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The last time Stephan had touched me like that was ten years ago. I remembered the soft blanket spread out on the banks of the big, deep blue lake. It’d been late evening, and we’d been tucked into a wooded clearing, close to the alpha house, but far from the houses around town. It was our secret, secluded place. It was where we went to get away from the rest of the world.

I sighed as I ran my palm under my shirt and over my bare belly. My body was warm all over and tingly with sensation.

I remembered the sunset over the lake, the warm air on my skin, the distant sound of the crickets. Stephen had pulled his body close to mine and slowly divested me of my clothes, piece by piece, like I was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. His callused hands had slid over my hips, my thighs, the curve of my waist.

Just the memory of his gentle touch was enough to make me wet. My lips parted as I slid my hand over the cotton waistband of my panties, rubbing against my sensitive pussy. The pressure made me inhale sharply as pleasure rolled up my spine.

When was the last time I had felt this good from a simple touch? I couldn’t remember. At home, when I pleasured myself, it was… perfunctory. This felt different. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that before now, I had intentionally avoided memories and fantasies of Stephen. It had hurt too much.

But being close to him had made my desire too much to ignore.

I remembered Stephen rolling us over on the blanket, his body covering mine. His bare chest had been so broad, so strong—and a lot less tattooed than it was now. His hand had grasped my thigh, hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises, and the sensation of being possessed like that had made my whole body burn hot.

I slid my hand into my panties. I was so wet that the slightest touch would set me off.

Stephan had taken me like that, right by the lake. I remembered the hot press of his desire—God, his cock was the perfect size, the perfect thickness to press into every good place inside of me. His lips had captured mine, and he’d kissed me hard and deep as he slid into me.

Biting back a groan, I slid my fingers over the sensitive, wet folds. I rubbed my sensitive clit and built a slow, rhythmic pressure, matching the memory of Stephan’s deep, slow pace. That always drove me crazy. He’d fuck me slow and deep, so I felt the drag of every inch, making pleasure roll through me in intense, slow waves.

The pressure of his body against mine, his hands on my skin, the heat of his lips against my mouth, my jaw, the sensitive skin of my neck. Every memory sent another jolt of desire straight to my clit. Stephan had been attuned to every breath I took, every shift of my muscles, every tiny sound. He knew my body, knew how to make me feel good.

Pleasure rolled through me. I gasped as I approached my release. My toes curled in the sheets, and my hips arched up, reaching for a man who wasn’t there. I rubbed myself with more pressure, and my whole body felt warm, tight, intense, clouding out my thoughts, my worries. It felt so good, and all I thought of was Stephan, his kiss, his smell, his perfect, perfect cock.

My orgasm crested, then I gasped loud—maybe too loud—and arched off the bed. I closed my eyes so tight that I saw fireworks behind my eyelids as I came harder than I had in years.

Smiling lazily, I slumped back onto the mattress. I felt sated, for once, sated and comfortable andsafe—eased into this loose and loopy state by the mere memory of Stephan’s hands on me. Luckily, before I could work myself into a tizzy about that, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I woke with a start and scrambled out of bed to the bathroom. My hair was a tousled mess, and sweat had dried on my forehead. Embarrassment surged through me. Stephan was a shifter. What if he could smell it on me? What if he’dheard?I never could figure out the limits of his fancy, extra-sharp senses. The thought that I had done that, right down the hall from him, made my entire face turn pink.

I splashed cold water on my face and took a few deep breaths. I heard the sounds of someone in the kitchen downstairs, but none of Dylan’s rambling. Still asleep, then. I didn’t know if that would make this easier or so much more difficult.

I tugged on a hoodie and a clean pair of leggings, then stepped out of the bedroom. Immediately, my mouth watered at the scent of sizzling sausage.

“Morning,” Stephan said as I entered the kitchen. “Sleep all right?”

My face felt hot again. Shit,hadhe heard me? “Um, yeah. Just fine.”

“Hungry?”

I nodded. Did he really have to be shirtless? Again? This was a new habit, and one I was going to have some serious trouble adjusting to.

“Fix a plate,” Stephan said with a smile. “There’s plenty. You’ll want to get what you want before Dylan wakes up and devours the rest, anyway.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

I still felt antsy, and Stephan tracked my movements with those keen hazel eyes. That didn’t make me any more relaxed, honestly. My head was still buzzing with my memories, which had become my fantasies, which had become my dreams. I was hot all over. I wanted him to push me against the counter and press his strong thigh between my legs and let me grind down on it.No!I shook that thought from my head. I wanted anicebreakfast, astrongcup of coffee, and aregular work day.

I looked up. Stephan was still watching me as he poked the sausages in the pan with the spatula. And he was smirking, like he knew a secret.Mysecret.

Oh, shit.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said quickly. I hurried over to the cabinet where the mugs were and pulled the door open. The mugs were on the highest shelf, which I could reach when on my tip-toes.

“Let me grab that.” Stephan’s warm, broad chest pressed to my back as he reached up over me.

My heart pounded, and my world narrowed to his body against mine, his strong arm reaching up, the scent of him surrounding me. If I turned around, I could hook my arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. It felt safe. It felt like ten years ago. It felt completely, thrillinglydangerous.