“Chloe? Is something–”
She turned and closed the distance between them and pressed her lips hard against Corin’s.
22
CORIN
She came back.
That was all Corin could think as Chloe stepped back into his house and shut the door behind her. She'd been leaving. He'd watched her walk away, had felt his bear whine in protest even as he'd forced himself to stay still, to respect her need for time.
And then she'd come back.
"Chloe? Is something?—"
She crossed the room in quick strides and pressed her mouth to his.
This kiss was different from the one before. Harder. More desperate. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her, and when she spoke against his lips, her voice shook.
"I still need time. But I'm tired of fighting what I already know."
His hands found her waist, steadying her, steadying himself. "What do you know?"
"That I want this. Want you." She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, and what he saw there made his chest ache.Vulnerability. Determination. Fear, yes, but not of him. Fear of herself, of what she was admitting. "I've been so scared of hoping for something real that I almost walked away from it."
"You can still walk away." The words cost him everything, but he meant them. "I told you. The choice is yours."
"I know." Her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, coming to rest at the back of his neck. "I'm choosing to stay."
Something broke open inside him. This was different. This was permission. This was her, choosing him, not because fate demanded it but because she wanted to.
He kissed her again, slower this time. Savoring. Her lips were soft, slightly chapped from the cold, and she tasted like chamomile tea and something sweeter underneath. His mate. His chosen mate, choosing him back.
"We don't have to do anything tonight," he murmured against her mouth. "We can just... be. Talk. Whatever you need."
"I need you." She said it simply, without hesitation. "I've needed you for longer than I wanted to admit."
His control, already frayed, slipped another notch. "Chloe."
"Show me what it feels like. Being yours." Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently. "Not the bond. Not the magic. Just... us."
Just us.
He could do that. He could give her that.
He lifted her easily, one arm beneath her knees, the other cradling her back. She made a surprised sound but didn't protest, her arms winding around his neck as he carried her toward the stairs.
"Your shoulder," she said, eyeing the bandage.
"Doesn't hurt."
"Liar."
"Doesn't hurt enough to matter." He planted a kiss to her forehead as he climbed. "Nothing hurts when you're in my arms."
The bedroom was simple, like the rest of the house. A large bed with a hand-carved headboard, thick quilts in earth tones, a window that looked out over the moonlit orchard. He set her down on the mattress and stepped back, giving her space.
She looked at him, pale blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, green eyes luminous in the low light. Beautiful. She was so beautiful it made his chest hurt.
