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When we finally came up for air, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing hard.

“Tell me what you want,” Jack said. “Anything. Or nothing. If all you want is the stars and the wine, then that’s what we’ll do, and I’ll be happy.”

“Liar. You’d be miserable.”

“I’d be content.”

“Jack.”

“Connor.” He smiled, and it was so tender it hurt. “I mean it. Say the word.”

I thought about what I’d told myself a few minutes ago, about getting to know each other, about how much effort he’d put into the night. But I also thought about how he’d opened my car door and held my hand, and lifted a blanket over my shoulders without being asked. This man had spent the entire evening showing me exactly who he was. I’d been getting to know him all along.

“I want to go inside,” I said. “I want to take you to bed, and I want to stay there until tomorrow night.”

His eyes flared brighter. A shudder ran through him that I felt all the way down my body.

He growled, a real one this time, and I grinned up at him like a fool. In one fluid motion, he was on his feet and pulling me up with him. Then he paused, glancing at the blanket and the wine and the neatly arranged pillows.

“The wine,” he said, almost mournful.

“Will keep.” I picked up the bottle, tucked it under one arm, and grabbed his hand with my free one. “Bring the glasses. We’re not abandoning the whole date.”

He did. He even blew out the little lantern on the table, then followed me up the deck steps with the glasses clinking in his fingers and an expression like he couldn’t believe his luck.

I could have told him the feeling was mutual.

Inside, the house was dark and quiet and smelled like cedar and him. He set the glasses on the kitchen counter without looking at them, and the next thing I knew, my back was against the wall and his mouth was on mine again. His hands were at my waist, sliding beneath the hem of my shirt. His skin was hot. Everything about him was hot.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he said against my lips.

“Not a chance.”

“Good.” His voice dropped, rough with want. “Because I’ve been wanting this since the moment I got you on the phone.”

“Is that so?”

He lifted me off my feet, and I wrapped my legs around his waist with a startled laugh that died the second he started walking. He carried me down the hall as if I weighed nothing, my face buried in his neck, breathing him in, and every step brought me closer to the bed and farther from the person I’d been this morning, who hadn’t known yet how thoroughly this man was going to wreck me.

“Oh fuck, this werewolf strength is paying off,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d never be able to do this with my old knees if it wasn’t for my wolf.”

The predator had caught his prey.

And this time, I let him.

Jack set me down at the edge of the bed like I was something breakable, then seemed to remember I wasn’t. He let me fall back onto the mattress and followed, his weight settling over me. The sheets smelled like cedar and like him, and I breathed it in.

“Shirt,” he said, tugging at the hem.

“Yours first.”

His smile turned wicked. He reached back, dragged his shirt over his head in one motion, and tossed it somewhere into the dark. I forgot how to speak. Moonlight spilled through the window across his shoulders, the broad lines of his chest, the dusting of hair that trailed down his stomach to the waistband of his jeans. There were patches of gray that matched his beard. I’d felt his strength all night. Seeing it was something else.

“You’re staring,” he said.