That was fine. He could keep his secret, for I had no choice but to keep all of my own.

He squeezed my ass. I giggled into his chest and allowed my hand to drift down the broad expanse of his back.

He made a sound close to a purr that stirred the hair atop my head, and clutched me closer. “I really like holding you.” Such simple words. Too simple to warrant the wildfire they caused inside my heart, the violent rush within my veins, when he murmured, “And how you feel against me.”

I closed my eyes, wishing I could sink beneath his skin and start anew. A different life. A different male. A different collection of memories.

A different, wide-open future.

Unable to respond, I feathered my fingers over his back. They dipped into ridges between muscle, the indent of his spine, and over a thick scar.

I shifted my thigh, allowing him to better scent what I wanted—what I needed.

I needed what he was so unknowingly skilled at gifting me. The ability to forget.

The tempo of his heart increased under my cheek. He lifted my leg high enough that when he reached between us, he could touch me. He could feel me. He could feel exactly what he did to me. “Fuck, Aster.” Languidly, he dragged his finger through me. “Are you not sore?”

I shivered at the way sleep lingered and thickened his tone. The way it made each word roll into another, and huskier. “Not sore enough.”

A chesty growl, and then that finger plunged inside me. “Soaked. Have I kept you wanting?” Moving slow, deliriously slow, he curled and twisted, stroked me with teasing precision before retreating to do so all over again.

“Waiting,” I managed after a shaken breath.

A smile wrapped around his words. “My sincerest apologies.”

“I’ll bet you never apologize for anything, wolf.”

He chuckled, low and deep. “Not wrong about that. Roll over.”

But I liked being pressed so firmly against him, where everything was dark and warm and delicious and safe. An illusion. A veil shielding what awaited me beyond.

My eyes flashed open when his touch left my core. He clasped my face, some of my hair woven through his fingers, and tilted it until his nose could skim my cheek. “Comfortable, wildflower?”

Sparks replaced the beat of my heart. Tearing myself away just long enough to roll over earned me another chuckle.

My gaze drifted to the tattered plaid armchair by the window, then to the books neatly piled on the nightstand next to me. Pieces of this male were few, but there were enough to make me want to fit them together.

Vacant thoughts I shouldn’t have had were erased when he lifted my leg and his chest molded to my back. A rumbled, “Stars, I’ve been missing this,” washed over my shoulder as he eased his length inside my body.