Chapter 7As I tipped my head back and stroked the razor over my throat, I relished the idea that in the other room St John was laying out his clothes for the evening. I never thought I’d have a partner, a mate, a love of my life—
“Robert.”
I nearly sliced my throat open from the panic in my lover’s voice, but my wolf steadied me, helping me ignore the possibility of doing such an asinine thing. I gripped the razor like a weapon and sprinted into our bedroom.
“What’s wrong?” I expected nothing less than a fiend. With fangs.
He stood before his chest of drawers, clad only in white boxer briefs, his bare toes curled into the rug. Dark chestnut curls feathered over his chest and arrowed in a narrow line down past the briefs which clung to his arse and lovingly moulded his c**k. My mouth we
