Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Or maybe it was simply that I felt what Wes did–that he was “the one.” Fate had interceded when it chose Wes to move next door.
As an artist, I’d trusted in fate. When I first started throwing pots and wanted to make a living out of it, I put it out to the Universe. I figured if it was meant to be, they’d sell. If I earned enough from the pottery to quit my job slinging beer at Cody’s, that would be a sign I was on the right path. Over time, I’d been able to quit my job.
I wasn’t making six figures or anything, but I made enough for a down payment on my house. I made enough to make it a full-time gig.
Therefore, I believed now that fate had brought me the one man made for me. The one who I “fit” with. Who got me. Who I felt at home with from the first moment I saw him, even when he was being a grouchy ass.
Was it fast? Yes. Ridiculously so. If a friend of mine said she met a guy the other day, they were in love, and wanted to get his name tattooed permanently on her body, I’d tell her to pump those brakes.
Except, I just… knew, and I didn’t have an inner wolf or a super scenter.
I just wanted Wes. And Remy.
Wes dropped the towel to the floor and scooped me up into his arms.
“Mine,” he growled as he carried me to his bedroom.
My pussy clenched. I absolutely loved that assertion.
I loved the idea of being his. I wanted him to be mine in return.
I tried on the idea of moving in here with him permanently. Of co-parenting Remy. Of giving her siblings.
It all felt perfect.
I could turn my house into an entire art studio. Maybe I could even use the living area as a “showroom” and sell directly from my house.
I was getting ahead of myself.
Maybe I should pump those brakes in my mind.
Wes laid me on my back and studied my face. “Now you’re freaking out.”
“Not freaking out,” I admitted as I shook my head. “Just wondered if it’s going too fast.”
He traced his fingertip around my nipple. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything. Not with me. If you want me to wait to mark you, I will. I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life proving to you that I’m worthy of being your mate, if that’s what it takes. I just want you near me. Part of our lives.”
My eyes misted up, and I reached for his face, pulling him down for a kiss. “It’s not that, I just…”
He straddled my waist, gently manacling my wrists and pinning them beside my head. I loved feeling trapped by him. Trapped meant safe. “Tell me.”
I arched my tits up, wanting more of his touch because the position he had me in turned me on.
“Tell me everything you’re afraid of. Let’s get it all out on the table, so we know what we’re dealing with.”
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if my fears had names or were even rational.
“I’ll go first,” he said. “I’m scared the wolf thing will freak you out. That you’ll decide it’s not for you. I’m scared you’ll find it too much with me being a package deal with Remy.” He glanced away for a second then back. “And…I’m scared Remy will get hurt. That she’ll get attached to you, and then if things don’t work out, it will break her heart even more than not having a mom who broke her heart.”
My eyes teared up for him. For Remy. For the moment of vulnerability. He was so incredible and brave to share with me. His fears were reasonable and made sense.
He seemed to realize it was not the moment for bondage because he released my wrists and let me wrap my arms around his neck to hold him.
It was easier to talk with my lips against his neck, my face hidden. “I’m afraid…I don’t know–that I’m being impulsive or irrational. That if things don’t work out, people will judge me for rushing in. I know that’s stupid to worry about what other people think, but–”
His thumb stroked my cheek. “It’s not stupid. I get it. What else? I want to hear every last reservation.”
“Okay…” This suddenly became a game we were in together instead of a crisis of big decisions.
Wes settled us on our sides, facing each other, then ensured the blanket was pulled up over our bare skin.
“What if you’re catfishing me?” I giggled at the absurdity of the idea. I’d known Rob and Boyd Wolf and most of the guys on the ranch forever. Wes was one of their friends. He wasn’t some rando guy making a play for me with an ulterior motive. But just saying it out loud cleared any shadow of worry I had.