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I kiss it right off his mouth.

He gives in instantly, one hand braced against the tree beside my head while the other settles at my waist. His fingers slip beneath the hem of my shirt, hot against my skin, and I shiver so hard I feel his smile against my lips.

“Don’t look so smug,” I whisper.

He kisses the corner of my mouth like that is exactly what smugness earns him.

His mouth trails along my jaw, then lower, slow enough to make my knees unreliable. His beard scrapes my skin, rough and perfect, and when his lips find my neck, my head falls back against the tree. A breath slips out of me.

His hand tightens at my waist.

I tug him closer by his shirt, my voice barely more than air. “Leon.”

He stills against my throat, waiting.

Always giving me the choice, even when I can feel what this is doing to him. Even when his body is tense against mine and his fingers flex like holding back costs him.

That does something dangerous to me.

I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath my palms. “I want this.”

His breath catches.

Then he pulls back, reaching for his notebook.

I laugh softly and cover it with my hand before he can write a word. His brows lift, and I raise my hands, slow but sure, signing the words Trish taught me.

“Trish is watching camp.” I point back toward the firelight, then put my hand over top of his cock, my cheeks burning but my voice steady. “You’re free tonight.”

He just stares at me.

The woods feel too quiet. The space between us feels too hot. His chest rises once, hard, like he’s dragging in the last clean breath before a storm.

Then his mouth crashes back into mine.

This kiss is different from our first.

Still Leon. Still careful underneath. But the leash on his control goes tight enough to snap. His hands move over me like he’s learning me by touch, like every curve and shiver is an answer he’s waited years to receive. I fist the front of his shirt and tug, impatient, needing more of him, needing proof this isn’t another beautiful thing I’m about to lose.

He lets me pull him closer. Then closer still.

The chill night air brushes my skin as my jacket gives way, but I barely feel it. Not with his hands on me. Not with the way his mouth follows, slow and reverent, like he’s been dreaming about this and still can’t believe he’s allowed to have it.

The sound that leaves me barely feels like mine. The bark scrapes against my back as I arch into him, the contrast making everything sharper. Cold air. Warm hands. Sinful mouth. Hard body.

Him.

All of him.

For once, I don’t shrink from what I want. I don’t apologize for needing. I don’t think about who I’m supposed to be.

I just let myself feel.

Leon lifts his head, breathing uneven, eyes locked on mine. He looks wrecked in the best way, like touching me is undoing him as much as it’s undoing me.

Yes.

I want that.