Daddy’s Mail Order Mate (Twilight Meadows Wolves #3)

Chapter 13 - Gwen

I've had to be cooped up in a car a decent bit these days. But despite the fact I'm not in the driver's seat, I think this might be my most uncomfortable drive yet.

Rowan gently dozes in his car seat next to me in the back of Thorn's SUV—honestly, I wish he'd wake back up so I’d have something to properly distract myself with. I tried using my phone to keep myself preoccupied, but the emails from the job search websites I'd signed up for just made me even more nerved up.

So instead I've just been keeping to myself and fighting for dear life to not steal glances at Thorn.

Ever since our little experiment to try and help me shift yesterday, I've been…

I've been a lot of different things, honestly. Incessantly horny seems to be the leading emotion however. Despite all my efforts to shove that particular feeling far to the back of my mind and shock my body out of it, all it takes is just looking at him to get me shivering and breathless again.

Speaking of, my eyes wander just enough to settle towards him. From this vantage, I only really see a bit of him: veiny hands idly resting on the steering wheel, the firm line of his arm and shoulder, the peek of his ear and nape around the headrest, and the edge of his gorgeous profile kept in silent focus on the road ahead.

God, I hadn't been this hot to trot even when I'd been a teenager. It feels like decades of pent up need have hit me all at once and left me so sensitive to desire that I'd probably get wet just from seeing his shadow.

I rest my arm on the car door and discreetly wipe at my face to try and pull myself back from just marinating in this all-consuming lust for him. There were so many other important factors I needed to consider and decisions looming over my head. The last thing I need is to spend every waking second practically in heat.

Even though I hadn't been able to shift, something has definitely changed. The only thing that makes sense is that it has worked in deepening my connection to the wolf within me. The haunting torture that I'd felt tucked away in me feels lessened, replaced instead by this potent desire for Thorn and a delicate vulnerable ache that feels ready to disappate at a moment's notice.

That last sensation I think might be the faintest trace of hope. While it still feels like an absolute pipedream that Thorn could ever want me in any real way, the fact of the matter is just yesterday he was on top of me literally an inch away from taking me on the forest floor.

My thighs squeeze and squirm a little bit at the memory, and I carefully cross them in a futile effort for retroactive modesty. I’d really just laid myself bare and open for him. If he hadn't remembered himself, I probably would have been caught in whatever strange trance had overtaken me and forced him inside of me.

I feel my inner walls squeeze around nothing, acutely reminding me that I am direly empty and the object of my desire is so close. If he'd been so ready to fill me then, what would it take to get him to do that again, or go even further?

Frustration twitches across my face and I rub at my eyes.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I recognize the road we're on and focus on getting my bearings to distract myself. We're actually not that far out from Thorn's home. I'm both grateful for it but also dreading it; at least in the car, we're locked in our respective spots and I don't have to interact with him too much. But once we get there, it'll be getting things unpacked, tending to Rowan, and settling back in. Which means interacting with him, watching him walk around, maybe even having to get close to him.

It was hard enough back at Elm Wood to just get through the rest of the night and get ourselves on the road this morning having to share the little guest house with him.

Maybe after I take care of Rowan, I'll go coop up in my room and keep myself busy somehow. Thorn's been pretty respectful of giving me my space. And with how stoic and careful he's been since our trip to the woods yesterday, I figure he’ll probably be especially mindful.

That sets off a tension in my gut that almost feels like the trace of a tantrum. Why am I so focused on staying away from him? We're supposed to be close. He's my—

I grit my teeth to the point that it hurts.

He's not my anything , and I know it, despite whatever repressed aspect of myself has decided to come back out after all these years. If we genuinely had anything, he would have had a proper talk about what happened; not just yesterday, but all of our old history. I scold myself and shove the cold hard facts to the forefront of my mind to try to cool this sudden whiplash I’m suffering from.

