My friends didn’t ask what happened when I came back smelling like desire and anger. I’d wanted that grizzly so damn badly, and he’d shot me down… just like I’d told him to.
It was frustrating. Part of me had hoped he would ignore my request and let his instincts take over so I could walk away from him in confidence, knowing he didn’t care enough to tell me the truth or respect my wishes.
But he didn’t. He listened, and he respected me. Even when it was clearly difficult for him—his claws were entirely embedded in that tree when I left. It’d take him at least a minute or two to get free.
Of course, he and his Harley caught up to us on the highway. He followed us all the way to the damn cabin, and I didn’t ask Noah to lose him. It seemed like a waste of effort when he so clearly planned
