I let him.
Every touch is filled to the brim with love. Every glance, full of something deeper than I have a name for.
Once he’s done, he crawls back into bed and pulls me against his chest again, covering us both with the blanket. His scent wraps around me, anchoring me to the moment, and I feel my entire body start to relax again.
“Do you regret it?” he asks after a long beat, voice almost too soft to hear.
“No,” I breathe. “Not for a second.”
He exhales with relief.
Then he kisses my temple, lingering there for a beat before whispering, “I think I started falling in love with you the moment you swatted at my back and called me a brute for picking you up and throwing you over my shoulder, after you tried to walk home ten miles in heels.”
I blink up at him, the corners of my lips tugging into a smile. “You were a brute.”
“Still am.”
“But now you’re my brute,” I murmur, tucking myself against his chest, letting his scent wrap around me.
His chest shakes with a soft laugh, the kind that’s only meant for me. “Damn right.”
And with his warmth wrapped around me and his hand stroking lazily over my spine, I let my eyes flutter closed.
And his rumbling laugh is the last thing I hear before I drift off again.
CHAPTER 61
Graham
Hunter’sthe first one I see when the bedroom door creaks open. His shoulders are loose, more relaxed than I’ve seen them in weeks. But it’s Willow behind him—barefoot, cheeks pink, her hair a soft, tangled mess, in my hoodie—that really gets me.
She’s glowing.
And I know.
Even before she tilts her head to nudge into his side, before she smiles up at him like she’s safe for the first time in a long time—I know.
My eyes drop to her neck.
The mark is faint, still fresh, but it’s there. Right below her pulse, lower than a normal mark. A soft crescent, unmistakable. If she were in her clothes, I wouldn’t even see it.
My chest tightens.
I want to say I’m surprised. That I didn’t see this coming. But I did. Anyone with eyes could’ve seen the pull between them.
Hunter’s gaze finds mine, and there’s something defiantin it—defiant and protective. He’s ready for me to say something. Maybe even expecting it.
But I just nod.
Because what am I gonna do? Be angry that she’s trusting us? That she’s choosing one of us in that way?
No. I’ll never punish her for giving her heart away. Especially not to someone who’s been proving he deserves it every damn day.
Still, I feel the burn of something bitter at the back of my throat. Not jealousy, exactly. Just…ache.
Because I want that too.
And I know it’ll come. She’s already halfway mine in the way she looks at me, the way she bites back her sass when I bark orders, the way her scent goes soft and warm when I’m near.
