Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate by Caroline Above Story

#Chapter 324 But Why Would You Want To?

Cora

I drop my hand from the doorknob, suddenly, making a split decision and not letting myself think too hard about what I’m doing and why. Then, I strip my wet shirt and leggins from my body, grabbing a dry towel off of the shelf and wrapping it around myself. My skin is grateful for this, wanting to be free and dry, but my anxiety rises as I tuck the towel into itself above my bra so that it will hold itself together.

I close my eyes as I grasp the door knob again, exhaling a deep breath and then pushing it open, striding back into the room.

A little pulse of satisfaction runs though me as I see Roger do a double–take at my appearance. He has laid himself back on the bed in the same position he took before – shoulders against the headboard, one leg casually bent at the knee and propped on the mattress, the other foot on the floor. He watches me steadily as I swiftly cross the room, coming to the other side of the bed and primly sitting myself down on it, my whole back against the headboard. I pull my legs up, wrapping my arms around my knees and staring steadily at the blank television screen.

“Does the tv work?” I ask, my voice shaking a little despite myself.

“I…don’t know…” Roger replies, his tone curious. “Do you want me to try it?”

“Mmmhmm!” I say, my hum an octave higher than it would usually be. Slowly, Roger stands up and moves to the TV, treating me to the opportunity to scan the broad muscles of his back, which sweep downward to a trim waist. He even has two little dimples on either side of his spine right above his perfect a*s…

I grit my teeth to keep from making any noise, giving him any indication of what seeing him undressed like this makes me want to do to him. Roger reaches out and twists the dial on the TV, but there’s no reaction from it. He tries the other two, but the tv stays stubbornly dark. Then, too slowly, Roger turns to me,

I inhale, sharply, when I see the way that he looks at me beneath his lowered brows. His face is serious, and a muscle in his cheek flickers, letting me know that he’s clenching his teeth, holding back from…something. But the darkness in his eyes, the intensity there…

“No such luck,” he purrs, dropping his hand from the television and focusing his entire attention on me. It falls on me like a real weight on my chest and I feel my breathing deepen, fighting

“Oh,” I say, something in me screaming at the lameness of that response.

Roger doesn’t say anything. He just begins to prowl back across the room, heading – my breath

catches to see – not back to his side of the bed, but to mine. He stops about three feet from me,

slowly lowering himself to sit on the mattress next to me. He puts a hand out to rest on the sheets,

a few inches from my feet, and leans forward towards me.

Roger doesn’t touch me at all, but he doesn’t need to. The space between us in this moment is

thick with electricity, with a palpable intensity that may as well be his wolf’s tongue licking up

me right now. I realize, suddenly, that I’m panting

my parted lips, as I hear the growl beginning to resonate in

out then, slowly, as if to a startled hare, but I don’t move.

the headrest, every inch of me tensed as if to run, but

me, every inch of it a

touch me, just once – when suddenly, a spark – a literal spark – flies between

my lower

suddenly at the unexpected pain of it, my hand flying to

pulls his hand back, looking at it.

us to take form to

at his hand, my

—

through memories in an instant – first I see him, Roger, crying in my arms when he thought his brother was dead – and then to me, running out to check and see if he had left on that mission to the expression on his face as he held me safe to those days on the ship, when he hadn’t touched me, but had let me know every day with his eyes, with his steady presence, that he was mine, waiting for me,

–

I remember, again, the absolute heartache in the weeks after when he didn’t call – when I’d stay up at night, staring at the blackened screen of

—

I’d cried myself to sleep

I actually groan when I remember Hank, and I put my face in my hands, my shoulders hunching with shame. Hank, who has been so sweet and patient with me. I know that he knows something had been between me and Roger – and he gave

with his soft lips, who turned out to

thought of Roger’s

everything that pa*sed between us

–

a sob ripping from my throat.

despite my face buried in my

attention on me again.

—

whispers, his voice

I’m on my feet,

outside to

his own feet in

fast-

which hangs open behind