Page 22 of Mine to Take

I shake that disturbing thought loose before it can take root.

With my fingers still wrapped around her thigh, I give it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll make it good for you.”

I almost wince.

When was the last time I had to cajole a girl into sleeping with me?

The answer to that question is never.

She studies my face before nodding. With a jerk of her fingers, she pops open the door and steps out. The crunch of snow fills the silence that has settled around us as I do the same. It takes no more than a handful of seconds before I catch up to her on the concrete path that cuts through the front lawn. Air gets clogged in my lungs at the way the silvery moonlight slants down on the loose strands of her hair as they bounce around her shoulders and down her back.

Even in the darkness of the night, she’s like bright sunshine illuminating the way.

My hand slips around her waist as we head up the rickety front porch stairs.

The warm weight of her pressed against my body feels good.

Right.

Almost as if we’ve come home together a million times before and this is nothing out of the ordinary.

There’s an ease between us that shouldn’t be there.

I don’t understand it.

It’s only when I slip the key into the lock that I realize that her fingers aren’t the only ones shaking with pent-up nerves. I clear my throat, only wanting to draw her attention away from them so she doesn’t notice. Throwing the door open, I steer her toward the staircase and then the second floor. Every step that brings us closer to my room has my heart jackhammering harder until it thuds painfully in my chest.

When was the last time I felt this kind of anticipation thrum through my veins? The need to lay my hands on her is all I can focus on. In this moment, nothing else matters.

Not even the possibility that she belongs to River fucking Thompson.

By the time I step over the threshold into my room, my skin is buzzing with adrenaline.

One twist of the lock and I’m ready to pounce.

8

Willow

Hunger burns brightly from his dark eyes as he stares at me like I’m the only thing he’s cognizant of. Like he plans on swallowing me whole in one tasty bite. It’s doubtful anyone has ever looked at me with so much pent-up intensity.

Longing.

Desire.

It’s a heady sensation.

An addictive one.

Everywhere his gaze caresses tingles with newfound awareness as electricity pulses in the air around us. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if the room burst into flames and I combusted with it.

He cocks his head. “Are you ready for me, sunshine?”

Anticipation dances down my spine. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more ready for anything in my life than this man.

For this precise moment in time.

I didn’t realize it until now.

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