The Werewolf's Pet

CHAPTER ELEVEN

As Aaron stood in the opened doorway of the walk-in closet in only jeans, I couldn't stop my gaze from falling upon the scar that spread from his cheekbone up to his eyebrow. Even with it, he was a handsome man. Though, in the picture his father had shown me, he didn't have a scar. The picture must have been before he obtained it.

When he inched closer, my heart picked up pace. He stood inches from where I sat on the edge of the bed, then propped his hands on either side of my hips on the mattress, his face mere centimeters away from mine. "You're seriously invading my personal space right now." We both laughed. I had said the same thing months ago when he sat beside me in wolf form.

From how close he stood, I noticed that those bright eyes of his weren't only blue, but silver around the pupil, framed by large eyelashes. My eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he leaned his cheek against mine. I didn't move an inch. The stubble on his cheek scratched my skin which evoked soothing electricity that spread through me at the mere contact of our skins, making me bite my lips.

When he pulled back, my eyes narrowed as I tried to comprehend what on earth was happening. Why did I feel such sensations whenever our skins came into contact—why did it seem to be more intense now than before?

He locked gazes with me, those blue eyes boring into mine before his gaze averted to my lips. At a soft bang on the door, he stepped away from me. His eyes averted in every direction as if he had no idea what to do.

"Is everything okay?" It was Jezebel.

"Everything is fine," I said.

"Okay, I have a gift for you. I'll leave it in your room." Aaron didn't move until her footsteps couldn't be heard any more. He faced me again, eyes holding me in place.

As I stood, I said, "You're taller than expected."

He broke the distance, stopping too close. My body became immobilized when he trailed his fingers over the mark on my collarbone. At the mere contact of his fingers on it, a gold shine appeared. I narrowed my eyes and batted his hand away. "I don't remember giving you permission to touch me."

"My apologies." He pulled back, stunning me, then turned around to return to the bathroom. My gaze fell upon the scar on his back. For a moment, I wondered how he had obtained it. The door closed behind him. Seconds later, I heard the running water of the shower. I clasped my hands in front of me, glancing over the paintings stacked against the wall.

I kicked off the heels, then pushed myself off the bed before walking toward them. I crouched, grabbing each one and placing them beside me on the floor. Every painting was almost as realistic as the real thing. I brushed my fingers over the painting of a beautiful forest, craving more than I ever imagined that I could jog through it, enjoying the beautiful sounds of the wildlife.

My fingers froze on the frame of the last painting. It was her: Annabel.

Whoever had painted it had caught every detail, even the soft freckles running across her nose and cheeks. The bright smile on her lips told me she was actually happy. Such beaming smile couldn't be feigned.

"What are you doing?"

I lurched to my feet and turned to face him. "Oh my gosh!" My cheeks flamed at the sight in front of me. Why on earth would he walk out of the bathroom without anything on? As he grinned, with clear amusement at my embarrassment, I became completely certain that he had done it on purpose. He stood in front of me without any sign of embarrassment; on the contrary, he stood there with pride. Though, he was a wolf. Perhaps they were used to nudity. "Why on earth did you walk out like that?"

He shrugged. "Is not anything you might not have seen already. I saw your file. You're not a v—"

"I don't care what that file says! Get some clothes on." When my gaze fell upon that very defined V-line, I couldn't stop from looking lower. I whirled around, heat rushing into my cheeks—my entire face.