Chapter 19 The Proposal
LYRA
I wish the ground would swallow me whole, six feet under, buried in my own shame.
First, Reid sees me completely naked. Now, he discovers my secret blog.
Someone, please shoot me already.
My body snaps out of its frozen shock and moves fast, rushing past him with the speed of lightning. I slam my laptop shut so hard I’m sure the screen has cracked.
I try to back away, but before I can take another step, Reid grabs my arm.
He spins me, and pins me against the wall. His body cages mine completely, one arm braced beside my head, blocking any chance of escape.
My heart hammers hard in my chest, and I’m painfully aware of what I’m wearing.
Nothing, but a flimsy, traitorous towel clinging to my damp skin.
His scent fills my nose; dark, wild and addictive. Heat blooms under my skin, crawling everywhere. My fingers tremble, and that tiny quiver is all it takes.
The towel slips again, dropping to the floor.
I gasp and try to grab it but Reid shifts closer, trapping me even tighter.
I try to cover myself with my hands, but he catches both wrists easily, and lifts them above my head, pinning them there with one large hand.
My entire body is bare before him.
My cheeks burn so fiercely I’m sure I look like a tomato about to explode. I have never stood naked in front of any male before. And of all male, Reid becomes the first to see me like this?
But despite the shame twisting inside me, something more dangerous rises with it.
Heat.
Need.
My center clenches so painfully tight, slick gathering between my thighs. I can smell my own arousal. It mortifies me.
“Let go of me,” I manage to whisper. But Reid isn’t listening. His eyes roam down my body slowly. From my breasts down to the warm, aching valley between my legs.
His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.
Then his gaze rises. Dark, intense and hungry. The ring around his irises shifts to a deep, molten gold.
His wolf. It’s pushed to the surface, reacting to my scent.
My heart slams harder against my ribs, my breath catching.
“Let go, Reid,” I stammer, though my body remains pressed against him. It’s like my limbs aren’t listening to my brain at all.
“Shh,” he whispers, his gaze lingering on my lips before returning to my eyes. “I don’t plan to do anything to you. At least… not yet.”
A little relief flickers inside me.
“You know,” he murmurs, shifting slightly, his other hand trails down my skin, “I just wanted to tell you something…”
His finger glides across the center of my chest, dragging fire slowly down my skin.
Down my stomach. Then Lower. Stopping right above the sensitive slope that leads to my folds.
His eyes never leave mine.
“What you wrote on that blog,” he says, low and mocking, “is bland.” His finger moves again, tracing dangerously lower. “And I understand. You’ve never felt any of those things before… so of course you wouldn’t know how it really feels.”
His hand slips between my thighs, easing them open.
Surprisingly, I let him.
If Dean ever tried touching me like this, I would panic and shove him off.
But with Reid…
I melt.
My lips part. A soft sound escapes me. My breathing turns ragged as he drags his finger up and down the slick center of my folds. Each slow stroke sends a tremor through my whole body.
“Oh gods… Reid…” I breathe, my hips arching instinctively. My thighs part wider, offering more, begging without words.
He smirks.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, “and I haven’t even put a finger inside you.”
He pulls his hand back and lifts it where I can see. His finger glistens.
My cheeks burn hotter.
“See that? Look how soaked you are,” he taunts softly. “Is this how badly you’ve been craving me? Even while pretending you hate me?”
The words hit me like ice water.
My mind snaps back. I swallow hard and squeeze my thighs together, trying to hide the evidence.
Reid chuckles, seeing exactly what I’m doing.
“What’s wrong, love?” he asks, leaning closer. “Did you suddenly remember you’re supposed to hate me… not let me touch you?”
“Let go. And get out of my room,” I hiss through clenched teeth, glaring straight into his eyes. I hate myself for falling for his stupid tricks.
“I will, love,” he whispers. His fingers brush my cheek, tracing the line of my face with slow interest. I turn my head away sharply.
“To be honest,” he says, voice low and maddeningly calm, “I’m impressed by your blog. Out of all the things I expected from you, that wasn’t one. You’re more audacious than I thought… in a cool way.”
My eyes snap back to him at once.My heart melts just a little.
Of all the scenarios I’d imagined about someone finding my blog, praise was never one of them. Only judgement and punishment.
“Are you trying to pull my legs?” I narrow my eyes, trying to read him. For a moment, I forget I’m naked in front of him and that minutes ago, his fingers were inside my folds, coated in my arousal.
“Why would I?” he replies. “Although your sex scenes are painfully bland, I’m still impressed.”
Then he steps closer and presses his pelvis against my stomach.
My breath catches.
His length is rock-hard. Massive. And the heat of him throbs against me. I swallow hard. My slick drips slowly down my thigh, betraying me even more.
His eyes darken, turning almost black.
“I can give you better practical guides,” he murmurs, leaning in until his mouth hovers near mine. “I can show you how to write better erotica. I can show you how it really feels… and what it really looks like.”
My body trembles.
I want to lean forward and kiss him. Bite him until I draw blood.
I want to break free from his hold, climb onto the bed, kneel, part my thighs or even bend over and let him claim me fully from behind.
The hunger is terrifying. And intoxicating.
But the consequences are enough to drag me back to reality.
“No. Thank you,” I snap, choking down the desire. “Now fuck off.”
This time, he actually listens.
He releases my wrists and steps back calmly. I snatch the towel off the floor and wrap it around my burning skin.
“Alright then,” he says with a shrug, sliding his hands into his pockets. A slow, sinful smirk tugs at his lips. “You know where to find me when you eventually change your mind.”
And with that, he turns and walks out.
The door shuts behind him.
I drop onto the edge of the bed, my breath shaking out of me. I slap both hands against my face.
Stupid, stupid me!
How could I let him touch me like that? How could I enjoy it?
I grit my teeth and glare at the door.
That arrogant bastard must be dreaming the wildest fantasies if he thinks I’ll ever go to him willingly.
I’d rather die.