Page 18

18

COLT

W e keep walking, the winding paths threading us through the observatory grounds, each telescope casting long shadows. Magnolia stays close—closer than she was before. She loops her arm through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, her touch a whisper against my skin, yet it sears through me like wildfire.

Every time her fingers shift against my arm, it sends a jolt of awareness through me. Her skin is warm against mine, and the slight pressure of her touch feels like a promise—soft, tentative, but there. It’s impossible to ignore, impossible not to want more.

She glances up at me every so often, her eyes bright with curiosity, her voice soft and lilting as she chats about the stars and the history of the observatory. But it’s not her words that have my attention. It’s the way her fingers curl just slightly as she adjusts her grip on my arm, the way she leans into me when the gravel shifts under her boots, her laugh low and breathy when she stumbles and I steady her.

It’s the way her scent lingers in the cool night air, sweet and warm, like honey and sunlight and something distinctly Magnolia. It wraps around me, pulling me in, drawing me closer with every step. My wolf stirs, pacing, its growl low and possessive as it thrums through my chest. It’s impossible to keep it quiet, not with her so close, her warmth sinking into my skin, her presence unraveling me thread by thread.

She doesn’t notice, of course. Or maybe she does. Maybe she knows exactly what she’s doing—the way her arm tightens just slightly around mine, the way her body brushes against mine, leaving sparks in its wake, just enough to drive me out of my fucking mind.

“Look at this one!” she says suddenly, her voice bright with excitement as she tugs me toward a telescope standing off to the side of the main path. Its metal body is rusted and weathered, its base half-covered in ivy, but it still stands tall, a sentinel against the night sky.

Magnolia lets go of my arm and steps closer, her fingers trailing along the telescope’s cool metal. The way she touches it—with reverence, like it’s something sacred—makes my chest tighten. She leans over the telescope, peering through the lens, and I catch the way her curls tumble over her shoulder, the way her shirt rides up just slightly as she stretches.

I clench my fists at my sides, my jaw tightening as heat pools low in my stomach. Every inch of her is a fucking distraction. It’s like she was designed to pull me apart—bit by bit, touch by touch. She’s not doing it on purpose, I tell myself. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me.

But then she glances back at me, her lips parted, her gaze locking on mine. And in that moment, I know she knows.

“It’s incredible,” she breathes, her voice soft and awed. “The stars look so close, like you could reach out and touch them.”

“Yeah,” I rasp, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. But I’m not looking at the stars. I’m looking at her—the way the moonlight kisses her skin, the way her silhouette curves against the night, the way her lips catch the light, soft and inviting, like they’re begging me to lean in and?—

I take a step back, forcing myself to shove my hands into my pockets, to glance away before I do something stupid. “We should keep moving,” I say, my voice strained. “See what else is out here.”

She tilts her head, her smile soft, teasing. “You’re right,” she says lightly. “Lead the way.”

She loops her arm through mine again, her touch grounding and electrifying all at once. Every step, every brush of her fingers, every laugh that spills from her lips—it all chips away at the fragile control I’m clinging to.

Because it’s not just her touch or her scent or the way she looks at me like I’m someone worth paying attention to. It’s the way she makes everything else fade away. The world could burn around us, and I wouldn’t care as long as she stayed close.

And that’s dangerous. Because the closer she gets, the harder it is to ignore the truth: I want her. Not just in passing, not just in the fleeting way I’ve wanted other things. I want her in a way that feels like it could undo me, like it could change everything.

Every surface we pass feels like a temptation. The curved railing of the platform, the sturdy base of the telescope, even the gravel beneath our feet—they all seem like places I could take her, places I could press her against and make her mine. My hands twitch at my sides, aching to grab her, to pull her close, to feel the softness of her skin under my palms.

It would be so easy. So simple.

Fuck, she would feel so good.

She leans into me as we walk, her arm slipping a little tighter around mine, her body brushing against me like she’s testing the waters, seeing how far she can push before I snap. And maybe she doesn’t realize what she’s doing. Maybe she does. Either way, it’s driving me insane.

“Look at this,” she murmurs, stopping at another telescope. She lets go of my arm, her fingers grazing my wrist as she steps forward, her curls catching the faint glow of the moonlight. She bends to peer through the lens, her body curving in a way that makes my mouth go dry.

I force myself to focus on something—anything—else. But the only thing I can think about is how close she is, how easy it would be to step behind her, to press her against the cold metal, to let my hands roam until she’s trembling beneath me.

It would change everything. It would ruin everything.

But fuck, I don’t think I care.

I shake myself out of the haze, forcing my feet to move as I step closer. She’s still bent over the telescope, her curves on full display, and it takes everything I have not to let my gaze linger too long. I lean in beside her, catching a faint whiff of her hair—clementines and honey—and I swear it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelled. I don’t give a fuck about the stars, I just want to bury my face in her hair and inhale her until the day I die.

“What am I looking at?” I ask, my voice rough.

Magnolia shifts to make room for me, her shoulder brushing mine. “That star there,” she says, pointing to the lens. “The one that’s flickering. Isn’t it amazing?”

I nod, barely seeing the star. All I can focus on is the way her lips curve into a smile, the way her breath fans across my neck when she leans closer to explain. I want to kiss her. I want to ruin her.

And I want to keep her safe from everything, even myself.

“Yeah,” I manage, stepping back before I lose control. “It’s amazing.”

Her eyes flick to me, curious. Her head tilts, her lips parting like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she links her arm with mine again, her touch as light as a whisper. It should ease the tightness in my chest, but it doesn’t. If anything, it only makes it worse.

