She gave a brittle laugh, shaking her head. “You’re wrong. I know what I am. And it’s not something people keep.”
His brows drew tight, frustration flickering under the exhaustion. “Don’t tell me what I want.”
“Then don’t pretend you know what I am.” The words spilled fast, a shield she couldn’t stop raising. “I’m not soft. I’m not easy. I’ve never been good at—” she gestured, robe sleeve flaring like a wing, “—any of this. I don’t work with people. I don’t bend. I don’t fit. Every time I’ve forgotten that, I’veregretted it.”
“Maude—”
“No, hear me. You’ll grow to hate me. You’ll want someone pliable. Someone who doesn’t bite when cornered. Someone who doesn’t burn everything she touches. That’s not me. It’s never been me.”
Wesley stepped closer, heartbreak raw in his eyes, enough to make her stomach lurch. He cupped her face, palms rough and warm. “I don’t need you soft and easy, Maude. I need you exactly as you are. Fierce. Stubborn. Brilliant. The cracks you think make you broken—the edges you think cut too deep—they’re beautiful. Every piece of you is.”
She stared at him, heart in freefall. Her robe belt cinched too tight. Her fingers itched to break something, anything, to release the pressure. A tear slid down her cheek, hot, traitorous. His thumb brushed it away as if it were holy.
Her heart stuttered. “You’re wrong,” she said again, softer this time.
The corner of his mouth ticked up. He leaned forward, bit her bottom lip—gently. His breath ghosted against her mouth. “Liar.”
Her knees nearly buckled.
“Say what you know is true.”
Her pulse pounded everywhere at once. She pulled back just enough to see his eyes, and there it was—clearer than daylight, truer than any spell she’d ever cast. The look he’d been giving her for weeks. Maybe longer. Maybe since the start.
“You want me,” she breathed.
He smiled, soft and devastating, and pressed his lips to the spot he’d just nicked. “Sobadly, witch.”
Her breathing turned shaky. They shared the same air, every inhale and exhale tangled. His hands shook against her skin—not hesitation, but restraint. He was waiting. For her. Always waiting.
“Wesley,” she sighed—half a moan, half a warning.
They came together all at once, hungry and graceless. His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to pull a gaspfrom her. She clutched his shoulders, then his back, arms locking tight before thought could catch up to her body.
He stepped forward, crowding her into the frame, and kicked the door shut. The slam rattled the beams, a shudder that seemed to run through both of them.
Her robe loosened under his grip, slipping off one shoulder, fabric sighing against her skin. She bunched his shirt in both fists, yanking hard enough to feel the buttons strain. He only laughed into her mouth—low, breathless, wicked—and the sound melted her bones, sent heat sparking everywhere his body pressed against hers.
Maude exhaled, eyes dragging over him—the strength she’d always known was there, the clean lines of muscle tapering to his tight stomach. Her fingers found the ties at his pants just as his slipped to the sash at her waist. He tugged it loose, slow, reverent, until the robe slid from her shoulders and pooled at her feet. She stood bare before him, trembling breath catching in her throat.
His chest rose once, stalled. The air left him as if he’d been struck. “Beautiful,” he whispered.
Maude rose on her toes and brushed her lips against his. “You already said that.”
His mouth curved before he crushed her against him, kissing her hard. His tongue tangled with hers, heat sparking as his hands slid down to grip her backside, dragging her flush against him until she felt him hard—pressed against her.
Wesley groaned, thrusting forward as he broke from her lips to trail down her throat. Slow. Worshipful. His mouth found her breast, closing over her with a hunger that was aching, inexorable—as if he’d been waiting forever and refused to be gentle about it.
Maude panted against him, fingers tangled in his hair.
And then the growl came.
Shit.
Grim sat in the hallway like a king catching his subjects in scandal, tail curled, eyes glowing with judgment.
“Sorry, Grim,” Wesley muttered, not sounding sorry at all.Then he glanced back at Maude, breathless in his arms. “Where’s your room?”
Still dazed, she managed to point a shaky finger upstairs.
