Chapter 10
POV)
“It’s not even been two days since you came back,” I whispered, my voice trembling as Hardin’s lips brushed against the sensitive spot just below my ear. My fingers gripped his shoulders, half in protest, half in desperation. “And you’re already causing a commotion. I’m your brother’s mate, Hardin.”
He pulled back just enough for me to see his face — his dark eyes burned with something that made my stomach twist.
“I don’t care about that,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. His thumb stroked my hip, slipping under the hem of my shirt to touch bare skin. “I only care about you, Rhianna. I always have.”
My protest caught in my throat as his mouth claimed mine in a searing, breath-stealing kiss. His tongue slid against mine, tasting, teasing, making my knees weak. I should have pushed him away — I knew I should — but my hands betrayed me, tangling in his hair and pulling him closer.
“Hardin…” I gasped when he pulled back just long enough for me to breathe.
He smirked, a wicked curl of his lips. “Say my name again, Little Wolf.”
The way he said it sent a shiver through me. His hand traced a slow path upward, his calloused palm warm on my stomach before moving higher, until I felt the brush of his thumb under my bra.
My heart pounded, every nerve in my body on fire.
“This is wrong,” I whispered, but it came out weak, breathless.
“Then tell me to stop,” he challenged softly, his forehead pressing against mine.
But I couldn’t.
When he kissed me again, deeper, hungrier, I let him. My body arched toward him, heat pooling between my thighs. He made a low sound in his throat — satisfaction, hunger — and his other hand moved to the button of my jeans.
He undid them with ease, the metal click impossibly loud in the quiet room. My breath hitched as he pushed them down my legs, his knuckles grazing my skin. I kicked them off, trembling as I stood there in nothing but my shirt and panties, his gaze devouring me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, almost reverently, before dropping to his knees in front of me. His hand traced the edge of my panties, teasing, testing.
“Hardin…” My voice was a plea I couldn’t disguise.
He hooked his fingers under the waistband and tugged them down, slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on mine the entire time. My heart was in my throat, my skin burning under his stare.
When his hand cupped me, I gasped, my hips jerking forward involuntarily. His fingers brushed my clit and I bit my lip, a soft moan escaping before I could stop it.
“Already wet for me,” he said with a dark chuckle, leaning forward to press a kiss against my inner thigh. “You want this as much as I do.”
I didn’t answer — couldn’t answer — because he slid two fingers through my folds, slow and teasing, and my knees almost gave out.
He stood, his body so close I could feel the heat radiating from him, his erection pressing against my thigh through his jeans.
“Tell me to stop, Rhi,” he said again, his voice rough, strained.
But I didn’t.
When he kissed me again, I kissed him back, desperate, reckless. His hand moved between my legs once more, stroking me until I was trembling, a whimper spilling from my lips.
He turned me toward the dresser, bending me slightly forward, and my pulse spiked. His other hand came to his belt buckle, the sound of leather sliding free making my breath catch.
I felt the blunt head of him press against my entrance, felt his chest against my back, his lips brushing my ear.
“Are you ready for me, Little Wolf?” he asked, his voice a dark promise.
My mouth opened — I wanted to say yes, I wanted him —
— BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
My eyes flew open.
For a moment, I just lay there, heart hammering against my ribs, the faint echo of Hardin’s voice still whispering in my ears. The sheets were twisted around my legs, damp with sweat, and my body… goddess, my body still ached like I hadn’t been dreaming at all.
My hand shot to my lips, tracing them as if I could still feel him there, kissing me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.
I sat up, dragging in a shaky breath.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I muttered, running both hands through my messy hair.
The room was quiet except for the sound of my racing heartbeat. Morning light spilled through the curtains, too bright, too warm — it almost felt mocking.
I swung my legs off the bed, planting my feet on the floor. My body felt heavy, throbbing in places I shouldn’t even be thinking about. I glanced toward the mirror across the room and froze. Sebastian was nowhere to be found as usual.
I looked… flushed. My lips were still swollen from biting them in my sleep, my hair a mess, my shirt sticking to my skin. I looked like I’d been touched, kissed, claimed.
And it wasn’t by my mate.
I pushed away from the mirror like it had burned me.
“This is wrong,” I said to the empty room, my voice hoarse.
Hardin wasn’t supposed to be in my head like this. He wasn’t supposed to make me feel… feel alive in a way Sebastian hadn’t in months. My chest tightened painfully, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to breathe past the ache.
I dragged myself to the bathroom and turned on the tap, splashing cold water on my face until my skin stung.
“It was just a dream,” I whispered to my reflection. “Just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.”
But it felt like it meant everything.
When I finally stepped back into my room, the silence seemed louder, heavier. My gaze drifted to my bedside table where my medication sat in a small glass bottle. I uncapped it with trembling hands and swallowed one of the pills dry, letting it scrape down my throat.
For a long moment, I just stood there staring at the bottle.
One year. That’s what Healer Alden had said. Maybe less if I wasn’t careful.
And here I was, dreaming about a man who wasn’t my mate, whose very presence made my pulse race too fast, whose touch in my dreams made me forget every careful boundary I’d built for myself.
I sank down onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered to no one, though a traitorous part of me asked, Can’t do what? Resist him… or stay loyal to Sebastian?
The question made my stomach twist.
I stood abruptly, almost angrily, and forced myself to get dressed. Loose gray sweats, a soft hoodie, nothing that would make me look like the girl who’d been writhing in her dreams moments ago.
When I was done, I opened the curtains wide, letting the morning sun flood in. Maybe if I let the light in, the dark thoughts — the dark desires — would go away.
But they didn’t.
They stayed. They lingered, just like Hardin’s voice in my head, that low growl as he called me Little Wolf.
And I hated myself for wishing, even for a second, that it hadn’t just been a dream.