He slid the sleeve free. Miles Davis,Kind of Blue.
He set the vinyl on the platter, brushed it once, and lowered the needle. Static whispered through the speakers. Then the bass came in, steady and low, followed by piano and a warm, muted trumpet. The music filled the room.
“That’s nice,” she said quietly.
“It is.”
Main Street glowed beyond the windows as they sat back down to eat the blackberry and lavender galette. The crust shattered delicately under his fork, buttery and crisp, giving way to warm berries that burst sweet and tart across his tongue. The lavender lingered underneath it all, faint and floral, softening the sharpness of the fruit.
“I’m going to ask for one thing tonight,” he said after they finished their dessert.
“Okay.”
“Dance with me.”
“Hmmm.” She shook her head, pink rising in her cheeks.
“It’ll be fine,” he said, standing. He offered his hand.
She took it and followed him to the middle of the living room. Her cheek found his sternum. His hand spread at the small of her back, and the curve of her belly pressed lightly between them. His wolf purred happily with contentment. They turned slowly through one song and into the next.
She looked up, rose onto her toes, and kissed him. He kissed her back. Her mouth was soft and certain and tasted like blackberries, and her fingers slid up into his hair. Desire surged through him like a current finding ground. His hand came up to her jaw, and her heartbeat climbed under his palm. His inner wolf howled, demanding his mate.
He broke the kiss and stepped back. One full step, his hands leaving her, the hardest thing he’d ever made his body do.
“There’s something I should tell you. Back when we matched, I figured out who you were pretty quickly. Blaze recognized your photo. I knew your name and where you worked before you ever came into my office.” He shrugged slightly. “I never did anything with it. You didn’t answer my message, and then you showed up needing help. After that it just seemed irrelevant. But I’d rather say it than keep it a secret.”
The record turned. She looked at him for a long moment.
“I don’t care about any of that.” She closed the space between them and kissed him again.
Chapter
Thirteen
Axel’s queenbed had a dark quilt pulled smoothly over the mattress. A single lamp sat on the nightstand beside a stack of books, and across from the bed, the tall window looked out onto the black iron fire escape bolted to the brick outside.
Reese started to unbutton Axel’s shirt, deciding to make the first move. She pulled the hem loose, and he bent to let her take it over his head. She dropped it on the chair and looked at him. Axel was lean with taut muscle and a deep V dipping below his waistband. He was already hard against the front of his jeans. She dragged her palms up his sides and felt his breath stutter. But he still didn’t move.
“You can touch me,” she said.
He gripped the hem of her shirt and stopped. She nodded and raised her arms. He drew the shirt over her head slowly, giving her time to change her mind. She was left in her bra, her belly round in the lamplight, her nipples tightening under the fabric.
He looked at her silently, like he was afraid to look away. But the hunger in his quiet eyes made her pulse climb. His hand rose, but he hesitated before touching her.
She took his wrist and set his palm against the side of the bump. His hand was warm against her skin. The baby was quiet. Her heart was not.
“Lie down with me,” she said.
He turned the quilt back, and she lay down on the bed. He then climbed in beside her, his weight propped up on his elbow.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said. “For any reason.”
“I will.” She didn’t think she would need to. “Kiss me.”
He kissed her slowly, one hand on her cheek. She pulled him closer by the back of the neck. His breath hitched as she took his free hand and put it on her breast.
“Gently,” she said against his mouth.
