But we can’t go back in time. What’s done is done.
Later that night, mere minutes after climbing into bed, a deep sleep brings me a dream.
It starts with a touch. Just a flutter along my collarbone, like the barest brush of fingertips. I can hardly see anything at all, but I know whose arms are cradling me close. I know that scent tickling my nostrils.
Rowan’s touch is gentle and insistent, gliding down the center of my chest and ghosting across my abdomen.
I am naked, but the dream version of me doesn’t care.
In fact, the dream version of me is relieved that there are no barriers between our bodies. My wolf side has come alive while the rest of me remains unconscious, and it is desperate for Rowan’s tender caresses.
His touch slips between my thighs without preamble. I am trembling, whimpering. My nails sharpen into claws that I dig into his shoulders, and that earns me a delicious growl that rumbles right down to the base of my spine.
I am molten. I am on fire. I have never wanted anything more in my life than to feel him inside me, to entwine myself with him and never let go.
Holding me close, still nothing more than warmth and shadows, Rowan moves his fingers in rhythmic circles against my swollen, damp center. I writhe, panting for breath. It’s so hot, I swear I might actually be burning.
But just when I’m on the edge of my climax, there’s an odd, faraway thunk that jolts through me like a vibration.
I startle, blinking open my eyes, jerking upright in bed. My gaze flits to the window across the dark room, where a hulking shadow is illuminated against the moonlight.
Rowan
It’s about half past midnight when I jolt awake in the driver’s seat of my truck. The glowing clock on the otherwise dark dashboard is the first thing I take note of, confirming that I’ve only been asleep for an hour or so.
After leaving Alina’s house, I shifted into wolf form and did a methodical sweep of the woods within a two-mile radius of the property. Then, under the cover of night, I shifted back and then drove into town, using scent to find my own way to the house where Noah is currently enjoying time with his friends.
I didn’t go inside. I didn’t even slow down when I passed by the house.
All I did was confirm that he was, in fact, safe and sound.
I returned to Alina’s shortly after that, but instead of sleeping in the driveway, I parked on the side of the road just beyond the end of it.
In spite of my screaming instincts, I wanted to give her a little bit of space after the heavy conversation that we had earlier.
At first, I’m not entirely sure what’s tugged me out of sleep. I narrow my eyes and scan the dark road ahead and behind me, then sweep my senses through the surrounding woods.
All is well. All is quiet.
And yet, there is a loose thread unraveling under my sternum. Something is yanking me toward the house.
Hopping out of the truck, I step into the cool night air and make my way up the driveway. Alina’s house is glowing a dull, grayish-white in the moonlight. It’s completely silent and dark within.
But when I get closer, her scent hits me with such devastating force that it rips the breath from my lungs. That heady lilac aroma is more potent, the subtle hint of spice so much sharper than usual. The scent is enticing and rich, thickened with a telltale sweetness.
Alina is sleeping, if the faint sound of her slow heartbeat and steady breathing is any confirmation.
But she is clearly having a very good dream.
I nearly fall to my knees when I realize what’s happening.
And then I’m moving, my exhausted body and even more drowsy mind allowing the wolf within to take over. Instincts have me stalking across the dewy grass, then halting at the edge of her porch steps.
I look up, locating her bedroom easily on the second floor. There’s a window above the sloped porch roof that will give me much more efficient access than storming through the locked front door.
It’s no effort at all to jump up and grip the edge of the roof, then swing myself onto the shingles, which are thankfully rough enough that my boots don’t slip.
I maneuver up the gentle slope, then crouch in front of the window, peering inside.
My shifter sight kicks in, allowing me to see the outline of Alina’s body sprawled across the mattress on the other side of the room. She’s a restless sleeper, having kicked the duvet and sheets halfway off the bed. Her perfect skin is covered in a scrap of silk that barely passes for a nightgown, and suddenly the front of my jeans are uncomfortably tight.
And her scent…
I breathe in deeply, going lightheaded with desire at the same time that I feel a little ridiculous for being such an unashamed voyeur. I should snap out of it and walk away, but I can’t seem to drag my gaze away.
She thrashes in her sleep, twisting onto her stomach. The curve of her pale thigh catches the moonlight, and the hem of her nightgown is so dangerously close to exposing her bare bottom. I stumble slightly, clutching the edge of the window to balance myself, but it causes my knuckles to knock against the glass.
I freeze, holding my breath.
This is the part where I’m supposed to remember that I’m a human before I’m a wolf. I’m an adult man living in a society where peeping through someone’s window is definitely frowned upon, even if the scent of her arousal beckoned me like a siren song.
Before I can recalibrate my mind and recall how normal people are supposed to act, Alina lets out a sharp gasp and bolts upright in bed.
As if she knew that I was here, even while unconscious, her gaze locks with mine across the dark expanse of her bedroom.
Really, she should probably be screaming. Or at least hollering expletives. Reaching for her phone to call the cops. Preparing to throw her bedside lamp at my head.
But there is a bond between us that takes only a few seconds to inform her that it’s me, not an intruder.
I watch through the glass as Alina hurls herself out of bed and stumbles toward the window. In one smooth motion, she hauls it open.
Up close, I can see how pink her cheeks are, can sense how feverish her skin is. Not to mention, with her suddenly so close, it’s like I’m drowning in her scent.
“Rowan?” Her voice is hoarse.
She blinks blearily at me, but she doesn’t look horrified that I’m kneeling on the roof of her porch right outside her window in the middle of the night. She doesn’t even look annoyed.
“You…” I clear my throat, trying to remember how to form completely sentences. “Your scent.”
Alina bites her lip, squeezes her thighs together. I bite back a moan.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.