Instead, he rolled behind her, spooning against her back and draping an arm around her waist. The contact made his wolf sit up and take notice, but the chain around his neck grew hot—reminding him to be careful. “It’s what wolves do,” he said.
“Do you understand them?” she whispered, rigid in his hold.
“Sort of,” his voice was gruff. “Their intent.”
She shivered against him, still uneasy.
“It’s okay, Jessa. You’re safe.” But was she? His hand pressed against her stomach, offering—and taking—comfort in the contact. His palm warmed, the energy between them alive. She relaxed, making it that much easier to mold himself around her. The slight increase of her pulse made him pause. He swallowed. When he spoke, his words were a whisper. “Touching you comforts me.”
“Yes,” she murmured, the feel of her hand on his arm instantly pulling him in. The need to claim her was overwhelming. All it took was that touch, light and soft…almost timid. What would it feel like to have her touch him with confidence? Ownership? He wanted that, so much. A strange noise, part growl, tore from his throat.
She lifted her hand. “I’m sorry.”
He rolled onto his back, grasping for control. He was the one that should be sorry, not her. “Don’t be,” he ground out.
Her words were low, harsh and ragged. “I feel like your wolf. Like you’re fighting…me. Something you don’t want, but can’t let go of.” She slid to the edge of the bed.
She was right—he couldn’t let go of her. He lay there, reining in the need to show her what she did to him. He gripped the silver medallion. How could she understand what she was to him? If he gave in, she’d never be free. Protecting her from himself was the right thing to do.
His wolf wanted her to know, to understand. To feel what she did to them and who she was.
Protecting her meant keeping her warm, not letting her shiver on the side of the damn bed. He slid to the bedside, sitting as close as possible without touching her. The words rose in his chest, the wolf demanded he speak. “Jessa—” He broke off, his lungs emptying. He looked at her. “You know what I’m capable of. What do you want from me?”
Her green eyes shone, raw with hunger—hunger his wolf wholeheartedly approved of. She didn’t understand. She needed to understand.
“Do you remember what I said in the truck?” he asked.
She blinked, her lips parting.
“A wolf has one mate. One.” And his wolf was waiting, ready. He swallowed, standing to pace before the fire. Say it. You’re mine. The wolf would rather he showed her. But throwing her down on the bed and giving her what she thought she wanted didn’t seem like the best idea.
“And…and sex isn’t the same thing. I know.” She kept talking, her voice wavering—uncertain. “But I don’t understand what’s happening between us,” she added, her words thick and strained. “I’ve never been so…drawn to a person. If this isn’t what you want, why is it…this way between us?”
He stared at her, the roar of blood in his veins and the drum of his heart making it hard to focus. Drawn to him? Isn’t that what he wanted?
“You act like there’s nothing between us, but there is. We’re connected.” Her cheeks flushed. “You want me close, so close I can feel you want me, but I can’t have you.” She stared at him. “What about what I want?”
She wanted him. But she didn’t understand what that meant. What if she wanted to leave him? What the hell would he do then? She was his mate. If the bond was sealed, he couldn’t let her go.
“Or is it the wolf that wants me, but not you?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand any of this.” She was angry. “Tell me. Explain it so I can understand.” He heard her uncertainty—her frustration.
Like him.
And his control was slipping. The wolf was winning. For once, Finn wanted him to win. He wanted to claim her. “A connection?” he repeated, crossing the room in two long steps. He gripped the blanket wrapped around her and tugged her to her feet. “I wish it were that simple.”
Her eyes widened as she whispered, “Finn—”
His voice was gruff and hard. “This isn’t about sex, Jessa.” His tilted her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye. He hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but dammit, he couldn’t stand hearing the doubt in her voice. He never wanted to hear it again. She stared at him, stunned. “This is about you, choosing me. No going back. No leaving. My mate. You are mine. Always.”
“You—”
“I won’t tie you to me. To this life. I can’t,” he continued. “So, yes. I fight.”
“Stop fighting,” she whispered.
He froze, his mind reeling, his fingers twisting in the blanket he’d pinned her in. She didn’t mean it. She couldn’t. He shook his head, denying the urge to pull her against him, to bind her to him. The wolf circled, howling in frustration, forcing Finn to hear her—to accept it.
She stepped closer, her hand covering the medallion that rested on his bare ches