I bite down on the curve of her shoulder, not hard enough to mark, but enough to make her moan, to remind her that this is real, that we're here, that neither of us is hiding now. Her fingers twist in my hair, pulling just this side of pain, anchoring me to her as if she's afraid I'll disappear if she loosens her grip for even a second.
This isn't lovemaking. It's a fight we're waging with our bodies, a battle of wills where neither of us is willing to surrender first. We’re proving something to each other—something we can’t articulate, something too raw for words,something that claws its way out of us in gasps and bruises and the slick, desperate slide of skin on skin.
But the moment I'm buried inside her, something shifts.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispers, suddenly softer.
“Like what?”
“Like I matter to you.”
“You do,” I admit, wrecked. “More than you should.”
The natural intimacy between us, the one we’ve been denying, flares to life like a struck match. It’s not just the sex—it’s the way the walls between us crumble the second I’m sheathed inside her, the way we cling to each other like we’re starving, like the other is the only thing keeping us from coming undone.
When Ellie comes, it’s with a choked sob, her body clenching around me in waves that drag me under with her, pulling me deeper than I thought possible. My release follows hard and fast, a wave of pleasure so intense it borders on pain, leaving me shuddering against her, my muscles locked tight as the world narrows to the feel of her beneath me.
I slump forward, my forehead pressed to hers, both of us gasping for air like we’ve just survived something far greater than ourselves—something that might just destroy us if we let it.
“We shouldn’t have…” she starts.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “But I’m not sorry.”
Her fingers tighten in my hair. “Neither am I.”
Silence hangs between us. Not comfortable. Not catastrophic.
Just honest.
The silence morphs though, and what follows is louder than any argument. I carefully slide off of her, my body already missing the heat of hers. She won’t look at me, arms crossed over her breasts as she stares at the ceiling just to the side of my gaze.
Nothing’s solved. If anything, the tangled mess between us just got more complicated.
Instead of reaching for her again, I take a step back.
"I'll have someone watch the building tonight. Make sure this doesn't happen again."
Her face is carefully blank, and I know I've failed some test I didn't even realize I was taking.
"Of course. More watching. More protection I didn't ask for." She yanks a throw around her, moving toward the door, making it clear the conversation is over. "Thank you for your time, Sheriff Hart. I'm sure you have more important things to do than… hold my hand through a simple break-in."
The dismissal stings more than it should. I want to explain, to tell her that keeping her safe is the most important thing I've ever done, that the thought of her in danger makes my wolf howl with protective fury.
Instead, I nod once and head for the door.
"Lock this behind me. And Ellie?" I pause on the threshold, not quite able to look back at her. "Be careful who you trust."
The door closes behind me with a soft click, followed immediately by the decisive sound of the deadbolt sliding home. I stand in the hallway for a moment, listening to her move around inside, every instinct screaming at me to go back, to stay close, to stop pretending I can protect her from a distance.
But the alternative is telling her the truth, and the truth would put her in more danger than she's already facing.
So I walk away, leaving her alone with her fear and her questions and her growing certainty that I'm not the ally she needs.
The mate bond stretches thin as I put distance between us, a constant ache that reminds me with every step just how badly I'm failing her.
17
ELLIE