Page 37 of Wanderlust With Wolves

I hold her gaze, making sure she understands—making sure she knows she is what I want.

“The question you need to ask yourself isn’t what you’ll do in some hypothetical future.”

I press a kiss to her knuckles, watching as she shivers, exhales shakily.

“It’s what you want right now.”

Her lips part, and I can hear her heartbeat pick up, fast and unsteady.

“If you keep choosing me,” I murmur, “then that’s all that’s needed.”

I give her time.

I let her process.

And then?—

“Do you want me, Maya?”

For a single, terrifying moment, she doesn’t answer.

And then?—

“Yes.”

A whisper, but firm. Certain.

I exhale, relief flooding through me, and kiss her tears away.

She relaxes against me, something loosening inside her, a knot of tension uncoiling, melting away.

She clings to me,pressing her face into my chest, fingers gripping at my fur, her body trembling with something unspoken, raw.

“I was scared,” she admits, voice muffled against my skin.

I rub slow, soothing circles along her back, murmuring, “Of what, sweetheart?”

Her fingers tighten. “Losing you.”

I still, letting her words sink in.

“I hold people at a distance,” she whispers, “so it won’t hurt when they leave me.”

I exhale, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“It’s okay to feel,” I tell her. “It’s okay to let yourself want.”

She swallows, her arms sliding around my waist, holding me tighter.

I coax her onto the couch, guiding her gently, carefully, making her sit back, letting her feel safe, comfortable, cherished.

I let her take the pleasure I give her.

I let her lose herself in sensation, in the feeling of my hands exploring her, in the way I stroke, tease, ignite every nerve and pulse point beneath my fingertips.

I want her to feel everything.

I want her to know she doesn’t have to run from this.

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