Howl (Monster Boyfriends #1)

Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

JAMIE

I t’s around 3:30 in the afternoon when I hear Raegan come in through the front door. I’ve been ready and waiting for her to get back for the past hour, but as she comes into the kitchen, I make myself look busy on my laptop. I continue replying to a nonexistent email as she sits down at the table and wipes sweat from her forehead. Her sweatshirt looks damp, either from sweat or something else I don’t want to know about.

“That took a little longer than expected,” she sighs, apology lacing her voice.

“No worries.” I make a show of closing my laptop. “You’ve got perfect timing. I just finished up.”

The lie comes a little too easily, but the relief on her face makes it worth it.

“Just let me go change real quick,” she says before darting back to her bedroom. It hasn’t sunken in yet that it’s officially hers.

I wait patiently with my keys already in hand while she changes. When she steps back into the kitchen, she’s wearing a long sleeve black shirt and loose-fitting jeans. Her hair has been readjusted from a high bun on top of her head to a low ponytail. She’s flushed, cheeks pink as she rolls her sleeves up to her elbows. “Well, what are we waiting for?” Her smirk makes my heart thump as I follow her out of the door, locking up behind us.

The closest furniture store is about thirty minutes outside of town. As we make our way to the highway, I try my best to keep my eyes on the road, but I’m finding it hard to look away from Raegan. She insisted we roll the windows down to enjoy the cool breeze, and now she’s got one hand extended outside the cab to catch the air in her spread fingers. Small strands of hair fly wildly around her face, eyes closed. Like this, she appears innocent and unmarred, and I want to keep this image of her in my mind forever.

I can see splotches of greenish yellow starting to form amidst the purple bruising on her neck, meaning it’s finally beginning to heal. Throughout this entire week since the attack, I don’t think she’s made a single effort to hide it. The sentiment makes me proud, because I know her decision to show it is brave. It’s her small way of choosing to stay in the open instead of hiding herself away.

When we finally reach the furniture store, the first thing Raegan does is get distracted by a set of lemon themed serving trays. I have to physically take her by the shoulders and steer her in the opposite direction.

“No more lemon shit,” I insist.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to call me that.”

I wink at her suggestively. “You’re right. Just lemon.”

Her cheeks go pink again, but this time I know my use of her new nickname is what’s made her overheat. I hadn’t actually planned on using it regularly, but seeing the way it’s made her squirm each time it comes out of my mouth has made it all the more enjoyable.

Still, I don’t want it to become like one of those cutesy pet names, so instead, I plan to use it only for special occasions. That way she knows exactly what it means. And it seems I’ve done my job, given how hard she’s currently avoiding eye contact with me.

We browse the bedroom section of the store, looking for the right size and style that Raegan is looking for. The guest room isn’t super spacious, so if we’re being realistic, a full size frame would be best, but I want her to have a comfortable space just like the one she had in her old room, so we opt for the queen.

The frame she ultimately picks out has a simple wrought iron headboard with swirling filigree around the top of each rod. Undoubtedly, the first thought that comes to mind when I see it is the image of Raegan’s hands gripping the bars while I’m pounding into her from behind.

Clearly, our tryst in the kitchen was not enough to dull the constant ache in my balls I’ve felt for two days straight.

Secretly, I wonder if the image has crossed her mind as well. Because although the style is fitting of her preference, I swear she smirks as she grabs the attention of the nearest employee and points to her choice.

After we get home, it takes two hours for us to put together the bed frame due to my insistence of not needing the instructions. Of course, Raegan proved me wrong when the piece I thought I’d screwed together properly was actually missing three more bolts and fell apart the moment I let go. Begrudgingly, I allowed her to walk me through the rest of the steps until finally, a completed frame sat neatly against the back wall of Raegan’s new bedroom.

Together we hauled the mattress from the hallway back into her room and placed it strategically on top of the iron slats, though I would say I probably carried ninety percent of the weight. Then Raegan took her time adding the sheets and dressing the duvet with her fluffy pillows and favorite throw blanket.

After the project was finished, we both stood back to admire our handy work. I reflected back her satisfied grin, but inside I felt a little bittersweet about the situation. The other day felt like we had finally started something, and now, it’s like we’re taking a step backward, erasing the progress we’ve made.

“I’ll let you finish organizing,” I say, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my forearm.

Leaving her to one of her favorite past times, I head downstairs to grab a glass of water and relax on the couch. I flip on the TV to whatever football game is currently on and stretch out along the corner of the sectional.

Surely watching my favorite sport will be enough to distract me from the nagging thoughts in my brain. But it’s proving rather difficult, no matter how hard I try to focus on the players running across my screen.

An hour or so passes, and eventually I find myself actually tuned in to the game. It’s been a close score throughout the fourth quarter, and I’m waiting to see if the team that’s down by one point is going to go for the two-point conversion. But just as they start to line up for the next play, I’m caught off guard by a very prominent scent.

I look up and spot Raegan coming down the stairs. She’s got her earbuds in, and she’s changed into a pair of slouchy lounge pants and a different sweatshirt than the one she wore this morning. This one is blue with lyrics from one of her favorite singers. It matches her eyes, but that’s not what I’m focused on. Right now, my entire set of predatory senses is lasered in on the very clear scent of arousal that’s wafting from her.

What the hell has she been doing up there?

Then I put it together. She’s been listening to an audiobook while organizing her room, and something tells me she’s at a particularly spicy part in the story.

She walks past the entryway that leads to the living room and goes straight to the refrigerator in the kitchen, making a point not to look in my direction. I watch her knowingly as she fills her water cup and takes a long, desperate sip.

I have two options here: either I can choose to ignore that she’s very clearly turned on by whatever she’s reading and go back to watching the game I now have no interest in, or …I can offer my assistance. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do. Not to mention, if I hear the buzz of a vibrator after she goes back upstairs, I might actually lose my shit.

The smell of her arousal takes me right back to the moment I had her perched atop the counter she’s now facing, and my cock starts to swell.

Fuck it.

I decide to go with my primal instincts and just go for it, praying she doesn’t turn me down. I need this last opportunity. I need one more chance to watch her fall apart from my touch. Because if this is all I get—if I never get to kiss her soft lips or feel her silky smooth skin beneath my fingers ever again—at least I’ll have the memory of this moment.

I take my time walking into the kitchen, playing out a scenario in which I’m just casually going for a snack in the pantry. Raegan keeps her back to me, very clearly trying to avoid eye contact. I open the pantry door and rummage around, making a show of crinkling a bag of chips, then I close it. She hasn’t moved, but I can see she’s carefully opening a sleeve of crackers.

My hand grips the edge of the counter where her pretty pussy had been on display for me only two days ago. She senses my presence and turns around, finally making eye contact with me. Mine must be wild with lust, because she lets out a soft gasp.

“Don’t tell me that book you’re listening to is what’s got you smelling so sweet.”