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Like an idiot, I pressed the leaf to my mouth and closed my eyes. Then I plopped face-first into the pillow, my arms and limbs pounding the mattress giddily as I squealed into the down.

Sufficiently bedded and wooed, I sprang off the bed and did a merry jig. Still wrapped in his shirt—he’d enjoyed making love to me while I wore it—I hopped into a skirt, forgoing underclothes.

My hair was a mess. I clawed through it fast, tossed on my blanket shawl, thumped my feet into my boots, and walked out the door. The boots slouched, their laces slapping the planks, untied and flopping around.

A squirrel jostled through the trees, its spastic tail flicking.

I followed a hunch, skipping down to the glade, where my breath stalled.

He spun his sword, leaves skittering around his feet. Corded muscles bunched along his arms. Sweat cut down his spine and the grooves beneath his shoulder blades, where ambitious red streaks marred the skin.

I bit my tongue with pride. Some hussy had mauled his back with her fingernails.

The sword whipped to a halt, steel flashing. He froze, his ears all but perking.

Aire twisted, his eyes catching mine so quickly that I felt winded. Or it could have been the magnitude of his stare. No smile. No frown.

But something without a top or bottom. Something without barriers.

The sword was on the ground before I’d registered that he dropped it. In seconds, he reached me. Seizing my face, his lips snatched mine.

I flung myself against him, the scent of sky and perspiration enfolding me. He groaned from the back of his throat, his tongue swiping into me, the cadence reminiscent of what his body had done to me hours ago. My fingers grappled at the damp nape of his neck.

Aire dragged his mouth away, grinning as I whined in protest. The contrast of his hot breath and the early chill turned me on like flint to tinder.

His fingers splayed over my lower back, on the verge of grasping my rump. He hissed in realization. “You’re nude under these garments.”

“How did you guess?” I teased.

“Do you mean to slay me? I shan’t win such a battle. Already, I’m contemplating hauling you back inside—this time, tomybed.”

“Who knew you’d be this insatiable?”

“The reason is evident. One glimpse of you drives me to madness. How pitiful that I’ve neglected to bid you good morning.”

“You’re doing a mighty thorough job of it now.”

A sheepish grin appeared. “My affections smother you.”

“No. This is just surreal. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.”

He beamed, ridiculously golden, his hands sneaking beneath the untucked shirt I wore. “It rouses me to see you in my wardrobe.”

“That spares me the trouble of stealing this shirt.”

Now a feral smile. “Did you enjoy me last night?”

The question dipped straight between my thighs. Aire glowed, seeing the answer without me having to say it aloud. He rested his forehead against mine. “And do I make you happy?”

I nodded, my thoughts and emotions tangled. “Do I ...do I makeyouhappy?”

“Aspen, don’t you know by now?” He nuzzled our noses together. “You have restored my heart.”

He kissed me in the glade, a full-bodied, full-hearted kiss.

We broke apart to a chorus of whistles, tweets, and claps. Glancing up, we caught Lyrik and Nicu standing on separate platforms, applauding us while Punk flapped overhead, chirping buoyantly.

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