‘How do you know?’ she challenged.
His gaze darkened. ‘You nearlydiedon that mountain, Greta. I’m the one who carried you home. I’m the one who stayed awake in that sled listening to you breathe every minute of every hour of every day trying to make sure your heart didn’t give out.’ The strain of that worry still tugged at his jaw.‘So, when I tell you to take a week off, then take it.’
She folded her arms. ‘And do what?’
‘I don’t care,’ he said, mirroring her stance. ‘Sleep, eat, read, dance, skate.’
‘I don’t want to do those things!’ she burst out.
He braced his hand on the door frame, leaning into her. ‘Whatdoyou want, Greta?’
A dangerous question. Forbidden answers crowded on her tongue.
He watched her lips, silently daring her to voice them.
She reached for another snowflake. Not anger, but curiosity. ‘Did you send aid to my family?’
‘Yes,’ he said, at once.
‘Why?’
‘You know why.’
‘Tell me anyway,’ she said.
He dragged his gaze back to hers. ‘I sent aid to your family so you wouldn’t have to worry about them. I don’t want your beast to hunger for food any more. I want it to hunger for other things.’
She snorted, the rueful words slipping out before she could stop them. ‘Well, now it does.’
And it’s torture.
His eyes flashed. ‘What does it hunger for?’
She chewed on her bottom lip.
‘Tell me what your beast wants, Greta.’
She shook her head. No, no, she could not.
He leaned closer, his breath feathering her cheek. ‘Then show me,’ he said,a rasp in his voice. ‘Please.’
Please.
The word was her undoing. Suddenly, it was too much – this raging heat between them, that ravenous look in his eyes. She was molten with desire, so addled with lust, she couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to. She lifted her chin, closing the sliver of space between them.
Slowly, so very slowly, she brushed her lips against his. ‘This,’ she breathed, against his mouth. ‘This is what I want.’
‘Yes,’ he groaned, sliding his hand into her hair. ‘You can have it.’ His body trembled against hers, and Greta sensed the force of his need like a hurricane inside him. And yet his kiss was soft and searching. An answer to her own, and a question.
A plea for more.
He didn’t want to frighten her off. Greta had never been kissed before, had barely everthoughtabout being kissed, but in this moment, with this man, she had never felt so wildly alive, so close to the beast in her soul. It wantedmore.Shewanted more.
She wound her fingers in his collar, rising to her tiptoes until his body sank into hers, sealing every inch of space between them. She trailed her lips along his jaw, and he shuddered, still straining to taste her without devouring her.
She smiled, nudging her nose against his. ‘I won’t break.’
‘Yes, butImight.’ He kissed one corner of her mouth, and then the other. She opened for him, and his tongue swept in. She met him stroke for stroke, matching his hunger with her own. The beast inside her reared up, and she nipped at his bottom lip. He chuckled. ‘Do you want to play,wildling?’
