Walking to the door, she stubbed her toe on a box. “Sh—“ she stopped herself from cursing for Mrs. Marley’s sake. She was the sweetest old lady, and Kerrigan didn’t want to upset her.
She hobbled the rest of the way to the door, and swung it open without looking, focused on her wounded toe instead.
“Hey.” The soft, gruff voice froze her. “You okay?”
Kerrigan turned to see the face that had been invading every thought for the past four days. Her mouth went dry, but she managed to squeak out a “yes”.
He looked like a dream-come-true, with his hair hanging loose over his forehead, and his leather jacket open to reveal the t-shirt pulled tight over his chest. Kerrigan knew she looked like crap: frizzy hair, dingy yoga pants, holey shirt… no bra. Oh, god. This was not good.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure.” She turned and left the door for him to close. “I should probably go change. If you’ll just give me a second. Have a seat if you want. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you need—“
“What is all this?”
She turned to see his troubled expression. “I’m just packing.”
“Packing? For what?” He’d stopped in his tracks, back as stiff as a rail.
“I’m moving. My job was eliminated, and I can’t find another one, so…”
He stood there staring at her, as if he couldn’t comprehend her words. His face kept shifting from angry to confused to sad.
“Moving… away?”
She nodded.
“To where?”
Kerrigan looked away. “I’m going home. To Alaska.”
“Alaska?” His voice boomed, making her flinch. He looked like all the air had been sucked out of him with that one word.
“Yes. Alaska.”
“When?”
“Next Thursday.”
“When were you going to tell me?” His voice was accusatory, but his face contained so much sadness, it was hard to look at. Kerrigan didn’t understand it. What the hell did he have to be sad about? He was the one who hadn’t kept his promise. Except, now he had.
“Whenever you decided to come back, I guess,” she snapped out of frustration. “It’s not like I had your phone number, or even realized you might care what I did with my life.”
He was completely silent, glaring, as seconds ticked by. Kerrigan wanted to scream. What was this? First, she doesn’t hear from him for days, then he shows up, acting mad/sad/crazy with zero explanation. They both needed a breather.
“I’ll be back in a minute, okay, and we’ll talk. I’m going to change my clothes.”
Kerrigan turned toward her bedroom, but was stopped by three growled words: “Don’t. You. Dare.”
***
Trager was overcome with emotions, and none of them were good. His mate was leaving? Moving to a place more than halfway across the continent. The mere idea of her being so far out of his reach had him in a full-blown panic. His wolf wasn’t helping either. He wanted out, wanted to mark her, claim her, so she couldn’t get away.
She couldn’t move now. Not when they hadn’t even had a chance to see what would happen between them.
The most horrifying thing was, this was just a taste of what would happen in the future. This feeling, this wretched aching in his bones, it was a mere hint of what would happen if she completely rejected him.
He had to think. Had to find a way to make her stay.
In the past, when Trager was faced with an impossible situation, he’d relied on his animal instinct. It hadn’t failed him yet. There was only one thing to do.
Stalking to her, he watched her eyes widened and lips part. His arms went around her, at the same time his mouth crushed hers in a terror-fueled kiss. Her taste was divine. Just as he remembered, but made all the more sweeter by the way she melted against him, her curves pressed against his hard planes.
Her thin, hole-riddled shirt was the only thing separating him from the body he’d been dreaming about. When she’d opened the door, the first thing he’d noticed was her breasts… and the fact that there was no bra. God.
He ran his hands down her back, finding the hem of her shirt. His lips worked hers slowly, firmly, as his thumb slid underneath her shirt to find her smooth skin. His hand went higher and higher, committing the sensation of her softness to memory. Just in case…
No. He wouldn’t think like that.
He brought his hand to her hip, squeezing, kneading her flesh, before traveling upward to her ribs.
Kerrigan gasped and pulled away. “Not there,” she said, breathless. “You don’t want to touch there.”
Trager frowned. “I want to touch everywhere.”