He let out a soft, rough laugh. “You first.”
I traced the scar on his shoulder again, slow and careful. “You scare me,” I whispered. “Not because of what you’ve done. But because of what I feel.”
His breath caught.
I continued, voice trembling but honest. “Last night… when you went into the hallway… I’ve never been that terrified in my life. I thought—what if he hurts you? What if I lose you before I even get to know you properly?”
Wolf’s jaw flexed, emotion flickering behind his eyes. “You’re not going to lose me.”
“You can’t promise that.”
He brushed his nose along mine. “Maybe not. But I can promise this—if someone threatens you, they’ll have to go through me.”
“And your team,” I added softly.
He smirked. “Them too, I guess.”
I ran a finger down the scar on his chest.
He shivered.
“Nora…” he warned, low, husky.
“What?” I said, pretending innocence. “I’m just touching.”
“Exactly,” he said, voice deepening.
I let my hand linger.
And Wolf leaned in and kissed me—slow, sleepy, intimate, the kind of morning kiss that meant more than anything we’d done last night.
I kissed him back, fingers sliding through his hair—
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
We both froze.
Trigger’s voice bellowed from the porch:
“WOLF! NORA! DON’T BE NAKED—WE COME BEARING COFFEE AND QUESTIONS!”
Wolf groaned into my shoulder. “I swear to God…”
I laughed—breathless, warm, completely smitten.
And Wolf kissed my neck once more before muttering:
“If they interrupted what I think they interrupted, Trigger’s buying lunch for a week.”
“Oh, yes, that’s exactly what they interrupted.”
15
Nora
Wolf didn’t move at first.
He just lay there beside me, one arm draped over my waist, eyes shut, breathing out a string of muttered curses that sounded like prayers for patience.
