“Deep down, I don’t think it’s wrong, with you, but with them…” My words falter once more, but Lycan steps closer. He doesn’t touch me, not yet, but he does offer strength even from inches away.
I meet those green eyes that are currently regarding me with breathtaking emotion. He’s always stolen my moans and whimpers, but right now, he’s stealing my thoughts.
“With you it’s right.”
“Then don’t question it. Most people deny themselves pleasure because they listen to what society tells them. You’re not hurting anyone. You’re not hurting me. And if I were to ever cross a line, you have to tell me.”
Shaking my head, I speak, “You wouldn’t, but if I ever felt the need to stop our play, I will. I just spent years feeling guilty for getting turned on.”
“You shouldn’t feel that way,” Lycan tells me. “For years I thought being domineering over a woman was abuse, until I learned there are ways to enjoy yourself without hurting anyone. Safe spaces.”
A small smile cracks my lips, and I nod. “Okay.” My stomach growls even louder, causing Lycan to chuckle. “I guess I should eat.”
He nods. Leaving me on the counter, I watch as he creates a fresh sandwich, and hands it to me once it’s steaming. Lycan watches me eat, and once I’m done, he takes the plate and places it in the dishwasher before closing the distance between us.
His hands grip my thighs as he pulls me closer, stepping between my spread legs. His mouth at mine, inches from me, as he whispers, “Now it’s time for my dinner.” And the low, huskiness of his tone tells me he’s probably not having what I just did.
With a squeal, I wrap my legs around his waist, and my arms twine around his neck as he lifts me once more and makes his way out of the kitchen. We head up the stairs to our bedroom, which I’ve asked him about redecorating, so it actually looks like our room, not just his.
When my ass bounces on the mattress, I realize I’m in for a long night. One that will make me forget about my heartache, and have me feeling like I’m completely, and utterly claimed and possessed by my own prince charming, even if he is a rabid wolf.
Epilogue
Lycan
One month later
It’s time to put the past to bed. It has been for a long time, but now that I’m readying myself to be a father, I can’t continue to allow history to walk in and fuck up my family. Walking into Heaven, I take in the clientele, all dressed to the nines, and each person looking as if they’d entered their own personal sanctuary.
I find the woman I’m looking for at the bar. I figured that’s where she’d be. In the corner, slinking away one of her signature martinis, the familiar eyes that I held so dear years ago glance up to find me.
“Lycan,” she murmurs seductively. And if it weren’t for Scarlett giving me all I need, being my wife, a mother to my unborn children, I would have considered Yasmine. But I found love. I found happiness, and my need for the woman before me is no longer there. It’s as if my little red extinguished a flame, and I’m thankful for it.
“Yasmine,” I greet her. “I was looking for you.”
“Oh?” She arches a brow, her gaze taking me in from head to toe. “It’s good to see you without that flimsy little girl you were parading around.”
Anger surges through me, but I swallow it down. I slip my hand in my pocket and pull out the gift my brother left me after he shot me. When Kahn found the truck, he told me Darius had left a hint as to what he wanted. The small, square photos were taken on a disposable. Even though Yasmine denied being with my brother when I first questioned her all those years ago, Darius had filmed their escapades. The photos are snapshots he’d printed out from those videos, which I’m almost fucking certain he still has.
I don’t know if it was his way of apologizing for all the shit he’d caused, but now, I’m thankful he gave them to me. I drop them on the counter in front of her, and I watch as Yasmine’s face turns into a mixture of anger, shame, and guilt.
“Lycan, I can explain,” she starts, dropping to her heels from the bar stool, following me when I turn away from her. My feet carry me to one of the VIP booths, and I settle on the velvet sofa.
“There’s no need to explain,” I murmur before lifting me hand, and signaling to one of the waiters to bring me a bourbon. When I look at Yasmine again, I smile. But it’s not a friendly gesture, it’s one of pity. “I’m done playing your games. This run around you enjoy so much, it’s over. It has been for a while; I just didn’t have the time to come here and speak to you.”