"Fuck," Trey curses, closing his eyes, the veins standing out on his neck as he hammers into me faster, harder. "Fuck, Sheridan. I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."
"I'm sorry I hurt you, too. I was such a bitch."
Time slows. Rearranges. Or else we enter into no-time. All I know is the delicious slide and smack of his thrusts, the sensation of being filled and emptied, and all the while deeply held, revered, honored.
There's magic sparking between us. Our wolves are meeting on the same level as our human selves-perfectly matched, perfectly in tune.
And then he roars, bucking so hard my butt bounces off the bed with each rebound, ramming the bed into the wall.
There's a snarl and a sharp, satisfying pain.
The scent of my blood mingled with the scent of his essence. My arousal. Sex.
Marking.
Love.
The scent of love.
He falls down onto me and I sob into his neck-happy, glorious sobs.
He claimed me. He never meant to hurt me.
I'm finally where I belong. Where we belong.
Together.
CHAPTER TEN
PRESENT
Sheridan
I'VE NEVER WOKEN up with a man before. It's delicious. Trey's warm limbs are curled around me, his scent fills my nostrils. I turn into his embrace and nuzzle his neck. Then I remember that he marked me, and touch my own.
The wounds have already closed. I run my finger over the raised areas. Trey tangles his fingers over mine and traces the marks with his thumb. "Tell me it wasn't a mistake." Worry glints in his gaze.
He always was a thinker.
An over-thinker, when it came to me.
He let me hate him just to make sure I'd go to Stanford!
Sweet, infuriating male.
But my mouth goes dry when I think-really think-about what this means. My parents will flip. One of us will have to move. We barely have a relationship to stand on. Yeah, maybe he jumped the gun.
If by jumping the gun I mean holding off for twelve years.
"Not a mistake," I say, though. Because I can't believe it was. I won't. There's no way the two of us would each wait twelve years for someone who hated us if it wasn't meant to be.
He leans his forehead against mine.
"It doesn't change things. I wore your mark already-on my heart."
Trey relaxes. "I wore yours, too." He taps his chest. We're quiet a moment, his hand smoothing over my bare skin, up my hip and back down again.
"I can't believe the outfit you wore last night," he says out of nowhere. "Or, shit, the one you wore at the fight."
"Oh yeah?" I prop myself up. "You like my little costumes?"
"Are they that, though? Costumes?" His eyes pierce mine.
I blink. "Well, yeah. I mean, it's not like that's what I wear to work."
He just stares at me and I swallow. Of course Trey sees too much. Right through my lies, straight into my soul. After a long silence, I swallow. "All those outfits are just for fun. They're not the real me."
"Aren't they?"
"No." I frown, looking away, and he lays a hand on my cheek, guiding me back to face him. "They're just for fun," I whisper.
He presses his lips together, blows out a breath, and then it's his turn to look away. Right at my closet, as if he has x-ray vision and can pick out all the freaky costumes I'm hiding in there.
"What?" I ask.
"I see things differently. The suits you wear, the daddy's girl act-I think that's the costume. Maybe the nights you let down your hair, that's the real you."
I lay down on my back, grabbing my pillow. I want to cover my face. "I don't think so."
Trey hasn't moved. He's still propped up, gazing down at me. Only now, his eyes turn tender. "I do."
I roll away, bringing the pillow up to muffle my words. "Whatever."
His palm smacks down on my left butt cheek.
I roll back, snarling. "Hey!"
He laughs and grips my bottom hard for a moment, before giving it a deep massage. "You can't hide from me."
"I'm not hiding," I pout.
"Not from me. Never from me." He raises a blond brow. "I know all your secrets." Dropping his head, he gives my shoulder a kiss. "They"-his lips trespass to the vulnerable spot under my ear-"are"-he catches my earlobe between his teeth and tugs-"all"-he pretends to gnaw on the outer rim of my ear. My eyes flutter closed. My ears are so sensitive-"mine."
His tongue thrusts in, and sensation shoots straight through me, detonating between my legs. I try to twist away from him and his hands grip me harder, holding me down and helpless. I writhe against the sheets, growing hotter for him by the second.
He crawls lower and spreads my thighs, rolling my knees back to my shoulders. One long lap, and he has me straining against his hold. Shivering for more.
"Trey," I rasp.
"You taste so good, baby." He smacks his lips and dives down for more, licking into me, swirling his tongue between my labia, up around my clit.
I moan and wiggle and push my knees into his hands, but he continues his torture, flicking his tongue over my clit, then suctioning his lips over it to suck. Just when I'm about to go off, he stops and backs off me. "Roll over."
It's on the tip of my lips to demand why, or give him crap, but I remember how much I loved his domination last night, and do what he asks. Instantly I'm transformed to a slightly giggly, trembling bundle of anticipation. I hear the rip of a condom and Trey climbs over me, nudging my legs apart.
"I have twelve years to make up for," Trey growls, like it's going to be a punishment and impales me. He's still too big, but I'm a shifter, so I'm not sore and I freaking love the position. Trey's loins push against my ass, the head of his cock hits a spot inside me that makes me moan.