounded steady, because my heart definitely was not. “You didn’t hurt me on purpose,” I whispered. “And you would never hurt me on purpose.”

He stared down at me, his breathing uneven, his eyes flicking between mine, searching for the lie. His hands hovered near mine, hesitant, like he was afraid to touch me again.

“I never meant to hurt you.” He sounded broken and I knew I was going to cry. “But I did, and I could do it again.”

“You won’t.” Taking his hand, I guided it to my stomach, pressing his large hand against my abdomen, ignoring the twinge of pain. Quickly, I dropped my hand from his, but Caleb kept his pressed gently against my puckered skin.

With confidence I didn’t think I had, I pulled my shirt up, over my head, exposing my chest to him, dropping the shirt on the floor.

“Look at me,” I instructed him. Taking his hand once more, I pulled his fingers over my skin. “Look at me and touch me. I’m not a shifter,” I reminded him. “I don’t lose my scars. I want you to look at them, really see them.” His eyes were glued to my body.

Gently I took his hands, bringing them up to my chest, making him feel the weight of my breasts. For a second, he didn’t move, but I felt his fingers flex, and slowly, his hands curled into my body, cupping my breasts, his thumbs stroking over my nipples. His gaze was fixed on my body. I watched as his attention seemed torn between my breasts and my scars.

“Touch me, Caleb,” I told him. “I’m yours.”