As though on some sort of cue, Rowan starts stirring as we get close to the house. I welcome the chance to stay busy and start tending to him in the last few minutes of the ride.

Once the car's parked, I hear Thorn turn around in his seat.

“Bring him in. I'll get our bags.”

Our.

What am I, fourteen?

“Sure,” I mumble. Realizing how out of it I sound, I clear my throat before going on in a more focused tone. “You mentioned to your sister that you've got work to catch up on. I can watch him.”

I glance over to him and I’m a little spooked by what I see. Maybe he wasn't expecting me to actually look at him, because his expression has a trace of intensity that reminds me of what he looked like looming over me yesterday. When we make eye contact he straightens up and has a sort of stilted quality when he turns back around to turn off the car and get out.

Am I just projecting onto him? Or maybe he's just suffering from the biological pull of the mate bond but is fighting against it. Because of course he'd be resisting it: he clearly didn't and still doesn't want it. He doesn't want me.

There's a trace of that old pain spiking through me of the rejection, but it feels dulled a bit by this latest fixation. I mean, it is hard to walk away from an experience like yesterday and not feel some mixed signals. Which unfortunately seems to have given my delusional wolf enough rope to hang herself with.

I get some relief for the next hour or so, thanks to Thorn holing up with his laptop and Rowan needing to get a full round of doting and me needing to sort out various chores to get the house resituated again.

But then Rowan gets a bit too excitable and works himself up into a little bit of spit up, and I have to go and talk to Thorn.

I carefully balance the baby and knock on the door to his office. I've managed to stay busy enough that I’d almost managed to put my awoken appetite behind me.

Despite the circumstances, when Thorn opens the door, I completely forget the question that had been readily lined up in my mind. Instead all I can do is stare at his arms; he rolled up his sleeves, leaving his forearms on delicious display. When I blink, I remember how they looked braced on either side of me, and the rest of his gorgeous body bare above me.

He grunts in a questioning tone, and I’m so startled that I blank out for a second.

“Right—sorry. I, um. Rowan puked a bit, and I cleaned him up for the most part, but between that and the trip he could use a bath. We haven't specifically discussed if you're alright with me doing that or not.”

“Ah,” he replies, reaching out to gently stroke his son's head and get a good look at him. “Yeah. I’ll wash him. Could you start the bath? There's a tote in the bathroom closet that has all his things. Warm water, not too hot, and keep it low. I'll be there in a few minutes.”

He's so fucking hot when he dotes on his son. At that thought, I silently choke on my tongue a bit. When did I ever have a thing for DILFs? Apparently that's been rattling around in whatever box I'd crammed my libido into. It really feels like my life is just a parade of surprises lately, and this absurd little note is just the cherry on top.

Rowan seems pleasantly excited when I set him down and get the bath going. A small smile twitches across my face.

“You like bath time, huh little guy?”

I know he doesn't understand me, but the merry giggle I get in reply is just the sweetest thing.

Thorn walks into the bathroom not long after, and I have to actually swallow salive when I see him. The bastard’s taken off his button up and now he's just in a tightly fitting tank top he'd had on for his undershirt. I can even see the ridges of his abs and the tip of his nipples beneath the fabric. Did he have to paint that on this morning?

“The audacity,” I deadpan without realizing.

“What?”

Shit—I didn't mean to say that out loud.

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at me in careful consideration, but I try to salvage my pride by bee-lining it for the door and calling out after me to end the entire interaction before it can go completely awry.

“Call if you need anything.”

I don't look back. He doesn't need to see how red in the face I am after that slip up. After that, I'm more than a bit paranoid and force myself into a state of careful vigilance whenever I’m around him. Thanks to that, dinner tonight is composed of silence and maybe thirty words between the two of us; I’m too cautious about saying something stupid to offer much in way of conversation, and Thorn doesn't seem inclined to be too chatty himself.

