His breath hitched. “Never,” he said hoarsely.
He kissed her.
The first brush was careful, like she might break. She didn’t. She caught his coat, dragged him closer.
Heat crashed through her, familiar and unfamiliar at once: eighteen and stupid in the snow, the ceremony’s sharpbite, ten years of what-ifs collapsing into now. He deepened the kiss, hand firm on her neck, their joined fingers tightening until it almost hurt.
“Mine,” he murmured against her mouth, low and rough.
She felt her own magic flare in response, the bond thrumming.
“Yours,” she said once, because he needed to hear it and so did she. “And you’re mine. Don’t forget that part.”
A sound rumbled out of him, almost a growl. In one motion, he eased her down onto the blanket, bracing himself so his weight didn’t crush her.
“Tell me no,” he said, voice frayed. “If you want to. You say it, I stop.”
Her heart hammered. Stars spun. Cold bit at any exposed skin. All of that felt far away.
“If I wanted to say no to this,” she said, fingers fisting in his shirt, “I wouldn’t have hiked up a mountain with you. ”
He exhaled, something like relief and surrender mixed, and kissed her again.
She didn’t know how many times she’d replayed the scene in her head. Him sneaking into her bedroom, like he had since they were kids, sitting together on her bed watching some dumb movie. It had been a few days after Arthur had confronted Fenred, and he…something was different. She had looked over to find him peering at her with a mix of confusion and awe.
Before she could ask what he was doing, he was kissing her. And she kissed him back. And when he undressed her, all she could say was,please, God, yes.
That had been a long time ago. They were both older, wiser. No longer fumbling teenagers. And yet, as he laid her down on the blanket, she felt that old shyness rising. That pounding awareness deep within her that he was so much bigger than her. So much stronger.
And shelikedit.
She kissed him back, deeper, her hands tangling in his long hair. He gave a groan of appreciation, the sound vibrating through his chest and rumbling over her like an ocean wave.
“Now is when you tell me to stop,” he rumbled, his lips kissing a fiery path down her jaw, her neck, pressing into the bite he had given her.
She sucked in a breath. Surely, surely she should tell him to stop. That was the sensible thing to do. That was what her mind screamed at her to do.
Instead, she sat upright abruptly, pushing him back. His eyes snapped open in surprise before growing heavy-lidded as he watched her hands trailing down her sweater, teasing the hem. Before she could think to second-guess herself, she yanked the material up and off, leaving her skin exposed to the cold Alaskan air.
Arthur’s gaze felt like fire as he took in her heaving stomach, her freckled shoulders, and the plain lace of her bra.
Then helunged.
She barely had time to squeal before she found herself nestled between his legs, back to his front, his heavy hands resting on her stomach.
His lips brushed her ear, and she shivered, instinctively arching backward into his warmth, and his answering chuckle made heat pool between her thighs.
“So it’s like that, then?”
She let her head fall back against his shoulder, relishing the tingles as his breath met her skin. His hands,Godhis hands, were pressing into her stomach, rubbing small circles over her flesh.
“Yes,” she said, “we’re mates, aren’t we? This is what mates do.”
He paused, pulling her impossibly closer to him. She could feel the evidence of his arousal at her back, something thick and hot and hard pressing into her spine.
“I don’t want to take advantage of that fact.”
“Arthur,” she said, somewhere between a begging whine and a fierce snarl, “I’m not some blushing virgin. I’m a grown woman. I’ve given birth. I know what I want.”
