Page 27 of Rehabilitated

I chop vegetables, start the pasta, and stir the sauce. I try to remain calm and not give in or think about my mate, naked and wet, one floor above.

I fail.

My bear refuses to cooperate. Mate, he grumbles.

“I know,” I say impatiently.

Mate, he repeats stubbornly.

“Jesus,” I growl.

I’m determined to ignore him and my desires. I focus on making the best dinner for my mate and me. I’m aware of the water turning off upstairs, of my mate moving around our bedroom.

Eventually, Ever comes downstairs wearing one of my oversized T-shirts, her damp hair falling over one shoulder. She smiles shyly when she sees me.

I glance desperately at the clock. Another hour and a half.

Fuck!

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I look at her for a long moment. Is she not feeling the same way? I’m dying over here, and she looks fresh as a daisy. I study her closely, noticing her flushed cheeks, pebbled nipples, the sweet scent of her arousal, and the sweat breaking out on her forehead. She’s not unaffected by me or the full moon. She’s just better at hiding it.

“Russo? Are you okay?”

“Barely,” I rasp, earning a laugh from her. “Dinner is ready.”

I pull out her chair for her and set her plate in front of her, grabbing us each a glass of water before I join her at the table.

Dinner is unusually quiet—not awkward, but I can tell that we’re both concentrating too hard on not jumping the other at the table to make small talk.

Our knees brush beneath the table, and it feels like being electrocuted. Ever inhales sharply.

“Fuck, I need you,” I growl.

“When?” she pants.

“Soon.”

She nods, looking dazed.

I hurry to finish eating, then stand to clean up. She moves to help, and I try to put some distance between us as I rinse the dishes and pass them to her to load in the dishwasher. We finish picking up in silence. Once we’re done, we stare at each other, unsure what to do next.

“So…” I begin.

“So,” she echoes.

Neither of us finishes the sentence. Instead, she steps closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her.

She searches my face for a minute, then clears her throat. “I can’t wait any longer.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Me neither.”

“Is it time?” she asks hopefully.

I look at the clock. “Close enough.”

We both move at the same time, crashing together, our hands clinging to each other as our lips meet.