Cinder's Wolf: A Shifter Retelling of Cinderella (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 2) by Sylvia Frost
Authors: Sylvia Frost
Ads: Link
wanted.
“Princess?” He stroked her spine, managing to find her bones under her flesh.
“Mmm.”
“I…” His finger stopped on the third vertebrae up from her neck. “Are you all right? What we did was intense.”
Desperately, Cynthia’s hand reached out and squeezed the one not touching her back. “I’m fine.”
His hand relaxed in hers. “Good.” He nuzzled into the small of her neck, smelling her more than kissing her. She sighed in response as his rich leathery scent sank into her skin. His body fit around hers perfectly.
Too perfectly. The way he had fucked her was the best sex of her life, but it also didn’t feel real somehow. As if he had tried to make love to her the way he should, the way he had to , instead of the way he wanted to. She may have let go, but he, she was absolutely certain, hadn’t.
Eventually, after a little more cuddling, he fell asleep. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there next to him, only that she counted the tolls of a faraway grandfather clock twice and he didn’t rouse either time. With every deep, even breath he took, his grip on her became looser and looser, until finally, she felt calm enough to scoot toward the edge of the bed. She looked over her shoulder at him.
He was a beautiful sleeper. His geometrically square jaw was made more human by the softness of sleep, his forehead unwrinkled. She wanted to touch the sensual bow of his lips, but that would wake him up.
All he asked you to do was stay.
For tonight. But how could she trust him when it seemed like he didn’t trust himself? He was so tightly wound. Eventually, that kind of tension had to release. Explode. Or worse, what if it didn’t? What if he unraveled slowly, consumed by the obsessive desire to work? Or what if he found another woman, someone could get him to let go?
No, better to leave now. If she did, she could keep the memory of this safe inside of her, unchanged. Perfect. Clean. Simple. So Cynthia smiled ruefully and brought two fingers to her lips, blowing him a silent kiss. Then, slipping back into her dress, she tiptoed out of his apartment, holding her heels tightly in her hand.
Chapter 13
R ex West couldn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep.
Like any werewolf who had found their mate, but not completed their bond, Rex had the luxury of replaying the same nightmare over and over again—the moment his mate ran away. It didn’t matter how many pills he took, his immune system was resistant to human medicine, and sleep was something no amount of money could buy.
But that morning, Rex woke up slowly. With his eyes still closed, he smiled. No, grinned like an fool. Last night, he’d had his first dreamless sleep in twelve years, and his whole body hummed with energy. Especially his cock.
The citrus scent of his mate and their mating filled his sheets and lingered on his skin. Rex opened his eyes and rolled over, ready to gather Cynthia close to him where she belonged.
But she wasn’t there.
Rex catapulted to the side of the bed, his heart pounding at speeds that would’ve killed a human. The is maroon duvet was pulled back to reveal cream-colored sheets and only an indent, an impression, of Cynthia’s curvy body. He ran his fingers over it.
There was no need to panic. Cynthia was probably showering or out on the terrace. The fact that her dress was gone from the floor was only a sign of her fastidious personality. She had no doubt packed it up somewhere and was wearing one of his shirts. Rex made the bed with a tug, tucking his sheets into the mattress with more force than was necessary. But he wouldn’t storm the house looking for her.
That would mean that he was worried. He wasn’t.
Not bothering to put on clothes, Rex strolled from the expansive comfort of his bedroom into his master bath. The room was free of steam, although Rex still opened up the glass double doors that led to his three-headed shower. She wasn’t there.
His smooth,
“Princess?” He stroked her spine, managing to find her bones under her flesh.
“Mmm.”
“I…” His finger stopped on the third vertebrae up from her neck. “Are you all right? What we did was intense.”
Desperately, Cynthia’s hand reached out and squeezed the one not touching her back. “I’m fine.”
His hand relaxed in hers. “Good.” He nuzzled into the small of her neck, smelling her more than kissing her. She sighed in response as his rich leathery scent sank into her skin. His body fit around hers perfectly.
Too perfectly. The way he had fucked her was the best sex of her life, but it also didn’t feel real somehow. As if he had tried to make love to her the way he should, the way he had to , instead of the way he wanted to. She may have let go, but he, she was absolutely certain, hadn’t.
Eventually, after a little more cuddling, he fell asleep. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there next to him, only that she counted the tolls of a faraway grandfather clock twice and he didn’t rouse either time. With every deep, even breath he took, his grip on her became looser and looser, until finally, she felt calm enough to scoot toward the edge of the bed. She looked over her shoulder at him.
He was a beautiful sleeper. His geometrically square jaw was made more human by the softness of sleep, his forehead unwrinkled. She wanted to touch the sensual bow of his lips, but that would wake him up.
All he asked you to do was stay.
For tonight. But how could she trust him when it seemed like he didn’t trust himself? He was so tightly wound. Eventually, that kind of tension had to release. Explode. Or worse, what if it didn’t? What if he unraveled slowly, consumed by the obsessive desire to work? Or what if he found another woman, someone could get him to let go?
No, better to leave now. If she did, she could keep the memory of this safe inside of her, unchanged. Perfect. Clean. Simple. So Cynthia smiled ruefully and brought two fingers to her lips, blowing him a silent kiss. Then, slipping back into her dress, she tiptoed out of his apartment, holding her heels tightly in her hand.
Chapter 13
R ex West couldn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep.
Like any werewolf who had found their mate, but not completed their bond, Rex had the luxury of replaying the same nightmare over and over again—the moment his mate ran away. It didn’t matter how many pills he took, his immune system was resistant to human medicine, and sleep was something no amount of money could buy.
But that morning, Rex woke up slowly. With his eyes still closed, he smiled. No, grinned like an fool. Last night, he’d had his first dreamless sleep in twelve years, and his whole body hummed with energy. Especially his cock.
The citrus scent of his mate and their mating filled his sheets and lingered on his skin. Rex opened his eyes and rolled over, ready to gather Cynthia close to him where she belonged.
But she wasn’t there.
Rex catapulted to the side of the bed, his heart pounding at speeds that would’ve killed a human. The is maroon duvet was pulled back to reveal cream-colored sheets and only an indent, an impression, of Cynthia’s curvy body. He ran his fingers over it.
There was no need to panic. Cynthia was probably showering or out on the terrace. The fact that her dress was gone from the floor was only a sign of her fastidious personality. She had no doubt packed it up somewhere and was wearing one of his shirts. Rex made the bed with a tug, tucking his sheets into the mattress with more force than was necessary. But he wouldn’t storm the house looking for her.
That would mean that he was worried. He wasn’t.
Not bothering to put on clothes, Rex strolled from the expansive comfort of his bedroom into his master bath. The room was free of steam, although Rex still opened up the glass double doors that led to his three-headed shower. She wasn’t there.
His smooth,
Similar Books
