Page 83 of Daisy
The idea makes me practically glow with happiness. We'd be figuring it out together. Choosing each other.
"You really think he'd want that? With me?"
"He'd be absolutely thrilled," Hawk says, dead serious. "Question is—do you want it?"
I think about Gunner's steady presence. The way he makes me feel protected without feeling trapped. The warmth in his green eyes when he looks at me like I'm something precious. The way his scent—sandalwood and wild fig—makes me feel grounded and safe.
"Yes," I say, and my voice is stronger now, more certain. "I really, really want that."
"Then let's make it happen." Hawk's grin is absolutely brilliant. "You stay right here where I can see you. I'm going inside to tell everyone to give you two some space. Then I'm sending our boy out here."
"What if I chicken out?"
"Then you chicken out and we try again tomorrow," he says like it's the simplest thing in the world. "No pressure, remember? Just possibility."
Before I can lose my nerve completely, he's striding back toward the cabin. I watch him disappear inside and hear the low rumble of voices through the windows. My heart pounds as I wait, and I can smell my own need spiking.
A few minutes later, Gunner emerges alone, his eyes finding me immediately across the clearing.
My heart pounds as he approaches, and I think about what Hawk said. About first kisses and waiting and choices.
For the first time in my life, I'm about to choose something just because I want it.
And I want Gunner's mouth on mine more than I want my next breath.
Chapter 23
Gunner
When Hawk told me Daisy wanted to see me outside, my first thought was that something was wrong. But the look on his face wasn't worried—it was the kind of excited that usually meant trouble.
"What did you say to her?" I asked.
"Nothing she didn't already know," he said, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to bruise. "Just go, man. She's waiting by the trees. And Gunner?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't overthink this."
Now I'm walking toward her, trying to calm my racing heart and ignore the fact that I've been half-hard since Hawk's cryptic instructions and knowing grin. She looks small against the backdrop of bare trees, drowning in August's oversized sweater, dark hair whipping around her face in the wind.
Beautiful. She's always beautiful, but out here in the wild, she looks like she belongs. Like she's finally where she's supposed to be. And the way she's looking at me as I get closer—nervous but determined—makes my cock twitch with interest.
Her scent hits me before I'm even close. Honeysuckle and vanilla, but sweeter than usual. Richer. I can smell her need even through the suppressants, and it makes my alpha practically preen with satisfaction.
Shit, I'm in trouble.
"Hey," I say when I reach her, shoving my hands in my pockets of my hoodie to keep from reaching for her. "Hawk said you wanted to talk?"
She turns to face me fully, and I can see the nervousness in her expression. But there's something else too. Something that looks like determination mixed with want. Her scent spikes, and I have to fight the urge to step closer.
"I did," she says quietly. "I wanted to ask you something."
"Shoot."
She takes a breath, and I watch her gather her courage like she's putting on armor. "Hawk told me... he said you've never been kissed either."
Heat creeps up my neck. Of all the things I thought she might ask, this wasn't on the list. But the way she's looking at me—curious, not judgmental—makes something in my chest ease. And her scent... fuck, she smells good. Like want and nerves and something that's purely omega.
