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Right now.

Right up against the wall inside the log cabin we’re sharing, I believe it is.

Chapter Twenty-Three-Kian

I can’t remember anything—and I mean anything—in my entire fucked-up life that feels more right, more holy, than being balls-deep inside my mate.

Arliss.

She’s not just mine.

She’s it.

My beginning, my end, and everything in between.

There’s no world outside this moment. No fear, no questions, not even the goddamn Rut that’s been hanging over me like a loaded gun.

Just her.

Just us.

Her body wrapped around mine like silk spun from stars and sin, her scent so thick I can taste it when I breathe.

She clenches around me, hot and slick and fucking perfect, and I swear I black out for a second from the sheer force of it.

“Kian!” she cries, voice raw, sweet, wrecked, as I slam forward, my hips meeting the lush round of her ass with a delicious, dirty smack.

Fuck.

The way her tight, soaked cunt grips me. Like it knows I’m the only one who’ll ever be inside her again. It just undoes me.

“I got you, Mo Chroí. I got you, mate.”

My voice is low and guttural, barely human.

Because I’m not just human anymore.

Not with her like this.

With every thrust, I feel her soul pulling at mine, demanding more.

More love.

More pleasure.

More of me.

“Christ,” I groan, hips pistoning into her as I lean in, lips grazing her ear, “I should take a picture of this. Of you, bent over and dripping, my cock stretching that tight little pussy open just for me.”

She moans. A deep, needy sound, and she clenches around me again, tighter than before, like the words themselves fucked her as deeply as my body.

I watch the slow, hungry slide of my thick shaft disappearing into her, her slick shining on me like proof of her need.

Of her surrender.

Of her wanting me just as much as I want her.

“More,” she gasps, voice breathless, voice desperate.