Chapter 19
Sara was still here.
Ben had been awake for nearly an hour, lying perfectly still, afraid that if he moved she might dissolve like morning mist. But she hadn’t.
She was warm and solid and real, tucked against his chest with her chestnut hair spread across his pillow like silk, breathing in the slow, steady rhythm of deep sleep.
She chose me.
The thought kept circling through his mind, incredulous and wondering. She’d seen the nest—this ridiculous, instinct-driven monument to his obsession—and instead of running, she’d climbed into it with him. Had let him touch her, claim her, lose himself in her completely.
And now she was still here.
Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the blankets he’d arranged so carefully around her sleeping form.
At some point in the night, she’d burrowed deeper into the nest, pulling the sage-green throw up to her chin and nestling into the pillows like she’d always belonged there.
Because she does, the possessive voice in his head whispered. She belongs here. With me. Forever.
He drew a slow breath, trying to quiet the territorial instincts that had only grown stronger since last night.
He’d expected that claiming her, being with her, would ease the constant, gnawing hunger.
Instead, it had intensified. Every atom of his being was focused on the woman in his arms, cataloguing the scent of her skin, the soft rhythm of her heartbeat, the way her lips were slightly parted in sleep.
He wanted her again. Already. Still.
Insatiable, she’d teased him last night, laughing as he’d pulled her beneath him for the third time. He’d growled something about her not knowing what she’d signed up for, and she’d kissed him until neither of them could speak.
Now, watching her sleep, he felt that hunger stir again—low and warm in his belly, spreading heat through his limbs. His hand moved of its own accord, skimming down her bare arm, tracing the curve of her hip.
She stirred, making a soft, sleepy sound that did absolutely nothing for his self-control.
“Ben?” Her voice was husky with sleep, her green eyes blinking open slowly.
“Morning,” he said gruffly.
She stretched against him, a languid movement that pressed her lush curves more firmly against his body. The blankets shifted, revealing the creamy skin of her shoulder, and his grip on her hip tightened reflexively.
“You’re staring,” she murmured.
“Can’t help it.”
“Creepy.”
“Devoted,” he corrected, echoing their exchange from the night before.
Her lips curved into a sleepy smile. “Mmm. What time is it?”
“Early.” He didn’t actually know. He hadn’t looked at a clock. He didn’t care. Time felt irrelevant when she was here, when he could feel the warmth of her body seeping into his bones.
“You’ve been awake for a while.” It wasn’t a question. She could read him already, this woman. Could see through all his carefully constructed walls like they were made of glass.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Bad dreams?”
“Good reality.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling the vanilla-sugar scent of her hair. “I didn’t want to miss a moment of it.”
Her hand found his chest, her palm warm against his fur. “That’s either very sweet or very stalker-y. I haven’t decided which.”
“Let me know when you figure it out.”
She laughed—that bright, genuine sound he’d become addicted to—and tilted her face up to his. Her eyes were soft with sleep and something else. Something warm and open and terrifyingly vulnerable.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi.”
He kissed her. Gently at first, just a brush of lips, savoring the way she melted into him immediately. No hesitation. No resistance. Just Sara, soft and willing and his.
The kiss deepened.
Her fingers slid up his chest, tangling in the fur at his nape, and he groaned against her mouth.
She tasted like sleep and sweetness and everything he’d been denying himself for six long years.
His hand found the curve of her waist, pulling her closer, her body fitting against his like she was made for him.
“Ben.” His name was a sigh on her lips. “It’s barely dawn.”
“I know.”
“We were up half the night.”
“I remember.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Every detail.”
Sara shivered, her breath catching. “You’re insatiable.”
“You knew what you were getting into.” He found the place where her neck met her shoulder and scraped his teeth lightly across her skin, making her gasp. “Rabbit Other. Mating season. I warned you.”
“Did you though?” She was laughing again, even as her hips shifted restlessly against his. “I remember something about nesting and claiming, but no one mentioned the stamina—”
“I can stop if you want.” Probably.
“Don’t you dare.”
He smiled against her throat—a real smile, one he seemed to be giving freely now that she was here. His hand traced down her side, over the generous curve of her hip, along her thigh. She was so soft. So perfectly, beautifully soft, all warm skin and welcoming curves that made his head spin.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.
“You’re biased.”
“Doesn’t make it less true.”
His hand dipped between her thighs, groaning when he found her wet and ready for him.
Unable to resist, he rolled her beneath him, settling between her thighs with a sigh of pure satisfaction.
This. This was where he belonged. Above her, around her, inside her.
Every instinct screaming that she was home.
But even as the hunger surged through him, he forced himself to slow down.
Careful, he reminded himself. Easy.
Last night had been… intense. He’d tried to hold back, tried to temper the ferocity of his need, but she’d felt so good and wanted him so openly that he’d lost himself more than once.
He could still see the faint marks on her shoulders from his grip, and could still feel the echo of how desperately he’d needed to claim her.
What if he’d been too rough? What if he’d frightened her without realizing it? What if the wildness he’d kept locked away for six years was too much for her, too overwhelming, too—
“Hey.” Her hands framed his face, pulling him back to the present. Her eyes searched his. “Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere.”
