Don't Touch Him! He's Not An Alpha, He's My Patient novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Not Your Patient

I looked at his hand.

"Your heart stopped last night."

"It's going now."

He took my hand and pressed it flat against his chest.

His heart was hammering under my palm.

"Feel that? That's not the wolfsbane."

I laughed, and it came out wobbly.

"You're supposed to rest."

"I rested for five years, Freja. I'm done resting."

Arlene came puffing up the path from the lake right then with her boots soaked to the ankles.

She looked at my hand on his chest.

She looked at his face.

She turned around on the spot.

"I'm going into town," she announced to the cedars. "For groceries. Lots of groceries. It's a long drive. Don't wait up."

Her truck went down the hill in a spray of gravel.

Wylie watched it go.

"I've always loved that woman."

Then he pulled me inside by my hand and shut the door with his heel.

The cottage was full of low gold light from the west window.

He backed me up against Gran's kitchen table and kissed me, slow and thorough, his hands on either side of my face.

Not like the pool.

In the pool he'd kissed me with desperate, drowning hunger.

Here, he was taking his time.

I dragged his flannel shirt open and put my hands on his bare chest, over his heart, and felt it jump.

He made a low rough sound and pressed his forehead to mine.

"Tell me you want this," he said. "Not as my healer. As you."

"I've wanted it since you said I sing badly in the bath."

"You do."

"Wylie."

"Yes, ma'am."

I pulled my sweater over my head and dropped it on the floor.

Gran's pearls lay cool against my bare collarbones.

He looked at me for so long I felt it on my skin.

Then he bent his head and kissed the pearls, one at a time, down toward my breasts.

He unhooked my bra with one hand and pulled the straps down my arms.

The pearls swung against my bare skin.

He kissed the hollow of my throat.

Then his mouth closed over my nipple and sucked, slow and mean, and the pearls dragged across his cheek with every pull.

I made a sound I didn't recognize.

"Wylie."

He moved to the other breast and did it again.

His tongue flicked over me while his hand cupped the breast he'd left, rough and warm.

"Four years I've wanted to hear you say my name like that," he said against my skin.

"Say it more."

I buried my fingers in his black hair and pulled.

"I'll say it when you're inside me."

He groaned and bit down gently on the swell of my breast.

Then he straightened and looked at me with those dark eyes gone nearly black.

"Then unbutton my jeans, Freja. You want it, you take it."

I did.

My hands shook on the button and then I had him in my hand, hot and hard, and his whole body went tight.

"Fuck," he breathed.

"I want you inside me," I said, plain as I knew how. "Now. On this table."

He lifted me onto the edge of Gran's kitchen table like I weighed nothing.

The wood was cool under my bare ass.

He peeled my jeans down my legs and my underwear with them, and my socks stayed on.

Then he knelt on the floorboards where Gran used to stand.

He pushed my knees wide and looked at me.

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