The Cabin, the Woods, and the Wolf #watty2016

Chapter 18

The sheets lay rumpled at his waist as he sits up his naked chest on display. He looks around the familiar room, it's been years but nothing has changed. When his eyes land on the end of his bed they light up.

There she lies, her arms outstretched with her head pillowed by his legs. She still wears his worn shirt from the cabin with little else on. He has no idea what happened after he passed out from the eclipse, but it must have been in his favor because he was back home after spending so many years alone.

He looks at her prone figure with her hair fanned over her face creating a sheer curtain accenting her delicate features. The candles on the bedside table make the firelight dance; shadows play along her skin that give her an ethereal glow.

If the curse was truly broken, then she either committed an act of love or proclaimed hers for me in front of my aunt, he thought.

His heart races at the thought of her loving him as much as he loves her.

His excitement overpowers his reluctance of waking her up. He runs his hand over her hair, tucking it behind her ear, making sure nothing hide her face from view.

She wakes slowly--blinking the sleep from her eyes, running her hands through her hair, and finally stretching out her sore muscles. Her eyes scan the expansive bed from bottom to top.

The rumpled blankets are the first clue that something has changed; the naked flesh that is exposed are her next clue.

She is unable to move on from the bronze, sculpted muscles that flex as he shifts to cover his waist. His abs meet his chest, making hills run into mountains.

Any god that I could have imagined doesn't compare to the one here in front of me, she pondered.

She loved him as a wolf, but now she appreciates his male figure as well.

Her body has moved forward of its own accord. Now she is leaning in with her lips only breaths away from touching his.

She goes to move back, but his hand on her neck stops her progress backwards and instead pulls her toward him, crashing his lips onto hers.

The zing that accompanies his kiss is mesmerizing. His other hand finds her hip bringing her closer to him until finally she is on his lap with his lips never leaving hers. The kiss turns from tender and exploring to rough and desperate. His hand that was once on her hip has traveled down, past the hem of her shirt. The feel of his hand on her skin makes her desperate for more.

As she goes to move over him there is a knock on the door which is then quickly opened making her dive for the other side of the bed. She cares not one whit about only having a shirt on; her thoughts focus on being found in the arms of this very important very royal, caring, attractive man.

"Oh, good. You are finally awake. Now get up and help your beautiful bride off the floor. We have a ceremony to attend." And as quickly as the woman was here she is now gone.

"Bride?" a very shy, female voice whispers as the door shuts.

"Ceremony?" the man asks.