Page 62 of Hunter Moon

“Hey, baby,” he mumbled against my temple. His broad, strong hands ran across my back. His fingertips slipped over the exposed skin between my T-shirt and boxers.

I moaned, pushing in and welding myself to his front. The scent of him alone got me hard.

“I missed you so much,” I rasped, but that wasn’t me. I’d have tried to bite those words back, so I didn’t seem as desperate or pathetic as I felt, or so I didn’t make Aspen feel worse for leaving. But my wolf wasn’t having that. So close to the surface, it needed Aspen to know I’d felt it when he was gone—was comforted now by his nearness.

“Missed you too, Brook.” He held me close, his neck pressing mine. There was a rumble in his chest, and it resonated in my own.

I slid my hands under his shirt to feel the warm, firm slopes of muscle. He pulled back, taking his hands off my body just long enough to let me pull the shirt over his head and toss it aside.

He was breathing hard, his broad shoulders rising and falling dramatically, making him look more vital than ever, like he was every single thing I needed in the world—every kind of sustenance I’d ever cared about.

I leaned in to drag my tongue over his pec. His breath caught. His hand pressed the nape of my neck, holding tight like he’d keep me there forever.

“Can I take off your shirt?” Aspen asked.

I wiggled to comply, hardly wanting enough space between us to accomplish the task. Somehow, we managed. And it was worth it. His skin against mine, his heartbeat setting a smooth pace for my own, was bliss.

Right up until the second one broken word escaped his lips. “Brook?”

I pulled back, and he was staring right down at my shoulder, where Maxim Reid’s teeth had marked my skin, and where Aspen’s own brother had done his best to repair the damage.

There was still a scar, and around the line that Linden had left, a few raised marks that were once obviously from a bite and now did not look like much of anything.

But it was the first time Aspen had seen me shirtless since he’d gotten back. No doubt, there were other ways my body had changed in the years he’d been gone, some parts getting firmer, some softer, the balance of my body shifting. But this awful scar was the change he focused on, and I wanted to shrink and whine from his survey.

His hand closed on top of my shoulder, like he hoped he could melt the scar away with the heat of his palm.

I understood that—wished it sometimes too. I put my hand on top of his and squeezed.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, leaning to catch the gaze he had locked on my shoulder. “Right?”

A stab of fear went through me, that knowing I’d had another alpha’s mating mark would be too much for him, and he’d disappear again.

Suddenly, his eyes met mine. The anguish from just a moment ago was muted. It wasn’t like it was gone, exactly, just that he was pushing it down. He was still sad, still hurt that I was hurt, but it wasn’t the world-ending moment I’d feared.

“Of course. Of course it’s okay.” His thumb swiped gently over my neck. “But can we talk for a minute?”

My head was spinning, all my emotions darting between one extreme and the next by the haze of my heat. But if Aspen wanted to talk, I’d try. “Sure.”

He led me back to my bed, then sat at the edge beside me. That he kept his hands on my skin and moving was the only thing that kept me from sulking. But there he was, one hand on my knee, his fingertips drawing tiny circles right on the inside of my thigh. He gripped one of my hands in his other.

“Brook, I want you to know that if all you want to do is cuddle and watch TV, that’s okay.”

I huffed. The only sound I wanted was his panted breath, not whatever daytime television had to offer. “And if I want more?” Finally, there was Aspen’s grin to break the seriousness of the moment.

“That is definitely okay with me too.” But his hand didn’t inch any higher up my leg, and I found myself shifting toward it to try and get more of his touch. I’d just wiggle down, slip off the end of the bed, and he’d catch me with his hand cupped against my groin. If that’s what it took, damn it, I’d go for it.

“I’m here for anything and everything that makes you feel safe and makes you feel good,” he said, “but I think that’ll go better if we talk, just a little, about what that looks like for you.”

My nose flared when I huffed. For a second, the entire idea was offensive. Aspen had always known what I needed before. Had he forgotten? Had we changed so much?

But that was all heat and impulse, that desperate demand for him to touch menow. What Aspen was actually doing was admitting I’d been hurt and trying not to exacerbate it. Because he cared about me. That was the whole reason I wanted him there, the reason why I’d been so afraid until he’d opened the door, then it’d all disappeared. I knew he’d never hurt me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath to try and take the edge off. “Okay, yeah.”

I dropped my hand and smiled nervously at him, that feeling at odds with my flushed, sweat-slick skin. I hated thinking I was fragile, but I wanted this to be good for us both. If I freaked out in the middle because of an avoidable trigger, that would only make both of us feel bad.

“So it’d probably be good if you stayed where I could see you,” I said. “And talk to me. A lot. I only want to hear your voice.”

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