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“I guess this is a weekend of telling strangers things I’ve never told anyone before, huh?” I murmur.
He flinches, his green eyes becoming a darker shade, a Nordic deep-sea green, a faraway shimmer.
“Is that what we are?” he growls. “Strangers?”
No.
“Well, we only just met,” I murmur.
He smirks, tilting his head at me appraisingly. “You can ‘know’ somebody for years, decades, and not truly know a thing about them. I feel like I know you way better than most other people in my life. If that makes me crazy, fine, maybe I’m a goddamn madman.”
I draw in a sharp, stunned, the passion of his words triggering something deep inside of me.
He grins like a wolf, more a baring of his teeth.
“I’m not much good at this emotional stuff,” he goes on. “But when I laid eyes on you, I fucking knew I had to have you—not just your body, Millie. I knew I had to have all of you. Your body, your soul, your life, your womb. Do you hear me? Your fucking womb.”
The words rush out of him. He’s like a man possessed, leaning in closer as his muscles pulse and swell in the confines of his shirt. His eyes blaze into me and his jaw tightens, filled with tension.
Every part of him looks like it could erupt at any second.
“Yeah,” he goes on with a growl. “There is it. It’s out there. As crazy as it is, the second I saw you I knew you were going to be the mother of my children. I knew that I was going to claim you. I knew I’d turn into a full fucking beast if anybody else ever tried to take you from me. Do you understand now? Do you see? You’re mine. You fucking belong to me.”
He darts his hand out, clamping it down on my thigh.
I shiver and let out a panting pleasure-filled breath, biting my lip as I look down at his strong big mitt on my leg, and then up into the twin stars of his eyes, fiery, alight, focused on me and nothing else.
The forest, the town, the world drifts away as he stares at me.
“You’re mine,” he says. “I’m claiming you. Your gorgeous hair and your cute-as-fuck face, those pouty lips, your curvy body, your cooking skills, your sassiness, your shyness, everything you are, or will ever be, belongs to me. That’s what I thought the second I saw you. So no, Millie, I can’t consider us strangers. I don’t care about how long it’s been. I don’t care about reason. All I care about is my instincts, and every single one is telling me that you’re the woman for me, the only woman.”
His lips are on mine in a blink. It’s like our bodies were just waiting for the contact, my hands gliding up his solid arms and through his silver-flecked hair, his tongue finding mine as we open our mouths.
I moan through our kiss and he makes a carnal growling noise, the vibration of it moving through me, down my neck, and into my body.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, holding his lips next to mine, our eyes staring directly into each other.
“I thought it was just me,” I gasp.
“What?”
“All that stuff you said—about wanting to have kids together, about just knowing we were meant to be together. It’s crazy, Markus. I’ve had the same thoughts. Oh, God, the same instincts. But I thought it was just me.”
He leans back, eyes wide with shock. “Jesus, that’s insane,” he murmurs. “You have? You really fucking have?”
“Yes,” I exclaim, glee bubbling in my voice.
Suddenly I feel as if I could leap from the car and fly into the snowy sky, darting between the clouds, nothing holding me down.
But then I remember Finn.
And then I remember it.
“What, Millie?” Markus says, taking my hands in his. “This is good. This is better than good. I’m no poet. But this just feels … right. Correct. Like it was meant to happen. Goddamn, now you’ve got me believing in fate.”
“I know, I feel the same,” I whisper, squeezing onto his hands as though that means I don’t have to say it, to shatter this moment like the brick that shattered the window.
“Then what’s there to pout about, eh?”
“Hey, who said I was pouting?”
I punch him playfully in the arm.
“You need to learn some better technique,” he teases. “That felt like a damn fly landing on my arm.”
I mock glare at him, suddenly filled with light, air, and glee. I don’t know how he does this to me, but his words have got me feeling like anything’s possible.
He’s claiming me.
And it feels so good to be claimed.
“Maybe you can teach me,” I banter.
“What, give you tips on how to beat me up?”
I giggle, making to slap him again. He catches my hand at the wrist and then crushes me with his lips, still wet and tingling from before, and yet eager to taste him again, to feel the desire growing beneath his hard muscled surface.
