Page 19 of Awakening the Wild
Asleep, Kevin was less intimidating but no less powerful. Dark stubble covered his jaw. His hair stuck up at odd angles from where I'd grabbed it last night. One massive arm was tucked under his pillow, the other kept me pinned against his side like he was afraid I'd disappear.
My body ached in unfamiliar places. Good aches. The kind that reminded me exactly what we'd done and how thoroughly he'd claimed me.
I should probably be freaking out. Should be second-guessing everything, analyzing whether I was rebounding or making another mistake. But lying here in his bed, wearing nothing but the scent of his skin, I couldn't make myself care about should.
Last night had been... I didn't have words for what last night had been.
I'd never made sounds like that before. Never felt that desperate, that uninhibited. Never trusted someone enough to just let go and feel. Kevin had coaxed things from me I didn't know existed—pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, need that made me beg, release that left me boneless and shaking.
And then he'd held me after like I was something precious instead of used up.
That was the part that kept catching in my chest. The gentleness underneath all that raw power. The way he'd checked in with me, praised me, made sure I was okay even when he was clearly fighting for control.
I'd spent two years having my body criticized and my pleasure treated like an inconvenience. In one night, Kevin had undone all of that damage. Made me feel powerful in my own skin again.
"You're thinking too loud," Kevin's rough voice made me jump. His eyes opened, dark and immediately alert. "Morning."
"Morning," I said, suddenly aware of my nakedness in the growing daylight.
His arm tightened, pulling me flush against him. "How do you feel?"
Sore. Confused. More alive than I'd been in years. "Okay," I said. "Different."
"Different how?" His hand slid down my spine, settling possessively on my hip.
"I don't know yet." I traced the line of muscle down his chest, feeling him tense under my touch. "I'm still figuring it out."
"Figure it out loud."
I met his eyes, saw genuine concern there mixed with something darker. Want. Need. The same hunger that had driven him last night.
"I've never felt like that," I admitted. "During... during sex. I didn't know I could."
His expression turned fierce. "You can. You did. And you will again."
"Kevin—"
"No." He rolled, pinning me beneath him with easy strength that made my breath catch. "Listen to me. Whatever that bastardmade you believe about yourself, about your body, about what you deserve—it was lies. All of it."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he kept going.
"You're not too much. You're not high maintenance. Your needs aren't inconvenient." His hand cupped my face, thumb stroking across my cheekbone. "And your pleasure? That's everything to me. Hearing you moan, watching you come, feeling you shake—that's what I want. Always."
"Why?" The question came out smaller than I intended. "Why do you care so much?"
"Because you're mine." He said it simply, like it explained everything. Maybe it did. "I take care of what's mine."
It should have felt suffocating. Instead, it felt like breathing for the first time in years.
"I love you," I said, then froze. Too fast. Too soon. Too everything.
"I love you too." No hesitation. Like it was fact, not feeling.
"We barely know each other."
"I know enough." His forehead pressed against mine. "I know you're stronger than you think. Braver than you believe. And exactly where you're supposed to be."
"In your bed?"
