But I’ll face them anyway.
I’ll stay until Wolf is well enough, steady enough, to have a conversation about this.About me leaving.About why I have to go.
I won’t disappear on him.I couldn’t do that.Not after today.
Smoothing my face with the heels of my palms, I square my shoulders and bite down the leftover tears until all that remains is a dull ache.
Steam swirls around me as I emerge from the bathroom.And I stop cold in the doorway.
“Wolf?”
He perches on the edge of my bed, wearing a purple housecoat that hides every scar.But nothing covers the damage on his face.
He looks haggard, ashen, lips drained of color, and shadows dug deep under his eyes.His hair hangs in damp, messy ropes.He’s been wrung out for hours, every drop of fight and fury squeezed from him.
His eyes lift to mine, all those vivid shades of blue reflecting in the light.
“You’re spooked.”A frown ghosts across his mouth.“Monty told me about the man on the pier.Your security team saw Jag there, too.”
“You have more important things—”
“Nothing’s more important thanyou.”He pauses, staring at his hands, anxiously twiddling his thumbs.“But Jag and the stalker on the pier didn’t spook you.Idid.My breakdown.I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“You deserve a conversation, and I’ll give that to you.I’ll tell you what happened today.And what happened last year.And the twenty-three years before that.”His thumbs stop moving, and he slowly drags his eyes to mine.“But not tonight.”
My throat tightens.
“Tonight….”He swallows, and his voice dips with vulnerability.“I just want to sleep beside you if you’ll allow that.”
How could I ever refuse him?I nod rapidly, rushing forward until my feet land between his.“Can I hug you?”
For a second, he regards me, a twitch feathering at the corner of his eye.Then he rises from the bed, the movement forcing me to shuffle back.He opens his arms.Not wide or theatrical.Just enough.Just for me.
I go to him, falling into him, my cheek smashing against his chest, and my arms forming a vise around his broad frame.The scents of soap, rain, and his signature, feral notes of the wild flood me with relief.
The physical contact does swirly, glowy things to my heart.He’s solid.So damn strong and solid.Heat radiates through the thin layers of fabric between us, and I want to sink into it, lose myself there.
His arms cinch around me, rock-hard but trembling, like he’s terrified I’ll vanish if he loosens his grip.
We both need this.Affection, anchoring, and proof of life.
But there’s something else.Something hard and urgent, jabbing between us.
I flinch, not away, but in shock.The timing isn’t great after his catatonic breakdown on the shower floor.I didn’t expect him to be thinking about sex.But if he wants to take me right here, right now, I’ll give myself to him without hesitation.Happily.Willingly.Desperately.
I move my hand lower, tracing the rigid shape of him.
“Dove.”He groans darkly and seizes my wrist, shaking his head.“No.”
“I’m so sorry.”I jerk my hand away.
“Trust me.I’m the one who’s sorry.My head’s in a fucked-up place.”He rests his forehead against mine and recaptures my wrist.“My body doesn’t care.It’ll always react when you touch me.But tonight…” His grip softens, thumb brushing my skin.“I can’t.Not until we talk, okay?Tonight, I just want to be near you.With you.Just us in the present moment.”
What he wants, it’s more intimate than anything physical he could’ve asked of me.It’s… Gentle.Strange, but gentle.No weight of expectation pressing down.No hands reaching for more.Just him, here, choosing me without an angle.
He came to my room to be with me, not to take from me.That’s new.That’s different.With men, I’ve never hadthis.
