Her movement surprised me—not because I didn’t want her, but because I felt how intentional it was.
When she straddled me, it wasn’t hunger alone. It was trust.
My wolf’s low growl rolled through my chest before I could stop it, a sound of approval, of recognition, of mine—but I forced him down immediately. This wasn’t about claiming. This was about choosing.
I placed my hands on her hips, firm but steady, grounding both of us.
“Bunny,” I murmured, my voice rougher now, honest. “You don’t owe me closeness to prove anything. Not love. Not trust. Not healing.”
Her forehead rested against mine, her breath warm, uneven.
“I want you,” I admitted quietly, because she deserved truth, not restraint disguised as virtue. “But I want you whole more than I want you now.”
She stilled at that.
“
