“You know you’re the only one who gets to… do all this, right?” I gesture vaguely between us. “The kissing. The lap-sitting. The ‘almost falling apart against a log’ thing.”
Heat sparks under his fur; I can feel it.
“You’re not helping my jealousy,” he mutters.
Good. He deserves to be just a little off-balance after making my heart race with that protective roar.
“Seriously,” I say, sobering. “Sam is… nice. A little flirty. A little like a golden retriever with a badge. But he’s not… you. He’s noise. You’re signal.”
His brow furrows. “That is the most biologist compliment I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m a man of my craft,” I say.
I reach up, sliding my hands up his chest, into the thick fur over his shoulders. It’s like leaning against a moving hillside—solid, warm, grounding.
“Besides,” I add, softer, “I ran straight to you, didn’t I?”
His jaw flexes. “You did,” he says.
“Because you’re the one I wanted to see,” I say. “Because that ridiculous roar made my whole chest flip, and I had to come find you before my brain talked me out of it.”
The careful restraint in his expression simply... disappears.
Without warning, I launch myself up.
I’ve given him a little warning in the past. A “catch me,” a countdown. This time my body moves faster than my mouth. I jump, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist in one fluid, extremely trusting motion.
He might grumble about humans being fragile, but his reflexes don’t get the memo. His arms snap around me, one hand bracing under my thighs, the other at my back, holding me securely against him.
I laugh, breathless, delighted. “See?” I say. “Perfect.”
He makes a sound halfway between a growl and a groan. “You’re going to stop my heart,” he says.
“Pretty sure you started it again,” I counter. I pepper quick kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the side of his face. The fur tickles my lips; his skin is hot underneath.
He huffs. “What are you doing?”
“Marking my territory,” I say.
It’s a joke. Mostly. Kind of.
His chest rumbles. “That’s not how that works.”
“Then consider it a down payment,” I say.
I find his mouth and kiss him properly.
The forest falls away for a moment. There’s just us, suspended in that strange, wild space where the rules of my old life don’t quite apply and the new ones are still being written.
When we finally break apart, he’s breathing hard, his grip on me firm but gentle. “You really are okay with this?” he asks quietly. “All of it. The leaving, the lying to the rangers, the… me?”
“Yes,” I say. “And yes. Andespeciallyyes.”
He searches my face, as if expecting to see some hidden flinch, some quiet regret. I let him look. Whatever he finds seems to ease the last of his uncertainty. His arms loosen just enough that I can shift, unhooking my legs and sliding down until my boots hit the ground again. I keep one hand fisted in the fur at his chest, though, because letting go feels wrong.
“So,” I say, forcing my brain back toward logistics for a moment, “I told Gladys I’m leaving in about a week and a half.Maybe two. I gave her a very plausible scientific justification. She bought it. Mostly.”
“Good,” Boone says.