Footsteps creak up the observatory stairs, and from the weight and cadence, I already know it’s him before his tall, broad silhouette darkens the landing, his hair tousled from the pillow or the wind. The moonlight catches the dark scruff along his sharp jawline.
“Thought I’d find you up here fussin’ with that thing,” he says. “It’s late, sugarplum. Why don’t you come to bed.”
“The Astral Society will be here in two days. The eyepiece alignment on the new telescope was off.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and ambles over. I keep my attention on the telescope as he nears. The sting behind my eyes, the tightening in my chest—I know if I look at him now, I won’t be able to stay in control.
He stops beside me, close enough I can feel the heat of him even through my sleeve. He smells of smoke and soap. “You’re frettin’ again.”
I bite down on my lip, fighting the quiver there. “It isn’t fair,” I whisper. “It isn’t fair that my body won’t do the one thing it was made for.”
He steps closer, rough palm cupping my cheek. “You were made for more’n that, Alice.”
For a long while we just stand there, the silence between us stretching. “When Joseph and I never conceived,” I say quietly, “I always assumed it was him. But now…” My voice catches. “Now I think maybe it was me all along.”
He says nothing. The silent confirmation makes it worse somehow.
“I keep telling myself it shouldn’t matter,” I continue. “But it does. Some part of me refuses to stop wanting—” My eyes burn, so I turn toward the open slit of the dome where the clouds have just begun to thin. A single star blinks through, then another, before the tears blur the sight of them.
“Didn’t I tell you a man that’s always wantin’ never has enough? A man content with what he’s got’s already rich. You gotta stop worryin’ about gettin’ what you want, lamb. You know as well as I do, life don’t give a damn about fair. What’s meant to be will be, and we just gotta make the best of it.”
I turn on him, temper flaring. “Spare me your philosophy. You just stomp in here with your calm voice and think you can fix everything.”
“Usually works,” he says, grin tugging.
That grin does it. My frustration bubbles over. “Get out,” I say, pointing toward the stairs.
He doesn’t move an inch. “Now why would I do that when you’re just gettin’ good and feisty?”
“Because I asked you to.”
He steps closer. “No, you didn’t ask. You told. And that tone’s gonna earn you a consequence, Mrs. Collier.”
My pulse jumps. “Don’t you dare.”
“Oh, I dare,” he says, and before I can take a step back, he’s caught me around the waist and turned me against his hip.
“Bear!” I squeal, half laughing, half scandalized.
He sits on the low bench and pulls me across his lap. “Go on then, say you’ll mind your mouth.”
“No,” I say, knowing full well what it will earn me. He catches the back of my skirts in his fist, pulling them up where they gather around my waist. He yanks down my drawers before I can even catch my breath.
His hand comes down sharp, a fiery sting that startles the breath out of me and scatters the sorrow right out of my chest. “Kodiak,” I gasp, the name breaking loose before I can stop it. He strikes again, and I jolt with the impact.
“Quit your squirmin’, woman. Your rear’s gettin’ what it deserves for that smart mouth. Now apologize.”
He swats again, harder, his broad palm searing across me, too big to miss a single inch. My knees weaken and heat floods my cheeks, my core, warmth spilling where I’m most tender.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“I bet you are. This hand’ll teach you manners,” he says, another swing coming down with a vengeance. I squeeze my eyes shut, seeing white. His palm soothes, fingertips grazing my center.
“You’re gettin’ all slick and soft, ain’t you?”
I wriggle, my face flaming as I try to deny it, but my body’s betraying me, melting under his touch. “I can’t help it,” I whisper, barely audible.
“Is that right?” he says, teasing, his fingers slide lower, teasing that secret warmth. I gasp, my whole body tensing. He glides down, pressing at my entrance.
