Page 90 of Bookish Girl’s Emergency Contact Is a Lycan King

“The crêpes,” he manages between kisses.

“Will keep.”

“They’re getting cold.”

“Orion.” I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “I don’t care about the crêpes.”

His expression shifts. Cracks open.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” I reach up, touch his jaw, feel the muscle flex beneath my fingers. “I want this. I want you. Not because of the bond or the fate thing or any of that. Just because you’re you. Because you make me feel safe and drive me crazy and alphabetize my creamers.”

“That was practical…”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He does.

This time there’s no hesitation. He kisses me like I’m oxygen, like he’s been holding his breath for days and can finally breathe. One hand cradles my jaw while the other fists in my hair, angling me exactly where he wants me, and I feel the soft scrape of his teeth against my lower lip.

“Bedroom,” he says against my mouth.

“Here is fine.”

“I want…” He pauses, and I can feel him struggling with something. “I want to take my time. I want to do this right.”

“You always do everything right. It’s annoying.”

“Fable.”

“Fine. Bedroom.”

He scoops me up, one arm under my knees, the other at my back, carrying me bridal-style back through the house. The plate of perfect crêpes sits abandoned on the counter as we pass, and I laugh against his neck at the absurdity of it all.

“You’re laughing,” he observes.

“You’re carrying me away from breakfast like a romance novel hero.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“It’s an observation.”

The bedroom is bright with snow-light, the windows turned to mirrors by the white world outside. He sets me down on the edge of the bed with exaggerated care, then stands back to look at me.

“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” His voice is rough. “I just want to remember this.”

“Remember what?”

“You. Here. In my shirt.” He reaches out, traces the collar where it gapes open at my throat. “Choosing me.”

“I already chose you. Multiple times.”

“I know. But those were…” He pauses, searching for words. “Before. Before you knew everything. Before the confessions and the secrets and all of it.”

“And now?”