Page 39 of The Werewolf’s Study Date

"Yours," she gasps, tossing her head back, her throat arching. "All yours, Boone—fuck, right there!"

I slide one hand down between our slick, colliding bodies, finding her swollen clit with my thumb. I rub hard, matching the tempo of my hips as I drive deep into her over and over.

The friction is too much. Maisie screams, her pussy clenching around my cock in tight, spasming waves that light up every nerve ending I have.

"Boone! I'm coming⁠—"

Watching her shatter underneath me breaks whatever control I have left. I drive into her three more times, fast and deep, burying myself to the hilt as blinding white heat explodes behind my eyes. A loud, primal roar tears from my chest as I come hard, pulsing into the latex, my whole body locking rigid as I crush her against the mattress.

For a long time, the only sound in the room is our ragged breathing. My face is buried in the crook of her neck. My wolf is awake, buzzing with a fierce, possessive high, and I can feel my canines elongating against my gums, pressing sharp and heavy against the warm skin of her throat.

Instinct screams at me to bite. To sink my teeth into the junction of her shoulder, break the skin, and complete the bond right now while she’s soft and open beneath me.

I force my eyes open. I breathe through my nose, pulling my teeth back an inch, locking my jaw until the fangs retract.

Maisie feels the tension coiling through my body. Her hand comes up, fingers sliding gently into my hair, scratching lightly at my scalp.

“Boone?” she whispers.

I lift my head, propping myself up on my forearms. My chest is slick with sweat, my heart still hammering. “I’m good. Just... catching my breath.”

Her gaze drops to my mouth, then to the spot on her shoulder where my teeth were pressed a second ago. She understands immediately. There’s no fear in her expression—only a calm, steady awareness.

“We wait for the moon,” she says quietly.

“Yeah,” I say, leaning down to press a soft, closed-mouth kiss to her collarbone. “Five days. Wednesday night. When you choose it for real.”

“I’m already choosing you,” she says, smiling faintly.

“I know. But the bond is permanent, Pope. I want you to have the five days.”

She nods, pulling me down into a lazy, slow kiss. “Fair enough, Kinkaid.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re cleaned up and tangled in the middle of my bed.

Maisie is wearing my oversized grey athletic shirt, the hem falling past her mid-thigh, the sleeves swallowing her hands. She’s lying on her side with her head resting on my bare chest, her fingertips idly tracing the line of my collarbone down to my ribs.

My room is cool and quiet. Moonlight filters through the blinds, casting long silver stripes across the sheets.

For once, my wolf isn’t pacing or searching. He’s satisfied. Temporarily. Just curled up warm inside my chest, utterly content.

I look down at her auburn curls, breathing in the cedarwood scent of my soap mixed with her skin, and the words come out before I can stop them.

“I love you, Maisie.”

Her fingers still against my ribs.

She doesn’t pull away, and she doesn’t freeze in panic. She just shifts slightly, tilting her chin up to look at me with soft, clear eyes.

“I love you too, Boone,” she says, her voice quiet and certain in the dark.

Everything in my chest goes still. Then it floods with warmth so intense I have to breathe through it. I reach down, tucking a strand of auburn curls behind her ear, and press a kiss to her forehead, then her mouth—slow and deep and full of everything I’ve been holding back.

“Yeah?” I ask against her lips, needing to hear it again.

“Yeah,” she confirms, smiling against my mouth. “I love you.”

I pull her closer, burying my face in her hair. My wolf quiets, warm and satisfied, but the restless thread underneath him is still there. Still waiting for Wednesday. She settles back against my chest, her breathing syncing up with mine, warm and solid in the dark.