Page 45 of Jesse
He nodded, breathless.
We made our way there between more kisses, more hands. Soon enough, we were both completely undressed.
Once in the room, I didn’t rush him. I took my time, laid him down like he was something precious.
Because, hell, maybe he was. It wasn’t just sex. I’d had sex. Plenty of it. But this?
This felt different. This felt like something I didn’t want to end.
Like I wanted to fall asleep beside him and wake up to his messy hair and tired eyes in the morning. We didn’t rush.
I crawled on top of Beck, kissing his mouth slowly, thoroughly enjoying myself.
He tasted like beer and something sweet, something uniquely him that I was quickly getting addicted to.
His lips were soft, parting under mine with a breathy sigh that made heat bloom low in my belly.
I kissed him again, deeper this time, savoring every slow drag and slide of our mouths, every gentle bite, every soft sound he made.
Beck’s hands roamed over my back, nails lightly grazing my skin as he pulled me closer.
Our bare chests brushed together and the contact, warm, intimate, grounding, and it nearly undid me.
I moved lower, pressing kisses along his jaw, then down his neck.
I lingered there, tongue darting out to taste the salty skin at the hollow of his collarbone, and Beck arched up into me like he couldn’t help it.
God, he was beautiful like this. Flushed, panting, eyes dark and dazed as he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world.
My lips found the tender spot between his shoulder and neck, and I froze. My gaze lingered there. On that soft, unmarked skin, and something primal stirred in my chest.
One word echoed through me like thunder: Ours.
My wolf surged up so fast it nearly stole my breath. He didn’t just whisper it. He claimed it, with raw certainty and bone-deep hunger.
Ours. Mate.
I shuddered, every nerve ending suddenly sparking with need. Not just for sex. Not just to touch or taste or take. It was deeper than that. More dangerous. I wanted to mark him.
Right there, on that delicate spot just beneath his neck.
I wanted to sink my teeth in and make him mine, brand him with my claim so every shifter from here to the damn border would know he belonged to someone. To me.
Because Beck wasn’t just some guy I liked. He wasn’t just a partner in food truck competitions or someone I flirted with over beers and brisket.
He was my fated mate. The truth of it hit like a punch to the gut, brutal in its clarity.
That was why this felt different. Why everything with him was sharper, sweeter, more intense than anything I’d ever experienced.
Why his laugh settled my nerves and his scent made my heart race. Why no one else had ever gotten under my skin like this.
Beck. My mate.
And yet… I couldn’t tell him. Not yet. Maybe he didn’t feel it. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I was ready.
The last thing I wanted to do was scare him off or push him into something he wasn’t expecting, especially not when things were just starting to shift between us.
As much as my wolf clawed at me from the inside, urging me to mark, to claim, to seal the bond that had already rooted itself in my soul, I held firm.
