Fated to My Mate's Uncle novel · Chapter 14 of 32

Chapter 14: First Night

We crossed the ford in the dark, side by side, holding the rope.

He didn't take my hand.

I didn't take his.

We both knew that if we touched, we wouldn't make it to the other bank.

The camp was loud.

Patsy had the fire pit going and a pot of stew on the coals, and the crew was eating.

Somebody had brought back the covered dish from the waitress.

It was peach cobbler.

The kid in the yellow shirt was guarding it with a fork.

"There they are," the medic said.

Twenty soot-black faces turned and looked at us.

Then at the space between us.

Then at each other.

"Don't," Fraser said.

"Didn't say anything," said the medic.

"You were going to."

"I was going to say good night." He raised his mug. "Good night, boss. Good night, Carys. Sleep well. Sleep all you like."

The whole fire pit went up in howls.

The gray-bearded wolf threw a log on the fire and said, to nobody, "About time."

Patsy came over and put two bowls of stew in our hands.

"Eat first," she said. "Then shower. Then do whatever you want, I'm going to bed and I'm putting my pillow over my head."

I laughed so hard I nearly dropped the stew.

We ate standing up.

I showered in the six minutes of hot water and put on the T-shirt he'd left hanging on the shower house door.

It came down to my thighs.

It smelled like his cabin.

I'd never been inside it.

He was waiting on his step, clean, barefoot, in jeans, with his hair wet.

He stood up when he saw me in his shirt.

He didn't say anything.

He opened the door.

It was one room with log walls.

An iron bed with a wool blanket. A woodstove. A shelf of paperbacks with broken spines. A cooler in the corner with a garbage bag inside it that neither of us looked at.

A window that looked across the river at the pack side.

He shut the door behind me and turned the bolt.

The click went through me.

"Door that locks," he said.

"Bed," I said.

"Whole night."

I turned around.

He was standing with his back against the door.

"You can still say no," he said. "Any minute of it. You say stop, I stop."

"I know."

"I need you to know."

"Fraser." I walked up to him. "I know."

I put my hand flat on his chest.

His heart was going like it had in the vault.

His heart pounded under my hand, and I felt the exact second he stopped breathing.

"You saved a school today," I said. "I watched you. I want you."

"Say it again."

"I want you." I fisted his shirt and pulled him off the door. "I want your cock. I want you to fuck me until I can't think about Gregor or this pack or anything but you."

His eyes went gold.

Mine did too.

I could feel it, that heat behind my eyes, the bond flaring like a struck match.

"Get on the bed," he said.

"No." I shoved him. "You get on the bed. You've been standing in doorways all day waiting for me to decide. I decided. Lie down."

He let me push him.

He sat on the edge of the iron bed, and I climbed into his lap, one knee on each side of his hips.

The wool blanket was rough under my shins.

He looked up at me.

"Bossy," he said.

"You like it."

"I do." His hands went to my hips, and his thumbs dug in just above the bone. "I like it too much. I've thought about this. About you in my shirt, in my bed."

"Since when?"

"Since the first night you slept in my cabin and I didn't."

I leaned down and kissed him.

He kissed me back like he'd been holding his breath for eight years.

His mouth was hot, and he tasted like smoke and river water, and he kissed like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and was going to take his time getting it.

I rocked against him.

He was hard under his jeans, and the friction made me gasp into his mouth.

"Tell me what you want," he said against my lips.

"I want you inside me."

"Not yet."

"Fraser."

"Not yet." He slid his hands up under the T-shirt, and his palms were rough and warm on my bare skin. "I've waited eight years. I'm going to touch every inch of you first."

"Then touch me."

He pulled the T-shirt over my head and threw it on the floor.

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