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"I know what it means. I also know you've been circling it like a dog with a bone, no pun intended, and it's getting a little old."

A laugh scrapes out of my chest. "You're not supposed to be this calm about it."

"What am I supposed to be? Terrified? You're the one who's scared." She leans forward, hands pressing into the mattress. "You're the one who keeps almost saying it and then backing off like I'm going to run."

"Because I don't want to hurt you."

"I know what the bite does, Gage." Her voice softens. "I've done my homework. I've also been able to feel that tight leash you keep yourself on. I'm not fragile."

I swallow, my throat dry. "If I bite you, there's no going back. We've bonded but this will make it permanent. You'll always hear me in your head. You'll always feel what I feel."

"Good. Then you'll finally stop pretending you don't lose your mind over me."

My pulse kicks hard. My wolf presses against my ribs, hungry and restless. My gums ache where my canines want to drop, and I force it down with everything I have.

"I need you ready," I say. "If you're not completely ready…" I stop. Run a hand over my face. "I won't let it hurt. I need you so far gone you don't even feel teeth. Just pleasure."

Her pupils dilate. I watch it happen. That slow expanse of dark over hazel, the way her breath changes, the way her body shifts unconsciously toward me. She understands exactly what I’m saying and I can smell her arousal.

"Then stop talking," she says, "and make me ready."

I move before the words fully leave her mouth. My hands find her waist and pull her across the bed, closing the distance in one motion that makes the mattress shift under us. She gasps, not from surprise, but from the sudden contact, from the heat of my palms through the thin fabric of her shirt.

I kiss her.

I kiss her the way I’ve been wanting to since the last time, when she took charge and left me shaking. My mouth covers hers and my teeth catch her lower lip. She makes a sound against me that goes straight through my chest, down to my cock.

Her hands grip my shoulders. I feel her nails dig in and I want more, I want harder.

"I love you," I say against her mouth. The words come out rough, stripped down, the kind of confession a man makes when he’s past the point of strategy."I love you, Maren. I have been losing my fucking mind trying not to say it over and over."

She pulls back just enough to look at me. Her eyes are so bright, wet at the edges, and her expression isn’t smug or teasing. It’s open. Raw.

"I love you too. So much."

I kiss her again, softer this time, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck. Her hair is short and soft under my fingers, black against my knuckles. I tilt her head and deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against hers, tasting her slow and thorough until her breathing goes ragged and her hips press against me.

I pull her shirt over her head. She lets me, arms up, chin lifting, watching me with those darkened eyes. No bra, her breasts full and heavy in my hands. I bend my head and take one nipple into my mouth while my thumb rolls the other.

"Gage, oh my God!"

Her voice breaks on my name. I love that. Love hearing it crack, love the way her back arches and her fingers tighten in my hair. I switch sides, tongue circling, teeth grazing just enough to make her squirm. I pinch the wet nipple my mouth left behind, rolling it between my fingers while I suck the other one. She makes sounds I can feel in my spine.

I lie her back against the pillows. She goes willingly, black hair fanning across the dark pillowcase, skin flushed from her cheeks to her chest. I kiss down her stomach, slow, deliberate, dragging my lips over every inch of skin. Her fingers are in my hair, tugging, guiding, and I let her. I remember how much she likes being in charge, and I also remember how much I like making her lose control of that.

I hook my fingers into her shorts and pull them down. No underwear. The sight of her bare hit me like a physical punch. She’s wet, and the scent of her is thick enough to taste in the air. My wolf snarls with want. I hold it down by a thread.

"Spread your legs for me."

She does. Slowly. Watching me watch her. And God, she’s beautiful. Pink and swollen and glistening, and I can smell her arousal so clearly it makes my mouth water, makes my wolf growl. I trail my lips down and lick her.

Her hips jerk off the bed. I press one hand flat against her stomach, holding her down, and work her with my tongue. Slowly at first, with long, flat strokes that cover her from opening to clit and back again. She tastes exactly the way I remember, and I groan against her. I’ve been craving her musk for weeks.

"Fuck, Gage!"

I slide two fingers inside her. She clamps around them immediately, tight and hot and so wet it’s obscene. I curl them forward, finding her spot, pressing down while my tongue circles her clit in tight, focused strokes.

Her thighs shake. Her fingers pull my hair hard enough to sting. I don’t stop. I fuck her with my fingers and lick her with a precision that makes her whole body tense. I feel her climbing, that gathering tightness in her walls, the way her breathing goes shallow and fast.