Filed to story: Reclaimed Book by Roxie Ray
But Steph had never really been interested in lingerie.
I pulled on a pair of comfortable cotton panties, then dug through his drawers and found one of his old Cole’s Garage shirts. I liked to sleep in those T-shirts, since they were so soft with wear and oversized. It helped that they all smelled faintly of Steph, too.
His eyes always gleamed gold when I wore his clothes. He thought I didn’t know how possessive his dragon was, but I did. And I loved it. It always made heat burn inside me.
I wanted him to possess me fully-and I wanted him to be mine, too.
In the steamy bathroom, I brushed out my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders. I peered at my reflection: my round cheeks, the bags under my eyes, the laugh lines forming at the corners of my mouth. The years had left their mark. I used to stress about it, tug at my skin, and wish I was five years younger and had been more diligent about using my retinol.
Since I’d come to Lakeview, those insecurities had melted away. It’d happened so subtly I hadn’t even noticed.
Steph made me feel beautiful. He didn’t just see my face and my body…he saw my soul.
I swept my hair to the side and tilted my head. Somewhere on this expanse of skin, he’d bite me and leave his mating mark.
Bonding us. Forever.
I couldn’t suppress my smile, nor the happy little wriggle in my shoulders. After all this time, all this waiting, all these hard, terrible times… We made it.
He was going to claim me.
The front door opened. “Harley?” Steph called from downstairs. “Dyl? You home? I don’t see Cassidy’s car outside.”
I padded out of the bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs. Though I was just wearing an old T-shirt, the same shirt I’d slept in many times, when Steph looked up at me, I felt more beautiful than I ever had.
That gold I loved so much flashed in his eyes as he gazed up at me like I was a queen and he was my subject. He drank in every inch of me, committing the image to memory: his gaze went from my face, over my breasts, then traced down the length of my legs all the way to my feet.
“Hi, babe,” I said with a smile. “Cassidy took Dylan to Striker’s for the night.”
“She did, hm?” Steph’s voice came out a low rumble. The pure want in his voice made heat roll slow and heady through my veins.
“Thought we could use some alone time,” I said. “You’ve been so good at following the doctor’s orders, you know.”
I knew it hadn’t been easy for him, either. We’d shared plenty of kisses, but every time his hands started to wander, I’d grabbed his wrists and pulled them away. I wasn’t going to risk us both getting swept up in passion and reopening the wound in his chest.
It’d made him growl with frustration each time, but it was the right thing to do.
“You waited,” I said, “and now you get your reward.”
I turned and pranced back into the bedroom, grinning to myself.
It worked. Steph’s feet pounded up the stairs as he raced to follow me. I’d barely made it into the bedroom before he tackled me onto the bed. I laughed as I hit the soft mattress his strong body. He growled a happy sound and nudged his nose against my nape and hairline. “You smell good.”
“You always say that.”
“You smell especially good today.”
“Yeah?” I rolled over beneath him and looped my arms around his neck. “It’s the shirt, isn’t it? You like that I smell like you.”
Steph’s eyes widened minutely, and his ears flushed red.
“You seriously thought I couldn’t tell?” I teased. “You thought you were being sneaky?”
“I can’t help it. It’s the perfect combination.” He tucked his face into my neck again and inhaled deeply, then followed it with a kiss.
I shivered with pleasure as his lips touched my skin.
“Harley,” he murmured, his voice suddenly low and serious, “Are we…?”
“Yes,” I said immediately. “I want you to claim me.”
He pulled back and met my gaze. His eyes were a burnished gold, a deeper color than I’d ever seen on him. It was intense, but beautiful. Desire rolled through me again, and I pressed my thighs together, suddenly desperate for any stimulation. My body needed him just as much as my heart did.
“I love you, Harley,” he said.
“I love you too, Steph. My mate.” I tilted my head to the side, just as I had in the mirror. “I’m ready.”
It was like a switch had flipped inside of him. He leaned back and pulled his shirt over his head, then tossed it aside. I touched his perfect, muscled, tattooed torso-impossible to resist all that inked skin on display-tracing over his abs, his obliques, up to his ribs and pecs.
I drew my hands over his chest until my fingertips found the fresh scar near his heart. I’d seen it countless times now. I’d changed the dressings as it healed, cleaned it, kissed the unmarred skin around it.
“Does it still hurt?” I asked quietly.
His expression softened. “Sometimes. The doctor said it might ache a little for the rest of my life. Not all the time, but sometimes.”
“I’m sorry. I wish you hadn’t been hurt like that.”
“It’s okay.” He folded his hand over mine and pressed my palm to the scar. “I don’t mind it. In a way, it’s like a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?” I asked. “Of that time you almost got killed because of me?”
“No,” he said firmly. I’d been teasing, but Steph’s voice was serious. “It reminds me that I made the right choice. That I protected my mate, at any cost. And I’d do it again, in a heartbeat.”
My heart stuttered. I pressed down harder on his chest, savoring the feeling of his heart beating steadily beneath my hand.
Still alive. Still with me.
“I’d prefer you not have to do it again. Ever.”
He smiled. “Me too. But I would.”
“I know you would.” I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back down. “My protector. My mate.”
He kissed me again. It started deep and slow, the warm press of his lips against mine. He pressed his chest to mine, covering me, and our kisses became deeper. More intense. More desperate.
He growled into my mouth, and I felt his fangs drop.
Fuck, that turned me on. I loved that I could have such an intense effect on him. I drew my tongue over his fangs as we kissed, and that only riled him up more.
In a flurry, we got out of our clothes. I tossed my T-shirt aside and flopped back on the bed as Steph got out of his jeans. I moved to take off my panties, but he stopped me with a hand on my wrist.
“No,” he said in a low growl. “I want to do that.”
He grabbed both of my wrists in one hand and pinned them to my belly. I gasped at the sensation-the pressure of his fingers around my wrists was firm and steadying, and sent a thrill down my spine. It made me feel… Safe.
