Page 26 of Wolf It Down, Knot Me Up

No sign of Ethan.

I put my hand flat on the front door and think, very clearly, this is a mistake. I open it anyway.

Cold air brings his scent right into my nostrils and through me like a shot of liquor on an empty stomach. Every hair on my arms stands while my mouth waters. Low in my belly, that ache uncoils, stretching out.

I hold on to the doorframe with a death grip.

“You shouldn’t have come down.” His voice is rough, ragged around the edges, as though he hasn’t spoken in hours. He stands a few feet back from the bottom step, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. The porch light illuminates the hard planes of his face, the tight set of his jaw, the tension running through his shoulders. He’s keeping his distance.

A faint breeze whispers between us, carrying his familiar scent, and it awakens something within me. Need crashes through me so suddenly that my knuckles turn white around the doorknob. It isn’t just attraction. It’s hunger, and beneath it runs a longing deep enough for my chest to ache.

Loneliness.

Restraint.

Desperation.

I suck in a sharp breath because none of those feelings are mine. Bonded partners can sense each other’s emotions, and these are Roman’s.

My stomach drops because us being bound together is fucking real, even if I didn’t want to believe it before.

“Why are you standing outside my window at two in the morning?” My voice comes out quieter than I’d intended. “There’s a version of tonight where I call the sheriff.”

One corner of his mouth curls upward. “There’s a version where you should, because I’m unsure if I can walk away.”

The admission steals my breath.

He glances toward the dark tree line behind him before looking in my direction again. “Keep telling myself to return to the cabin.” His jaw flexes.

My heart twists, and not because of his words but because I feel the truth of them, that relentless pull, the frustration, and the battle he’s been fighting with himself all night.

And somehow it’s echoing inside me as though it’s my own.

“How’s that going?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

A shadow of a smile appears. “You’re looking at it.”

I take one careful step down, then another. “Why are you really here, Roman?” I need to hear him say it, because if I’m the only one carrying this impossible thing inside me, then I’ve finally lost my mind… and I’d rather know now.

His jaw clenches, and for a long moment, he just stares at me as though deciding whether telling me the truth is kinder than letting me think he’s crazy.

“Because I can’t stay away.” His hand drags slowly over the back of his neck before dropping again. “I tried.” His laugh is short and humorless. “God knows I tried.” His eyes find mine again, impossibly steady despite everything else about him appearing wound up too tight. “I just can’t sleep.” His voice lowers. “Knowing you’re fifty yards away and every instinct I’ve got keeps dragging me back to you.”

The air catches in my lungs.

“And then…” His gaze drops for the briefest second to my mouth before lifting. “Then I started feeling you.”

My heartbeat stutters.

“Your fear.” His brow furrows. “Your confusion.” His expression softens.

My knees nearly give way because I wasn’t imagining it. He’s just as tangled in this as I am, carrying the same relentless pull and impossible craving. It takes every ounce of willpower not to step off the last stair and press myself against the warmth of him.

God… what is happening to us?

“Shit, Lucy…” The words scrape out of him.

I laugh. It’s quiet and a little unhinged, but what else am I supposed to do? “I do have a complaint,” I say.