I look up. Bea's standing at the bottom of the staircase in one of Seth's shirts and sleep shorts, her hair loose around her shoulders, backlit by the hall light.
"Bea? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." She crosses the room, her bare feet silent on the hardwood. "I woke up and you weren't in the nest."
"Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to disturb you all." I set down my pencil. "You should go back to bed."
"I don't want to go back to bed." She stops in front of me, and there's something in her eyes—determination, heat, certainty. "I want you."
My heart stops. "Bea?—"
"I'm done waiting. I'm done being scared." She straddles my lap on the couch, her hands on my shoulders. "I want your bond, Grayson. I want to feel you the way I feel Seth and River. I want to be complete."
"You need to be sure?—"
"I am sure." And the certainty in her voice, in her eyes, undoes me. "I love you. I've been in love with you for weeks. And I want your bond. Right now. Please."
The words break whatever control I've been clinging to.
I kiss her. Hard, desperate, claiming. She kisses me back just as fiercely, her hands sliding into my hair.
"You're sure?" I ask against her mouth, needing to hear it one more time.
"I'm sure." She pulls back, her eyes clear and certain. "Bond me, Grayson. Make me yours."
"You're already mine," I growl, but I'm already pulling her closer, already lost in her scent. "Have been since the day we met."
I shift us so she's lying back on the couch, me hovering over her. My hands slide under her shirt—Seth's shirt—and she arches into my touch.
"Can I?" I ask, fingers at the hem.
"Yes. God, yes."
I pull it over her head, and she's bare underneath. Perfect breasts, nipples already hard, skin flushed with arousal. I lean down and take one nipple in my mouth, and she gasps.
"Grayson—"
"I know." But my hands are mapping her body, relearning what makes her gasp, what makes her arch. I've touched her during heat, but this is different. This is choosing. This is permanent.
I work my way down, pressing kisses to her stomach, her hips, the inside of her thighs. When I hook my fingers in her sleep shorts and panties, I pause. "These too?"
"Please."
I pull them down, and the scent of her arousal hits me full force. She's already dripping wet, slick coating her thighs.
"Look at you," I murmur, spreading her thighs. "So beautiful. So ready for me."
"Been thinking about this," she admits breathlessly. "About you."
"Good." I settle between her thighs on my knees on the floor. "Because I've been thinking about this too. About tasting you. About making you mine."
I lean in and lick a long stripe up her pussy, tasting her slick. Sweet and perfect and everything I've been dreaming about.
"Fuck, baby. You taste incredible."
I take my time, learning exactly what she likes. The bond isn't there yet, but I can read her body—the way her thighs tremble, the way her breath catches, the way her hands fist in my hair when I find the perfect spot.
I slide two fingers inside her while I work her clit with my tongue. She's tight, hot, absolutely perfect. I curl my fingers and find that spot deep inside.
