I pulled on one of Grim’s large shirts. Although he’d ordered dozens of pajamas for me, I liked how he smelled.
I blow dried my hair, brushing it with care. I’d never had the desire to look good, especially when I worked, but the idea of Grim coming home to the apartment seemed so domestic.
Sure, he was coming home after killing my rapist, but a part of me wanted to look good when he came home.
I waited thirty more minutes until I got antsy. Sitting wasn’t my thing, and Grim had made me lazy over the weeks.
I trudged to the fridge, bending over to grab some eggs. I could make him a tasty omelet. Surely I wouldn’t burn the apartment down with something as simple as that?
I grabbed some vegetables, pulling the knife from the drawer and began to cut, but an overwhelming deep pine scent engulfed me. I pulled up Grim’s shirt to my nose, taking tantalizing breaths.
His scent was there, though faintly. This scent I was smelling was far more potent. I put down the knife, walking toward the door on my bare feet. My clit throbbed suddenly, and I raised my hand to steady myself on the counter.
Another deep breath and the pounding of feet coming from the stairs outside made my heart flutter.
Grim was coming home, and I sensed his presence.
How could I do that? I’d never heard anyone come up the stairs before? My body paused, the throbbing in my clit continuing as my wetness coated my inner thighs.
I moaned softly, picturing Grim bending me over the counter. I grabbed my breast, pinching the nipple to ease the pain of desire.
The door flung open with a bang. Grim’s eyes instantly met mine.
Blood stained his clothes, and he breathed heavily.
“Journey,” he said, ragged. “I need you.”
Chapter Thirty One
Journey
Grimwascoveredinblood, mostly on the front of his shirt and down his pants. I didn’t need to know whose blood it was. I knew where it came from.
Grim’s eyes burned, the deep red embers heated with not just anger but passion. The bulge in his pants grew, and he immediately gripped his length through his jeans.
“Journey,” he growled.
I still stood in the same spot—right next to the fridge, with the low kitchen island behind me. I wasn’t scared of this beastly man with an animal clawing at him from the inside; I was turned on.
The heat of his breath could be felt from feet away. My nipples pebbled against the worn-out t-shirt he used to lounge in. My thighs quaked with a need I had never felt before.
“Journey,” he pleaded.
My knees buckled once my back reached the island. My arm held me in place as he approached. Those heavy steps, the straps of leather tightening and loosening as he walked, made the wetness pool between my thighs.
Grim took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring and his eyes darting straight between my legs.
He ripped off his blood-covered shirt. It, surprisingly, kept him clean underneath. The scent of metal and copper dissipated, and his strong musk replaced it.
“A-are you scenting?” I asked, out of curiosity.
His lips didn’t move, his eyes glowing brighter than before. He pinned me against the island, a hand on each side of me, and his nose went straight to my neck.
“Yes,” he purred.
His wolf let out the most beautiful sound. It was a half growl that made my knees weaken with pleasure. My clit ached. I could feel my heart beating wildly, and the wetness between my thighs trickled down my leg.
The wild thunder of his chest pressed up against mine, his hand tilting my head so I could look into the deep depth of the pools of his eyes.