Blake POV
Her breathing had evened out, a soft, steady rhythm that spoke of exhausted sleep. For a few precious minutes, I let myself believe the storm had passed. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her full lips parted slightly with each exhale. Even in repose, she was a temptation designed to unravel me. My little wolf.
But the peace was a lie. I could feel it building again, a pressure in the room, a rising temperature that had nothing to do with my own fire. The scent of her—jasmine and wild rain and pure, undiluted need—began to thicken the air once more. Her skin, so smooth and flawless, flushed a deep rose even as she slept. The heat was returning, and it was fiercer than before. Her wolf was not just awake; it was demanding.
A low groan escaped her, a sound