“Liar.” She said it without heat, her thumbs stroking along his cheekbones. “You got that look. The one you get when you’re trying to control something.”
Of course she’d noticed. She noticed everything.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Ben.”
He sighed, dropping his forehead to rest against hers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You haven’t.”
“Last night—”
“Was incredible.” She kissed him softly. “I’m not fragile. You’re not going to break me.”
“You don’t understand what I am.” The words came out rough, reluctant. “What mating season does to me. My instincts are so strong, Sara. Stronger than I expected. And I’ve been holding them back for so long, I’m not sure I know how to let them out safely.”
She was quiet for a moment, studying his face with those perceptive green eyes. Then she did something that surprised him completely.
She laughed.
“What?” he demanded, affronted.
“You.” She was grinning up at him, her whole face alight with affection. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“I’m being serious—”
“I know you are. That’s what makes it ridiculous.
” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down until their noses touched.
“Ben Holloway. You spent six years controlling yourself. Six years of celibacy, of discipline, of proving you could master your instincts. You think I don’t trust you to be careful with me? ”
“It’s not about trust—”
“It’s absolutely about trust. And I trust you.” She kissed him again, slow and sweet. “I trust you to know your limits. I trust you to stop if either of us needs to. And I trust you to stop treating me like I’m made of glass, because I promise you, I’m sturdier than I look.”
He stared at her, his chest tight.
“You’re not afraid of me,” he said slowly, as if he were only now fully understanding it.
“Should I be?”
“Most people would be. A possessive rabbit Other in the middle of mating season, growling about claiming and forever—”
“You’ve also built me a nest, carried me home when I was drunk, and shoveled my driveway without being asked.” She smiled up at him. “I’ve seen who you are, Ben. The real you. And I’m not afraid.”
Something blossomed inside his chest. Something that had been locked away for six years, protected behind walls of discipline and control. He felt it open, felt the pieces rearrange themselves around this woman who looked at him like he was worth loving.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said roughly.
“Probably not.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “But you’re stuck with me now. You said so yourself—mating for life, remember?”
“Sara—”
“So stop worrying and kiss me already.”
He kissed her.
This time, he didn’t hold back quite so much.
Still careful—still aware of his strength, his claws, the wildness pacing behind his ribs—but less afraid.
She wanted him. All of him. The grumpy tavern owner and the possessive rabbit Other and the male who’d spent six years running from this exact moment.
She wanted it all.
His hands roamed her body with renewed purpose, tracing familiar paths and discovering new ones. The curve of her waist. The dip of her lower back. The way she gasped when he gripped her hips just so, lifting her over him and positioning her exactly where he wanted her.
“Ben—” His name was a plea on her lips.
“I’ve got you.” The same words from last night, already becoming a litany between them. “Always.”
He slid into her slowly, savoring every inch, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. But there was only pleasure there—her eyes fluttering closed, her lips parting, her whole body arching to welcome him.
Mine, the instinct roared.
Hers, his heart answered.
He moved with deliberate care, finding a rhythm that made her breath catch and her nails dig into his shoulders. Not as frantic as last night, but no less intense. Every thrust was purposeful, designed to draw out her pleasure, to watch her come apart above him again and again.
“You feel—god, Ben—”
“Tell me.” He needed to hear it. Needed to know he was giving her what she needed. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. Just you. Always—oh—”
Her words dissolved into a moan as he shifted angles, hitting a spot that made her whole body tremble. He filed that information away for later, already cataloging every detail of what made her gasp, what made her shiver, what made her say his name like it was the only word she knew.
The pleasure built between them like a rising tide—inevitable, unstoppable, pulling them both under. He felt his control fraying at the edges, felt the instincts surging up to take over, and for once he didn’t fight it.
Careful, he reminded himself. Careful with her.
But careful didn’t mean restrained. It meant present. Aware. Making sure every moment was about them, about this connection, about the choice they’d both made to be here together.
She came first, her body clenching around him, her cry muffled against his shoulder. Ben followed moments later, groaning her name into the curve of her neck, losing himself in the overwhelming sensation of being exactly where he belonged.
They lay tangled together afterward, breathing hard, sweat-damp skin cooling in the morning air. He pulled a blanket over them without thinking about it—nesting instinct, he realized dimly—and gathered her against his chest.
“Okay,” she murmured after a long moment. “You may have been right about the stamina thing.”
He laughed, the sound surprising him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much. Probably not since before the band fell apart. Maybe not ever.
“Told you.”
“Don’t be smug.” She poked his chest. “It’s unbecoming.”
“You love it.”
“I love you.” She said it easily, naturally, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “The smugness is a package deal, apparently.”
His arms tightened around her involuntarily. Love. She’d said it last night too, but hearing it again in the clear light of morning, without the haze of passion clouding everything—it felt different. More real. More permanent.
“I love you too,” he said, the words coming easily. “I should probably tell you that more often.”
“Probably.” She nestled closer, her nose brushing the fur on his chest. “But actions speak louder than words, and you did build me a nest. That’s a pretty solid declaration.”
He smiled against her hair, letting himself feel—really feel—the contentment washing through him. She was here. In his arms. In his nest. And she planned to stay.
Forever, the instincts purred contentedly.
For once, he didn’t try to silence them.