As my fingers caressed the fine carvings on the skirt my mind raced with the mental image of him sitting on it, the leather snugged up against the curve of his ass, the sculpted muscles of his thighs gripping the powerful beast beneath him the way mine had gripped him. Warmth washed through me, coloring my cheeks and making a thin finger of sweat trickle down my spine. Sure, I hadn’t been getting any action on a regular basis until Holbrook swept into my life a few days ago, but my hormones were running even wilder than normal. What was it about this man that turned my hormones up to eleven?
Has it really been that long since I got close to someone? I thought, and then realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I had shared something with someone besides a quick romp that had left me feeling dirty. I knew I’d become a bit of an introvert but I was getting the sense that at some point I’d switched over to being a recluse.
At least I haven’t started hoarding cats. Yet.
Holbrook had been the first man in a long time that I’d been attracted to for more than just his cute ass.
Though his ass is damn fine.
“Not too often since I joined the agency, but I rode a lot as a kid. I grew up on a ranch, so I think I knew how to ride horse before I learned how to ride a bike,” he replied from the kitchen, oblivious to the thoughts running rampant in my mind. “How about you? Do you ride?”
“What? Oh…no, I’ve never really been comfortable around horses. They always seemed so big,” I answered, shaking off my lonely thoughts, deciding that they deserved closer examination at a later date.
Horses had intimidated me when I was growing up, their massive size and unknown strength terrifying to a kid that was always on the small side. There had been plenty of kids in the area whose families had horses, and I’d been invited several times to go riding, but the powerful animals had scared me in a truly visceral way, so I’d always come up with some lame excuse about why I couldn’t go. Eventually they’d stopped asking. I guess even then I’d had trouble being around people.
“Seems kinda silly now, seeing as I could probably take one down in a matter of seconds,” I added, the words slipping from my mouth without a thought.
It was the uncomfortable silence that followed that clued me in to the fact that I’d said something wrong. Looking up from where my fingers were stroking the saddle, I found Holbrook staring at me from the kitchen, his eyes wide while his mouth hung open in surprise. A spatula was hanging limp and forgotten in his hand as if he’d been frozen. Running back over my words in my mind I blushed again, this time in mortification.
“Fuck!” I hissed under my breath. “Sorry, sometimes I don’t think about the crap that comes out of my mouth. My Nana always said I had a chronic case of verbal diarrhea.”
“It’s alright, it just um…caught me off guard, you know?” he tried to reassure me, but I glimpsed the shadow of discomfort in his eyes before he turned his gaze back to the eggs in the pan.
Well done, jackass, I scolded myself, grimacing at the expression on his face. This is why you can’t have nice things.
“I’m…ah…gonna go take a shower,” I said as I beat a hasty retreat to his bedroom, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers and hide away until the whole mess had blown over. I figured that shouldn’t take more than a decade or two.
“You’re not hungry?” he called after me. Was that a hint of relief coloring his voice?
“Not really. I’ll grab something later,” I replied, unable to turn around and face him, afraid that I’d see disgust on his face again, or worse yet, that he’d see the hurt on mine.
Darting into the bedroom, I shut the door behind me and sagged back against the wood. Fighting the ache of frustration blooming in my chest, I felt like such an idiot for saying something so stupid, but even more for believing that something might finally be going my way.
I should have known it would only be a matter of time before I screwed things up.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I growled through gritted teeth, refusing to give in to tears again. I was tired of feeling weak and victimized, the lingering pain from Johnson’s attack fueling the anger burning hot in my gut.
“Fuck tears, I’m tired of being afraid.” I curled my hands into tight fists at my sides until my nails bit into the flesh of my palms. Focusing on the pain, I locked away my fear. I could fall apart once it was all over.
With anger fueling my movements, I stripped off my t-shirt and panties in stiff, jerking motions. Removing the bandages Alyssa had trussed me up in took a little more time, and a lot more grimacing and cursing. Finally naked, I stalked into the adjoining bathroom, vowing to wash away the last of my fear. I wasn’t going to let anyone make me feel helpless again.
I’m a werewolf, dammit, and the world had better watch out. This bitch bites.
***