“I want you to sing for me again,” I said. “Naked and from my bed. My own show.”
The slow smile she gave me had a wicked tinge to it that made my balls throb. “Okay.”
I grabbed her hand and led her out of the storeroom. Her taste on my tongue, a smile on her face.
I thought last night was the best night of my life. But tonight was turning out even better.
16
SUMMER
* * *
I pulled on one of Boone’s flannels. A bright red and so soft. It was so big, I didn’t even button it. Boone’s cabin was incredible. It had been dark when he brought me here last night after stopping at my place, so I could pack a bag. We drove high up in the mountains from town. When we arrived, we’d been–er, busy until I pretty much passed out from pleasure–but now in the light of morning, I looked around.
I’d call it cozy-luxury, if that was a thing. Last night, he told me he’d built it all himself. It clearly was a labor of love.
It was small–a studio cabin with an open living room/kitchen/bedroom area and a loft which he appeared to use as an office/library. While rustic, every detail was perfection. The heavy wooden doors featured engraved designs and fit snugly against the harsh winter. The cabinets and drawers in the kitchen all had the finest hardware and the soft-close feature. Invisible lights under the cabinets cast a glow on the gorgeous countertops. Both the kitchen and bathroom counters and shower walls were giant slabs of polished quartz–white and grey, with veins of purple and silver.
The pale wood floors were smooth and felt soft and welcoming. A cast-iron woodstove kept the place warm.
Natalie had said Boone was really smart–that he’d gone to college at age sixteen–but I really hadn’t pegged him as a bookworm. He wasn’t one for saying much, and with me, he’d stuck his foot in his mouth half the time. Yet the entire cabin was packed with books that he’d clearly read.
Every wall of the upstairs loft featured shelves, and one entire wall downstairs was also chock full of books. I ran my fingertips along the spines of some, scanning them. They covered everything–trade wars with China, the AI revolution, ancient Egyptian religion, craftsmen’s books on woodworking and construction, German philosophy, Jungian psychology.
“Wow,” I murmured. “You like to read.”
Boone was in bed, his large head propped on his hand as he laid on his side watching me. He shrugged, causing his muscular shoulder to ripple with muscle. “It gets boring up here in the winter,” he said simply.
I returned to the bed and crawled on top of him, straddling his thick trunk. He could easily flip me and dominate me, but he didn’t. His flannel hung over my shoulders like an open robe. “Why do you live up here all by yourself?”
There was something about Boone’s living situation that felt like he was guarding against something. Not hiding, necessarily, but isolating by choice.
He hesitated, which told me I was onto something. His dark eyes looked troubled. “It’s just… safer this way,” he muttered, looking away.
“Safer for whom? For you?”
He shook his head. A deep furrow creased a line between his eyes.
I cocked my head. “What aren’t you telling me?”
His jaw clenched. He hadn’t moved his giant body, but I could feel the tension pulsing through him.
“Please, I want to know. What happened? Did you… did you hurt someone? Your wolf did?” I wasn’t sure what made me guess that, but I immediately knew I was right by the way his eyes popped wide in surprise.
He stopped breathing.
“You can tell me, Boone,” I whispered, my finger running through the dark hair on his chest. The sleeves of his flannel were so long I couldn’t see my hands.
He didn’t speak.
I hadn’t known him long, but I knew enough. “I know you’re afraid of scaring me off. I guess I am kind of skittish. But I need to know everything about the man who says he’s my mate.”
Wow. Saying those words out loud affected me.
The man who says he’s my mate. It was like I could feel the tug of fate behind the words. The heavy meaning Boone and the rest of my friends attached to the word, mate.
Boone slowly released his breath. He stared up into my face like it was a lifeline. Like he could see right into my soul. He cleared his throat. “Growing up, my uncle–my mother’s brother–was alpha of this pack.” His voice sounded rusty.
