Caleb’s wounds are healing nicely. That’s the first thing I think looking at Caleb’s chest. The second is much less innocent.
As much as I want to hate Caleb, and as many viable reasons as I have to do so, his body always manages to provide an excellent counterpoint. He may only be an alpha werewolf, but he is built like a god. Wide shoulders taper to a narrow waist, only to expand out again with shapely rounded glutes.
And all of it is on perfect, wet display for me now.
Caleb’s attention is fixed on something in the water, his hands curled loosely above the water.
Then, in a flash, even faster than I can see, he darts his hands into the water, scoops out a fish, and tosses it onto the shore right at my feet.
For a moment, the building heat inside of me wanes, only so I can be so tho
