Page 27 of Wolf It Down, Knot Me Up

“Yeah?” He shifts his weight onto one leg, the movement rolling through his broad shoulders.

“Whoever designed this whole scent-match system deserves to be punched.” I gesture helplessly between us. “One bite. Half a second. And suddenly I can’t think straight every time you’re within breathing distance.”

His chuckle is low and entirely unfair, and the sound sends a buzz down my spine.

“Part of me…” He closes his eyes for a heartbeat before opening them again. “Part of me is happier than I’ve ever been.” His gaze holds mine.

And I can’t look away.

“The rest of me is terrified of what this means for you.”

“Oh.” I’ve lost my words.

“I’ve wanted a mate my whole life. Ask Grayson. He’ll tell you I’m insufferable about it.” He grins. “So there’s a piece of me that got exactly what I’ve been asking for. But I also damn hate that part, because you didn’t get asked. I did that to you, and I can’t take it back.”

He stands there, probably saying the hardest truth he’s ever had to admit about himself, then waits to see what I do with it.

“For what it’s worth,” I answer, “I’m not exactly hating it either. Which is easily the most alarming thing I’ve admitted tonight.”

He smiles, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of it. “That so?”

I nod once, refusing to elaborate, and my pulse stumbles. The frightening fact is that every inch of me wants exactly the same thing. The pull between us is tightening with every heartbeat until it takes all my concentration not to give in and cross the few feet separating us.

Something hardens behind his gaze. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small carving, turning it over once in his hand before holding it toward me. It’s a small carved bird that is simply adorable. “This was plan B.”

I frown more out of confusion.

“Plan A was leaving it on the step and walking away.”

Despite every sensible thought telling me not to, I step off the last stair. I reach for the carving, and as my fingers brush his palm, desire tears through me so suddenly my breath catches. It spreads through me until every nerve feels painfully alive. For one reckless, terrifying heartbeat, I don’t care about the carving at all. I just want his hand against mine again.

A muscle jumps in his jaw before he slowly draws a long breath, and I know he felt it too.

I force my gaze down to the bird, small enough to rest in the middle of my palm, its wings tucked close against its body.

“This is gorgeous.”

He shrugs. “It’s a wren. Couldn’t get it out of my head when I thought of you.”

I close my fingers around it. The wood is warm from his pocket, and that detail does more damage to me than anything he’s said so far.

“You carved me a bird.” I let out a soft laugh, turning it over in my hands. “Here I was thinking you’d climb beneath my window and serenade me. Instead…” I lift the little wren. “You whittled me a bird.”

He’s grinning, tilting his head to the side. “You’re making it very hard to be the good guy tonight.”

I laugh again, the sound escaping past my lips. It feels good to release the pent-up tension, to pretend for a moment that tonight isn’t completely impossible.

His eyes darken enough to steal the breath from my lungs, and for one dizzy heartbeat, I have the absurd thought that if I took one more step, he’d forget every promise he’d made to himself tonight.

“Do you realize how romantic this gift is?”

“When you put it like that…” He does a puking face, sending me into a wild giggle.

That’s when I realize I’m standing far too close to him, and now his scent is in my mouth, in my throat, and behind my eyes. I have to lock my knees. My nipples are hard enough to ache against my tank top. There’s no possible way he can’t smell exactly how badly I crave him, because I’m soaked clean through my shorts.

His breathing has changed too. It’s faster, heavier.

I slip the wren into the back pocket of my jeans. “Come upstairs with me,” I whisper, seeing as I have zero control over myself.