Chapter 53 53
Fernando stormed into his room, breath torn and uneven, a string of curses spilling from his mouth as soon as the door shut behind him. His hands went to his tie first, yanking it loose before shrugging out of his shirt and stalking straight into the bathroom.
His pants followed.
Another curse ripped from his throat when he took in the unmistakable evidence of his arousal.
“Fuck.”
Stripping off his boxers, he stepped under the cold spray of the shower, jaw clenched as he dealt with his hardness her scent, her body, her soft gasps invading his mind no matter how hard he tried to shut them out.
Hunter was livid.
The Alpha, reduced to this?
Unable to claim his own mate?
Pathetic.
She lived under his roof. Vulnerable. Unprotected. Entirely at his mercy.
He could take her once, twice, a thousand times over. Her strength was nothing compared to his. He could overpower her effortlessly.
But that wasn’t what he wanted.
That wasn’t what his heart fucking wanted.
He wanted her trust.
He wanted his little doll to fall slowly, helplessly in love with him.
And for that, he couldn’t afford recklessness. He needed restraint. He wanted her to ask him to claim her. To believe he was a good man. That he cared. That he was patient. Waiting.
He wanted her thoughts filled with him day and night. Wanted her yearning, aching, undone.
And only when she was deeply, irrevocably in love would he tell her the truth.
The truth that would make her want to leave.
Not that he’d ever let her.
He could keep her captive for the rest of her life if he wished but he didn’t want that fate for her.
What he felt for Sofía went far beyond the mate bond. He had never cared for anyone outside his pack. Never like this.
Her tears mattered.
Losing her was not an option.
He wanted her beside him as his Luna.
He needed her.
And to make her his completely, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.
Sofía stood in the kitchen, breathing hard, forcing air into her lungs as her heart hammered uncontrollably. Her fingers lifted to her neck, brushing the place where his lips had been moments ago.
What was this man?
Not something simple. Not something understandable.
The hunger in his touch, the way his mouth burned against her skin it all screamed of desire and need. Yet he’d stopped. He’d walked away.
He hadn’t forced her.
No matter how easily she melted in his arms, no matter how weak she became around him, he never crossed that line. Not truly. Not except for that first kiss.
For a man so rough, so dangerous, he tried strangely to be gentle with her.
Why?
Did he like her?
She knew his approach had never been right. Their relationship itself wasn’t acceptable not by society’s rules. Fernando didn’t woo or coax. He took what he wanted when he wanted, consequences be damned.
Yet with her… it was different.
She changed into pajamas and returned to the kitchen, pushing her confusion aside as she prepared breakfast for two. When he came down, they ate in silence, the air thick with tension.
He left without a word. Without a glance.
An hour ago, he’d been pressed against her like he couldn’t get enough.
Now he was cold. Distant. Untouchable.
With a sigh, she retreated to her room and studied the entire day, skipping lunch entirely. She didn’t check on him she assumed he was sleeping.
In the evening, she made herself coffee and settled in the lounge with her books, wrestling with math her most hated subject.
She was so focused she didn’t notice the eyes watching her.
Not until she got the answer wrong for the sixth time.
With an irritated huff, she slammed the book shut and tugged at her hair.
Her body stiffened when someone sat beside her.
Her breath caught when he lifted the book from her lap and placed it on the table.
Fernando picked up a pen. “Pay attention,” he said calmly.
She obeyed.
He rewrote the problem, explaining each step slowly, precisely.
“And then you take the square root.”
Understanding dawned.
He handed her another problem. Her fingers trembled slightly as she took the pen, angling the page away from him instinctively. When she finished, she showed him.
“Wrong,” he murmured, circling her mistake. “This turns positive when it moves left.”
She tried again.
This time, she got it right.
He continued explaining while she listened intently unaware that while she focused on numbers, he was focused on her.
Her scent was torture.
God knew how much longer he could hold himself together.
“Alluring,” he rasped.
The word snapped her upright as if struck by lightning.
“I—I should p-prepare dinner,” she stammered, abandoning the book and retreating into the kitchen.
She inhaled deeply once alone.
He ignored her at breakfast.
Fine.
She’d ignore him at dinner.
Tit for tat.
She cooked pasta, Russian salad, and prawn rice far too much for two people, but her beast liked to eat. The table was set by the time he joined her.
Fernando stared at the food like a starving man.
He loved her cooking.
“Can you pass the salad?” he asked politely.
She pretended not to hear him.
His brow arched slowly.
“Are you ignoring me, doll?”