Chapter 53
FIFTY-THREE
CAL
They barely made it to the cabin.
Cal had her pressed against the front door before he’d even gotten it fully open, his mouth devouring hers while his hands found the zipper at the back of her dress. She fumbled with his buttons, laughing against his lips when they wouldn’t cooperate.
“Flannel,” she gasped. “You wear flannel now. There are so many buttons.”
He solved the problem by ripping the shirt open. Buttons scattered across the hardwood floor. Her laugh turned into a moan as he pressed her back against the door, mouth finding the sensitive spot beneath her ear.
“Cal—” Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Bed.”
He lifted her without breaking the kiss, carrying her through the cabin to the bedroom he’d prepared that morning. Clean sheets. Candles. A fire crackling in the hearth. He’d wanted it to be perfect for her.
He laid her on the bed and stepped back to look at her—really look. Her dress had slipped from one shoulder. Her hair was half-undone, wildflowers scattered on the pillow. Her eyes were dark with want, her lips swollen from his kisses.
His bear made a sound of pure contentment. Mate. Beautiful mate. Ours.
“You’re staring.” Her voice was husky.
“I’m memorizing.” He reached for the hem of her dress, drawing it slowly upward. “This moment. You. The way you look right now.”
The dress came away, revealing the body he’d learned so well in the weeks since they’d first made love. The curves he could map blindfolded. The scars—Magnus’s scars—that crossed her torso like accusations.
Cal leaned down and pressed his lips to the topmost scar, below her collarbone. She shivered.
“These,” he breathed the words against her skin, “tell a story of your courage. Of how you stood up for me, for us, for this town.” He kissed lower, following the raised line across her skin. “But tonight, I’m going to give you different marks. Ones you chose. Ones that mean you’re mine.”
“Yes.” The word came out breathless. “Yes, I want that. I want you.”