I Bite She Sucks, Bloom, Penelope [recommended reading TXT] 📗

sitting down with Kyla.” He motioned for me to follow him, and we both left the library together.

We didn’t speak until we were in our room. “Are you crazy?” I demanded once the door was closed. “I thought your job was to protect us? Because it looked like you were just trying your best to commit group suicide in there.”

Riggs was pacing around like a restless beast. He was breathing hard, studying the ground while he walked back and forth in a slow oval by the door.

“Riggs?” I said. I took careful steps toward him, half-way worried he’d lash out at my touch. I slowly reached out, touching his arm with my fingertips. He froze. I gently turned him to face me. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you. To be here with them. With her,” I added. “But you’re not alone, okay? We’re all here in this together, and we’ve got to keep it together. For everyone’s sake.”

He dipped his chin, staring into my eyes. I saw his were glinting with yellow flecks that seemed to fall magically down across his iris, dancing like golden leaves being blown from a tree.

I was mesmerized by the sight of them and leaned closer, but he must’ve taken my body language and words to mean something entirely different. Riggs let out a soft sound, then cupped the back of my neck and pulled me in, kissing me roughly.

My eyes flew open and I struggled against him at first, but the sensation of his lips against mine was intoxicating. My forehead scrunched together, and my eyes closed. His big arms were around me, crushing me against his body and swallowing me.

Everything seemed to happen in an instant. My body was responding on autopilot—clumsily clutching his bulging biceps and moving my lips in response to his.

I wasn’t sure if a full minute or mere seconds had passed before I managed to grab hold of sanity and pull back from the kiss. “Riggs,” I breathed. But when I looked up to meet his eyes, they were fully yellow. Glowing yellow, even.

He was breathing hard, and I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but he looked bigger.

I put my fingertips on his cheek, running them against his stubble gently. “Riggs,” I whispered.

He blinked a few times. Gradually, the yellow in his eyes dimmed, returning to their usual mocha brown.

I could practically see him returning to his mind blink by blink, and when the real Riggs was back, he looked ashamed. He averted his eyes, then tried to rush toward the door.

Without thinking, I grabbed his arm, pulling him back toward me. “If it’s you in there, then it’s okay,” I said.

He stared wordlessly, brown eyes searching mine.

“I mean,” I said, starting to talk too fast. “I’m not saying you have to. And I don’t really know how these things work. Like maybe your wolf has different taste in women, or you could be totally disgusted by what-”

Riggs crashed into me. He cupped my face, kissing me hard, but more tenderly than before. I backed up with him, letting the wave of physical sensations blast me into senselessness.

A few minutes ago, I’d been sure Riggs was about to write our death wishes in his own handwriting. I’d sensed how near I really was to the end of it all. Even as he kissed me, hands greedily exploring my body while we blindly backtracked toward the bed, my mind raced.

I’d told myself how much I hated him too many times to count. I’d sworn he was the worst thing since YouTube ads. But the truth was in the way my body was reacting, wasn’t it?

Our breath mingled and his scent filled my nose—heady and woodsy, like campfires and fresh air. I was amazed by how much it all seemed to happen on its own. I thought being with a man would be hard, like solving a puzzle with a deadline. Instead, my body seemed to already know the moves. It knew what it wanted and how to get it.

Did I think I could fix him? The question rang in the back of my mind, but I tried to shut that all off. This wasn’t the time to psychoanalyze myself. I was doing this, and I was going to enjoy it. It could be that simple, couldn’t it? Yes, I decided. Especially when any moment could be my last.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I breathed between kisses. Riggs had me pushed down on the bed now. My legs were bent over the side of the bed and he was still standing but bent over me and kissing my neck.

“But you know what you want,” he said, breath hot against my skin.

Oh. I’d been talking in a more metaphorical sense. He wasn’t wrong, though. Mild embarrassment spiked through me at how my hips were bucking up against him, grinding on his torso in desperate arching movements.

He pressed the flat of his hand between my legs, dizzying me with the sudden rush of warmth I felt there. He expertly found exactly the right spot and started rubbing while he still kissed his way down my neck and to my chest. The buttons on my uniform got in his way, but he undid those easily with his free hand without missing a beat with his other.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” I said. I wasn’t thinking. The words were just spilling out of me. My brain was too overloaded with all the wonderful sensations of friction and heat to filter my mouth.

“It definitely is,” he agreed, but showed no sign of stopping.

“Are you sure we sh-”

Riggs finally paused. He lifted his eyes, glaring into mine. “It doesn’t have to mean more than it means.”

I wasn’t sure I knew what that meant, but I nodded, feeling comforted by the seeming simplicity of the statement. It didn’t have to mean more than it meant. Right. But what if it felt like it meant a lot?

He interrupted my thoughts by