“Or this?” And he moved his hips, sliding his cock along my stomach.
“Both! Stop everything!” I moaned. I was liquid with desire, and he was tormenting me. How long could I resist him? Did I even want to any more? Why exactly was I trying to fight him off? I couldn’t remember.
“Okay. Just so we’re clear.”
And to my shock and dismay, he stood up. He was rock hard, and I could smell the animal musk of his arousal pouring off him, but he climbed to his feet and reached down to help me up.
Numb with surprise and confusion, I let him pull me to my feet.
“They have clothes at the finish line, in case we want them,” he said, and without a word, he turned and trotted off.
I followed him to where one of Max’s cousins was waiting for us. He handed us clothing and I pulled on a t shirt and sweatpants, and not looking at Max. I felt mortified. My squirming and moaning had given me away, and no doubt he could scent my arousal just as I could scent his. He knew I wanted him – and he’d pretty much rejected me.
Was this his revenge on me for tricking him into marriage – getting me all turned on and then pulling back, and secretly laughing at me? Or had he just said been respectful of my wishes?
Somehow, I felt that if he really wanted me, he’d have tried a little harder. He’d said that the ceremony included Claiming the bride as soon as he’d chased her down, and he hadn’t even bothered. That pretty much meant I hadn’t been Claimed, didn’t it?
Big surprise. My mother’s words echoed in my brain from when I was a child. “A man just won’t love a woman who looks like us, Josephine, better get used to it. He’ll use us for sex, sure, but he’ll never marry us. A one night stand, that’s the best I can ever hope for.” I’d felt sick and queasy when she talked like that back then, and I felt sick and queasy now.
I had to face it. It was pretty clear that he didn’t really want me. Sure, he was physically turned on, but he was also a young, healthy male wolf shifter. It wouldn’t take much to turn him on.
Maxwell winked at his brother. “We’re headed back to the wedding suite,” he said.
“Of course you are. See you tomorrow.”
“Don’t insult me, man. If you’re lucky you’ll see me Monday.”
My head was in a whirl. I felt as if there was something he wasn’t telling me, some game that he was playing, but I couldn’t figure out what.
I looked out the window as we drove, feeling both sulky and ridiculous. The problem was, my body wanted one thing and my mind wanted another. I knew what needed to happen – I needed to leave. I needed to go back to my apartment, and my big empty bed, and stop pretending I could be married to an incredibly hot Alpha with a rich, powerful family.
This was much harder than I’d ever imagined. It hurt me all the way to the bone. I didn’t regret it for a minute, though. Camille was in love with someone else, and no matter how hot Maxwell was, she would never have been happy married to him.
At the big stone lodge, he swept me up in his arms and carried me over the threshold. Only a shifter would have been able to do that.
Still, I knew what I needed to do.
When he set me down, I grabbed my purse.
“I’m going to use the restroom. I need to freshen up,” I said, and rushed down the hall without looking at him. I slammed the door shut behind me and locked it.
“Hurry back,” he called out.
I quickly texted Bess. “I need you to meet me at the Gas N Gulp in half an hour,” I told her.
Then I texted Camille. I hoped she was somewhere safe and able to get my text. “The deed is done. I’m about to run off. You need to keep running and don’t look back. Also you need to get pregnant during the full moon so your Uncle can’t force you to come back. Good luck!”
I wrote on the bathroom mirror in eyeliner “I can’t do this! I’m sorry.” Tears burned my eyes and ran down my cheeks.
I climbed out of the bathroom window and dropped to the ground, with my purse. I quickly rolled up the sweatshirt and pants I’d been wearing, stuffed them in my purse, and hung my purse strap from my neck.
Then I shifted, and ran like the wind.
Chapter Six
For short periods of time, wolves can sprint at 35 miles an hour or so, although we more commonly lope along at a leisurely 5 to 7 miles an hour.
This was a time to sprint. I ran like a bat out of hell until I’d reached the road near the Gas N Gulp. The road where I came out was a quarter mile from my destination. It was a narrow ribbon of road hemmed in by towering pine trees that swayed in the wind. I trotted to the roadside…and was shocked to see Maxwell’s truck pulling up. Should I run? I wondered. What could he possibly want?