Chapter 25 Crossing the Line
Wynter's POV
Two days had passed since we'd delivered Vivian to Dr. Reeves. Two days of waiting to hear back from Chase; I was getting worried things went south with his dad.
Until his text came through during my last class of the day.
Can you come to my room tonight? I want to see you. Just us.
My wolf practically howled with approval. Yes. Finally. Go to him.
Give me twenty minutes, I sent back.
---
I pulled on the black dress Rosalie had bought me weeks ago, the one I'd never dared wear. After a quick shower, I was out the door, my wolf practically dragging me toward him with every step. The connection between us pulsed stronger as I approached the Alpha dormitory.
When I reached his door, it swung open before I could knock.
"Hi," I said softly, suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze.
"Hi." His voice was rough, his eyes already touched with gold. "You look beautiful. Come in."
I stepped into his suite and immediately noticed the warmth—a fire crackling in the fireplace, and on the stove sat a pan of what looked like perfectly seared steaks with roasted vegetables.
"You cooked?" I turned to stare at him, unable to hide my shock.
My wolf made a pleased sound. He provides. Good mate.
Chase raised an eyebrow. "Why do you sound so surprised?"
"Because you're you. Chase Sterling. Alpha heir. I figured you'd be the type who's incredibly capable in a fight but completely helpless in a kitchen."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I learned for my mother. She got sick a few years ago—nothing life-threatening, but she was weak for months. I felt useless. I couldn't heal her, couldn't make her better. But I could make sure she ate properly."
My heart clenched. "That's really sweet."
"It was practical." But I could see the faint color rising in his cheeks. "She needed to eat."
We settled at his small dining table, and the food was as good as it looked. But I was acutely aware of the tension building between us with every passing moment—and the unspoken question hanging in the air.
I took a breath, my fork pausing midway to my mouth. “How did it go with your father?"
Chase's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his eyes flicking to mine before returning to his plate. "I did."
"And?"
"Now's not the time, Wynter." His voice was gentle but firm, a growl laced his words. "Tonight, I just want it to be about us. Not my father, not the Pack politics, not any of that. Just you and me. Can we have that?"
Through the connection, I felt his wolf's restlessness—the need to protect me from whatever harsh words had been exchanged. My wolf responded with a soft whimper of understanding.
He's protecting us, she said. Let him. Tonight can be just ours.
I nodded slowly, setting down my fork. "Okay. Just us."
Something in his expression softened, and he reached across the table to take my hand. "Thank you."
After we finished, Chase held out his hand. "Come here."
I took his hand and let him pull me to the couch by the fire. We sat close, his arm draped along the back behind me. Through the connection, I could feel his primal side taking over, his wolf pushing closer to the surface.
"I've been thinking about you constantly," Chase admitted. "These past two days."
"I've been thinking about you too." My fingers found the edge of my dress, twisting the fabric as heat crept up my neck.
His leg brushed against my calf, sending a jolt through me—I couldn't tell if it was intentional or accidental.
Then his mouth found mine, hot and hungry and perfect.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, his eyes had gone molten gold.
"I want you," he said, his wolf surfacing in his tone. "But I need you to be sure. The other times—you were in pain, desperate. This time I need to know you're choosing this."
We choose him, my wolf said fiercely.
"I'm sure," I said, letting the gold bleed into my eyes. "We're sure. My wolf and I. We want this. Want you. Both of you."
"Thank God." He stood, pulling me up with him, a growl laced his words. "Because my wolf has been going insane these past two days."
Then his mouth was on mine again as he walked us backward toward his bedroom.
---
We stumbled through the doorway, and he pulled my dress up and over my head. His eyes—still touched with gold—tracked over me hungrily.
"Beautiful," he breathed, his primal side taking over. "So fucking beautiful."
Heat flooded through me. I reached for his shirt, and he helped me pull it off. I let my hands explore the lean muscle of his chest, and he shuddered under my touch.
"Bed. Now," he growled, his wolf surfacing in his tone.
We fell together onto the soft sheets. His hands were everywhere—sliding up my sides, cupping my breasts through the thin fabric. I arched into his touch with a gasp.
"Chase," I moaned.
"Tell me what you need," he murmured, his lips trailing down my jaw to my neck. When his mouth reached the damaged skin where my Mark should have been whole, he paused. His lips traced the raised edges of the scar tissue with devastating gentleness—not with disgust or pity, but with something that felt like reverence. He pressed soft kisses around the twisted skin, his breath warm against the sensitive area.
"Even scarred, it's beautiful," he whispered against my neck, his wolf surfacing in his tone. "Because it's yours. Because you survived."
Through the connection, I felt his wolf's fierce protectiveness, his acceptance of every damaged part of me. My wolf whimpered with emotion, overwhelmed by his tenderness.
We want everything, my wolf said.
"You. Just you. All of you."
He groaned and his hands slid beneath me to unhook my bra. For a moment he just looked at me, and through the connection, I felt his wolf's satisfaction at finally seeing me like this—not through the haze of fever but clearly.
"Perfect," he breathed.
Then his mouth was on me, and I couldn't hold back a cry. His hand slid down my stomach to the waistband of my panties, pausing there.
"Yes," I gasped. "Please, yes."
He slid my panties down my legs slowly. My wolf practically purred at being fully bare before him. Then his hand was between my thighs, exploring with confident touches.
"So wet already," he groaned, a growl laced his words. "And you're actually here with me this time. Not lost in fever. I can feel you through the connection—you and your wolf both."
Tell him we've wanted this too, my wolf urged.
"I wanted this too," I admitted breathlessly. "The other times—I barely remember them. But this time I want to remember everything."
His eyes flashed gold with satisfaction, and his fingers found that bundle of nerves, circling with perfect pressure. I arched off the bed with a broken moan.
He shifted, settling between my thighs. "I want to taste you first. Properly this time."
Before I could process what he meant, his mouth was on me—hot and wet and absolutely sinful. But this time, I could actually feel it. Not through the haze of fever, but clearly. Intensely.
His tongue traced deliberate patterns that made my vision blur.
"I've wanted to do this properly," he groaned against me, his primal side taking over. "To take my time with you. The other times, you were in so much pain I couldn't—but now—"
His fingers slid inside me—one, then two—while his mouth continued its assault. The dual sensation was overwhelming in the best way.
So good, my wolf whimpered. Never felt like this before.
"Chase—" I whimpered, my hands fisting in his hair.
"I could stay here forever," he said, his voice reverent, his wolf surfacing in his tone. "Just tasting you. Watching you fall apart. And knowing you're choosing this—"
His fingers curved inside me, hitting that perfect spot, and I shattered. The orgasm crashed over me in waves—not desperate relief from pain, but pure, overwhelming pleasure. My wolf howled with satisfaction, and through the connection, I felt his wolf's triumphant roar.
When I came back to myself, he was kissing his way back up my body. He captured my mouth in a deep kiss, and I could taste myself on him.
"Chase," I breathed, my hands sliding down to his belt. "I need you inside me. Please."