And me? I should’ve looked away. Should’ve respected her. Should’ve left.
I didn’t.
Awkward? That doesn’t cover it. Hell. It was hell.
She glared at me from beneath the hem of that darn shirt, hair dripping down her back like wildfire made flesh. She thought she was punishing me with her pettiness. Truth was, I’d never wanted anyone more.
Every step back I told myself to focus. On the bear earlier. On the training. On anything other than the way her legs peeked out beneath my shirt. But my wolf was pacing. Restless. Whispering mine with every breath she took.
By the time we reached the cottage, Nonna was waiting at the door like a tiny general, wooden spoon raised.
We were dripping river water and radiating enough awkward tension to choke a dragon, my wolf was clawing inside me like
