“You’ve also built me a nest, carried me home when I was drunk, and shoveled my driveway without being asked.” She smiled up at him. “I’ve seen who you are, Ben. The real you. And I’m not afraid.”
Something blossomed inside his chest. Something that had been locked away for six years, protected behind walls of discipline and control. He felt it open, felt the pieces rearrange themselves around this woman who looked at him like he was worth loving.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said roughly.
“Probably not.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “But you’re stuck with me now. You said so yourself—mating for life, remember?”
“Sara—”
“So stop worrying and kiss me already.”
He kissed her.
This time, he didn’t hold back quite so much. Still careful—still aware of his strength, his claws, the wildness pacing behind his ribs—but less afraid. She wanted him. All of him. The grumpy tavern owner and the possessive rabbit Other and the male who’d spent six years running from this exact moment.
She wanted it all.
His hands roamed her body with renewed purpose, tracing familiar paths and discovering new ones. The curve of her waist. The dip of her lower back. The way she gasped when he gripped her hips just so, lifting her over him and positioning her exactly where he wanted her.
“Ben—” His name was a plea on her lips.
“I’ve got you.” The same words from last night, already becoming a litany between them. “Always.”
He slid into her slowly, savoring every inch, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. But there was only pleasure there—her eyes fluttering closed, her lips parting, her whole body arching to welcome him.
Mine, the instinct roared.
Hers, his heart answered.
He moved with deliberate care, finding a rhythm that made her breath catch and her nails dig into his shoulders. Not as frantic as last night, but no less intense. Every thrust was purposeful, designed to draw out her pleasure, to watch her come apart above him again and again.
“You feel—god, Ben?—”
“Tell me.” He needed to hear it. Needed to know he was giving her what she needed. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. Just you. Always—oh?—”
Her words dissolved into a moan as he shifted angles, hitting a spot that made her whole body tremble. He filed that information away for later, already cataloging every detail of what made her gasp, what made her shiver, what made her say his name like it was the only word she knew.
The pleasure built between them like a rising tide—inevitable, unstoppable, pulling them both under. He felt his control fraying at the edges, felt the instincts surging up to take over, and for once he didn’t fight it.
Careful,he reminded himself.Careful with her.
But careful didn’t mean restrained. It meant present. Aware. Making sure every moment was about them, about this connection, about the choice they’d both made to be here together.
She came first, her body clenching around him, her cry muffled against his shoulder. Ben followed moments later, groaning her name into the curve of her neck, losing himself in the overwhelming sensation of being exactly where he belonged.
They lay tangled together afterward, breathing hard, sweat-damp skin cooling in the morning air. He pulled a blanket over them without thinking about it—nesting instinct, he realized dimly—and gathered her against his chest.
“Okay,” she murmured after a long moment. “You may have been right about the stamina thing.”
He laughed, the sound surprising him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much. Probably not since before the band fell apart. Maybe not ever.
“Told you.”
“Don’t be smug.” She poked his chest. “It’s unbecoming.”
“You love it.”
