His chest is covered in a black and gray tattoo of a snarling wolf. Its fangs are biting down onto a bright red rose. The rest of his chest is covered with silhouettes of black trees and winding filigree. I’ve seen him without a shirt before, but I was too busy freaking the fuck out to really appreciate the caliber of art inked all over his massive body.
I barely stop myself from reaching out to trace it, remembering that I’m supposed to be finding the holes in his claiming accusation. It’s too soon. All of this just came out of nowhere. I have no idea what I’m doing on my best day, and now I’m just supposed to figure it out with four guys?
Except, none of my reasons feels as big as they once did.
So why am I really fighting this?
Ruger’s right. This isn’t about playing anymore.
His hand appears in front of my face, and I look up to see he’s offering it to me. I take it, letting him pull me up. We stand nearly touching, my face close to his chest, water dripping from our clothes and our limbs, eyes locked.
We’re on the edge of something—I can feel it skitter across my senses—but I don’t know which of us will be brave enough to leap first.
With a sigh that sounds almost like assent, I guide my hands to each side of his waist and lean my head against his hard chest.
I leap—even though I’m terrified.
Ruger runs a comforting hand over my hair and holds me against him, letting me simmer in his serenity.
“I don’t know if I’m losing myself or finally finding what’s always been missing,” I confess quietly.
His lips softly brush the top of my head, and I close my eyes and revel in the fluttering inside my stomach. My thumbs trace the outline of his ribs, and his breathing grows more shallow.
“How is it possible to feel so lost and so anchored at the same time?”
Ruger rests his warm cheek on my wet hair.
“I want to give you an answer that explains everything,” he tells me, his rich tone dripping over me like summer rain. “I want to tell you something that makes you feel better. But I’m not good at the flowery shit. You want Perth or Ellery for that,” he informs me, and I smile at his honesty. “I can’t pretend that I understand everything you’re going through, but I can tell you what I know.”
He lifts his hands to my face, his fingers threading through my hair as he tilts my head back until I’m staring up at him. His green eyes flit back and forth between mine, like he’s searching for something. I don’t know what he finds in my stare, but it makes his gaze settle and fill with a warm certainty.
“You’re mine, Noah. And whether you’re ready to see it or not, you’re Ellery’s. You’re Gannon’s. And you’re Perth’s.”
His declaration wraps around me like a warm hug. But I’m at a loss for words because I am ready to see it, even if I don’t know how to say that to him.
Ruger’s calm expression tells me he’s not expecting me to magically dig up the perfect words. Instead, he tugs at the bottom of my sopping hoodie, pulling it and my tank top over my head. It plops down on the black tile floor of the shower, and then he drops to his knees and proceeds to pull my socks off one by one. Looking up at me, his green eyes are alight with assurance and something deeper that calls to me on a primal level.
“That pull you experienced tonight. That undeniable need and rage that shot through you when you saw a threat to your claim? I’ve felt that from the moment you woke up and ran from us,” he confesses. “I’ve been crippled by worry that I’m going to lose you somehow. But I’m going to stop doing that now. You’re not fragile. You’re strong. This world isn’t going to break you. And I’m going to show you all the ways you fit right here,” he tells me, pressing a fist to his heart.
My entire body feels like it’s been dipped in warm marshmallow fluff. Ruger’s words stick to me in a way I know is going to change everything. With deft fingers, he pulls my wet leggings down my thighs, past my calves, and off my feet.
His large palms skim up my legs, reaching for my sides, his touch feather soft as he stands and moves closer. My breath hitches when he unexpectedly lifts a hand and wraps it around the front of my throat, gently squeezing. The move’s not threatening or painful; it’s almost like he’s showing me I’ve got you, you’re in capable hands.
The wolf in me fucking loves it.
He steps into my space, backing me up until I’m pinned against the cold tile of the shower wall. His towering, muscular body presses against mine as he traces his nose over the apple of my cheek, slowly breathing me in, scenting me.
A needy whimper flutters up my throat, and I squirm, rubbing my thighs together until Ruger drops a hand to cup my pussy through my panties. I gasp as he applies the faintest bit of pressure to his palm.
“You need to lead and sometimes you want to follow,” Ruger whispers against the shell of my ear before he nuzzles the side of my face. His other hand tightens around my throat before loosening again. “I can take whatever you want to give me, Noah. I can be hard when you need hard, and soft when you want soft,” he purrs against my jaw, his palm firmer against my clit, and his fingers start to stroke my folds over my wet panties softly. “Just tell me that you’re mine.”
I whimper at the feel of him, the dominant hold around my throat, the gentle strokes between my thighs. Longing dances across my skin, and I rub my cheek against his.
“I’m yours,” I whisper against his ear, and then his mouth is on mine, and I’m pulled deep into his passion and set alight from the inside out.
I groan into Ruger’s mouth and he inhales the lewd sound like it’s better than oxygen as he kisses me stupid. His fingers slide the crotch of my panties to the side and dip into my folds. With a needy mewl, I wrap my arms around his neck, and he drops his palm from my throat and lifts me with one hand so I can wrap my legs around his torso. His other hand never leaves my pussy, his long fingers seeking access to my core.
His mouth stamps ownership all over mine, and I happily hand over the deed. The way his tongue caresses mine and his lips devour me is addicting in all the best ways. He slips two fingers into me, growling with approval when I moan and grind down on them.
He pulls his mouth away from mine, panting against my fevered skin, and draws his fingers out of my pussy just to drive them back in again.
“You sure you’re not ready to be claimed, love?” Ruger growls against my lips, his mouth brushing against mine with each word. “Because your pussy is milking my fingers like you need it. Do you need more, Noah? Do you need me to show you how good it could be?”
I gasp and groan when he starts to finger me faster and harder, his palm clapping against my clit with each thrust.
“God, Ruger,” I pant, and he hums his appreciation.