I think that maybe I've managed to figure out a decent defense against my wild magnetism towards him by the time I'm putting Rowan down to bed. But once again, practically like clockwork, Thorn has to ruin my delicate balance by the sheer fact he exists.

“Thank you,” he murmurs behind me, close enough that I almost whimper from how it rushes down my spine.

I bite the inside of my lips together and nod.

“Work… Did your work go alright today?”

He hums.

“Fine enough.”

“Good.”

I carefully turn around and find him turning on the baby monitor nearby. In the soft lighting of the nursery, he looks positively dreamy. It's mind boggling to see such a serious and powerful looking man in such a domestic backdrop, and when you pair that with the gentle golden glow highlighting his handsome face, it's undeniable just how damned attractive he is.

He glances down at me and my breath catches.

The quiet that passes between us feels unexpectedly heavy, and I tense when I see his eyes briefly flicker down from my face to my body for just a brief moment.

“Are you… Going to bed soon?”

I look away and smooth some of my curls behind an ear in an old fidgeting habit of mine. I thought I stopped doing that years ago. But it seems Thorn brings out a lot of me I’d thought I'd grown out of or forgotten.

“Yeah.”

He doesn't say anything for a bit. It takes long enough that I sneak a curious glance up at him, wondering what might be brewing behind that silence. His expression seems quietly focused, perhaps even a bit strained.

“... Are you?”

Thorn’s hands grasp and rub at the edge of the crib in a slow, restless way.

“I might.”

I nod.

Neither of us say anything. We both move a bit, shifting and fussing.

“Well,” I finally pipe up. “Good night then.”

I see his throat bob from a silent swallow before he replies.

“Yeah. Good night.”

With an unusual sense of subdued suspense, I make my way out of the baby's room and head to mine. That was an unusual atmosphere, to say the least. If I didn't know any better, I’d think that maybe he might be wanting to spend time with me. But he’s not like that, particularly with how standoffish we've both been. I convince myself that he likely was just gathering information in his usual matter of fact way and leave it at that.

Getting ready for bed just intensifies how flustered I feel. When I take my clothes off to change, I'm just reminded of yesterday all over again. I really had been so desperate for the chance to be able to shift again that I went running through the woods naked with Thorn chasing after me. He'd seen everything.

I stare down at my body, naked except for my panties. I can tell what sort of state I'm in just from the sheer fact my nipples could cut diamonds right now—and I know it's not because the room's cold.

“I can't keep this up,” I hiss under my breath as though I could scold my wolf face to face. I know in theory it's just a part of me, a face of my inner self. But at times like this, it really does feel like a whole separate entity lurking inside of me.

And all that side of myself seems to want to think about is Thorn. Is this what a fated bond is supposed to feel like?

“How the hell do people live like this?”

Maybe it becomes tolerable if the bond is acted on and you get it over with. At this rate I might just need to demand Thorn to put me out of my misery with one final pity fuck before I leave forever.

I slip a too-large tee on and get myself under the covers, hoping that I might just be able to get to sleep without too much of a problem. I haven't exactly been sleeping well lately, but that just means I'll get enough pent up exhaustion that I'll get a proper night's sleep eventually.

Unfortunately, trying to just unwind and let my mind wander brings it right back where I started. Behind my eyes I see the canopy overhead, then the curtain of black fur and the dual amber eyes boring down at me…

Then there’s Thorn, thrusting himself against me, growling and biting, panting hazily in my ear. My mind circles on it for what must be minutes, and I only catch myself when I notice I need to fight back a moan.

Goddamn it, I—

I bring my hand up sharply from where it'd mindlessly wandered between my legs, still faintly damp from rubbing at myself over my panties.

I use that very same hand to grab the pillow next to me and chuck it across the room in a blind act of needless violence, like maybe I could just chuck the memory away with it.

It helps a bit.

With that, I huff, turn myself around by practically throwing myself into the bed, and force myself to think of nothing at all.