Page 62 of Gone Hunting

I shake off the feelings her touch causes, worried my desire will scare her like it scares me.

“I’m afraid of a lot of things,” she reminds me, the heaviness in her tone reflecting the kind of life she’s had. “But you’re not one of them.”

Relief floods me in languid ripples. “Good.”

“So,” she begins after a moment. “You have no idea how you got here?”

“I have some idea.”

“You do?” she asks.

“Yeah. You see, it started off when my mother and father fell in love and got married. After a while they thought, hey, we need a really cool kid to complete our family. So, one night—”

She nudges me playfully in the stomach, both of us laughing. “That’s enough out of you.” I can’t see her face, but I feel her smile like a ray of sunshine straight into my heart. “You’re doing this on purpose and blaming your actions on your poor wolf.”

“I swear I’m not.” I wonder if I should come clean about how I feel or if I’m better off shutting my trap. Ultimately, I swing open the trap and let it all come out. “If I was coming in here on purpose, would you mind?”

Celia stills in my arms. For a second, I’m sure I’ve gone too far. “Mind waking up next to you?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I answer almost silently.

The comforter and sheets rustle as she turns to face me. Her expression gives away her fear and, in her scent, I sense her apprehension. But her large eyes, the same eyes that shimmer when she laughs, reflect what I’m feeling. “No,” Celia whispers. “I wouldn’t mind.”

I cup her face and kiss her. There’s nothing slow about it. Not like in the movies. There’s no soft music to set the mood, or a buildup of sound to mirror the fear and excitement I feel. There’s just me capturing her mouth with mine.

My lips slide against hers while my fingertips graze down her cheek. I almost expect her to pull away and insist I’m doing it all wrong. I’m no expert. Instead, she welcomes my mouth, seeking as much of me as she can take.

My heart brutalizes my chest in the best way possible. I’m out of breath when we finally part and I’m not sure I remember my name. Like I said, I used to be cool. Now, all I am is head over heels for Celia.

The smile she greets me with makes the kiss and every moment we’ve shared alone that much sweeter.

My thumb passes across her jaw. “Was that all right?” I ask. I zero in on her full lips, wanting more than anything to return to them. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Never?” she asks.

My gaze travels over her face, taking in her thick lashes, her glistening eyes, and the almost invisible freckle on her cheek. That confidence I’m known for never seems to make an appearance around Celia in moments like this. I play with the strands of her hair, trying to disguise my nervousness and doing a lousy job. I didn’t feel us move much when we kissed, but the way her head of curls fans around us, I suppose we did.

“I was never really interested in females.” I meet her eyes. “Until now.”

Celia blinks several times. For a second, I’m sure she’s going to cry. I glance away, unable to bear it. “What about you? Have you kissed a lot of males?”

Why did I ask? Based on how good it was, Celia has experience and knows what she’s doing.

Celia’s cheeks flush with embarrassment and with what, God help me, resembles longing. “There’s only one boy I’ve ever kissed.”

I press my jaw tight. I suppose it was too much to hope for. “Oh,” I mutter. “Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised.”

Her hand slides over mine when I try to pull away. “Do you want to know his name?”

So I can hunt him down and break his legs? Sure. I shrug. “You can tell me if you want.”

“Are you sure?” She taps her chin, appearing to give it some thought. “You look a little mad there, wolf.”

“Positive,” I grumble. It’s one of those moments where I’m glad Celia can’t sniff a lie.

Her features soften, erasing her playful nature, and her voice is nothing more than a gentle stream of words. “His name is Aric and . . . I think I love him.”

I can’t breathe. Can’t move. Can’t . . . “What?”

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