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His mouth twitches. “You’re not subtle, are you?”
“Nope. You tried subtle once and I’m still recovering.”
He sighs, deep and bracing, like he’s gearing up for a confession -
Or a root canal.
“I didn’t accept it,” he says, “because I wasn’t sure if it was reallyyouoffering. Or just the heat talking.”
“It wasboth,” I blink. “What, you think I hallucinated your dick because I was sweaty and hormonal?”
Ash’s expression cracks slightly, but it’s there: the beginning of a smile.
“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“But you didn’t say no,” I say quietly. “You just didn’t say yes.”
“I want to say yes,” he says, finally looking at me fully. “But not when your body’s doing the talking. Not when it might be biology and not you.”
My heart does a little awkward flop.
“And what if it was me?” I ask. “Me, knowing it would make things easier. Calmer. Less hellish. What if I chose to trust you with that?”
He leans in again, thumb brushing my cheek, his voice soft.
“Then I’d still wait. Because I want it to mean something.”
God. Of course the big scary alpha with the haunted eyes and the combat boots is also a closet romantic.Figures.
I kiss his jaw gently, grateful.
“Fine,” I whisper. “But if I lose my mind again in two hours and try to climb you like a tree, I’m blaming hormones.”
He chuckles. “You can blame whatever you want, sweetheart.”
We stay like that for a while; warm and sweaty and tangled. And somehow, even though I’m half-naked and slicked in everything short of divine intervention, I don’t feel gross. Or guilty. Just...steady.
It’s later - when I’m nestled against his chest, mentally negotiating with my uterus not to combust again - that it hits me.
That feeling.
Low in my spine. Prickling at my skin.Apresence.
My eyes snap to the door, and I sit up, Ash’s come half-dry on my skin, heart suddenly thundering.
“Someone’s there.”
Ash stiffens instantly, instincts kicking into high alert. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Like... emotionally certain. And also spiritually unsettled.”
He doesn’t even blink, just nods. “Want me to drag them in by the neck?”
“Tempting,” I admit. “But maybe start with the door. Let’s keep the violence to a medium - at least until we know if they brought snacks.”
Ash glances toward the entrance, jaw tight, and then nods once - calm, controlled, murder-ready.
I exhale into his shoulder, already bracing myself for whichever alpha is lurking in the hallway like a creep with impeccable timing.