She leans into me as we move on to the next telescope, her body brushing against mine with every step. Each touch, each shift of her hand against my arm, sends a jolt of heat spiraling through me, winding tighter and tighter in my gut. It’s unbearable—the way she feels, the way she smells, the way she looks up at me like I’m more than the damaged wreck I know I am.

And yet, it’s addictive. Every laugh that spills from her lips, every glance she throws my way—it’s pulling me in, unraveling me piece by piece. I try to focus on the telescopes, on the stars, on anything other than the way her hips sway as she moves, the way her curls catch the moonlight like they were made to be tangled in my hands.

But it’s useless. My wolf is pacing, restless, growling low in my chest with every soft touch and lingering glance. It’s urging me to close the gap, to pull her against me, to press her to the nearest surface and mark her as mine.

“Look at this one,” she says, tugging me toward another telescope. Her voice is soft, breathy, like she’s caught up in the wonder of it all. But I can’t see the telescope. I can only see her—her flushed cheeks, her wide, curious eyes, the way her lips curve as she smiles.

She lets go of my arm to lean over the telescope, her fingers brushing the rusted metal as she peers through the lens. The sight of her bent over like that, her hair spilling over her shoulder, her body curving so perfectly—it’s enough to make me forget how to breathe.

My fists clench at my sides, my jaw tightening as I force myself to look away. But the image is already burned into my mind, and it’s all I can do to keep my hands from reaching for her, to keep from giving in to the urge that’s been building since the moment she looped her arm through mine.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, her voice soft with awe. She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling. “Come look.”

I shake my head. “You go ahead,” I say, my voice rough. “I’ll just—keep watch.”

She frowns, stepping back from the telescope, her brows knitting together. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I snap. Her eyes widen, and guilt twists in my gut. “Sorry,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

She hesitates, her gaze searching mine. I hold my breath, half hoping she’ll press, half praying she won’t. But then she nods, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at her lips as she links her arm with mine again. Her touch feels warmer now, heavier somehow, each soft brush of her fingers sending little jolts of aching desire through me.

We walk in silence, the night wrapping around us, her warmth a constant, quiet invitation. Every time she leans into me, I feel my resolve cracking, splintering under the weight of everything I want and can’t have. The softness of her laugh, the way her scent curls through the cool air, the delicate pressure of her hand against my arm—it’s all pulling me under, dragging me deeper into a need I can’t ignore.

By the time we make it back to the main building, my control is hanging by a thread, frayed and worn from her touches, her glances, her presence. Each step tightens the coil in my chest, and by the time we cross the threshold, I’m a hair away from snapping. My wolf is restless, prowling, clawing at me to take her, to claim her.

Her touch lingers on my arm as we step inside, and it feels like fire, like temptation, like sweetness. She slows as we approach the little nest she made earlier, her eyes flicking to it and then back to me. My imagination takes the opening and runs wild: her beneath me, her hair spilling across those blankets, her lips parted and begging for?—

I can’t do this. Not here. Not like this.

“I’ll sleep outside,” I say quickly, the words rough and unsteady, tumbling out before I can lose the last shred of control I’m clinging to. “There’s enough room out there for me to?—”

“Don’t,” she interrupts, her voice soft but firm, the single word cutting through my scattered thoughts.

I freeze, every nerve in my body on high alert as I turn to look at her. Her eyes are wide, unguarded, and when they meet mine, it feels like something cracks open between us, raw and aching and impossible to ignore.

“Stay,” she says, her fingers brushing my arm again. Her touch is careful, hesitant, but there’s no mistaking the intent behind it. “Please.”

It’s not fair. The way she looks at me, the way she says my name—it’s like she knows exactly what she’s doing, like she knows she’s unraveling me and she’s okay with it. She doesn’t understand what she’s asking, what it’s costing me to keep my hands off her.

I take a step back, my heart pounding in my chest like a drumbeat. “Magnolia?—”

“Please,” she whispers, and it hits me like a punch to the gut.

My wolf growls low in my chest, the sound vibrating through me, urging me to close the gap between us. To give her what she’s asking for, to give her everything she wants and more.

But this—her—this would change everything. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

I don’t know if I can survive it.

She reaches out and tentatively touches my arm, sliding it to grasp my bicep…coming closer. I don’t move, I don’t dare move. I glance down at her hand, at the way her grip tightens just slightly, as though she’s holding onto her resolve. When I meet her gaze again, her eyes are wide and bright, and I can see it all there—her nervousness, her hope, and the decision she’s already made.

“We both feel it, right?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “This…whatever it is between us. And I want it. I want you.” She swallows hard, her fingers trembling where they touch me. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t.”

Her words are so quiet, so vulnerable, that they nearly shatter me. My chest tightens, my wolf snarling low and possessive in my mind. I can feel her nervousness, the way she’s trying to hold onto her courage even as her voice shakes. She’s not some kind of seductress, she never will be; this is the result of a decision she made way before we even left on this trip. She wants me.

And that’s a weight I don’t know if I can bear.

“You are way too good a girl for me,” I rasp, every second a battle to keep myself from pulling her into me. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not that fragile,” she says, her voice firm despite the slight quiver. “And I’m not perfect, Colt. You think I am, but I’m not.”

She takes another step closer, her hand sliding up my arm, her touch firmer now, bolder. Her face tilts up toward mine, and I can see the way her chest rises and falls with every shaky breath, how her lips part as she gathers her courage.

“I’ve made my choice,” she says quietly, her voice trembling but full of conviction. “And I’m choosing you.”

My restraint shatters. My hands twitch at my sides, my chest tightening as her words sink in. She doesn’t understand what she’s asking for, what this would mean—for both of us. But the look in her eyes, the way she’s standing there, so nervous but so brave, undoes me completely.

“Magnolia…” I growl, her name slipping from my lips like a warning.

She doesn’t back down. Her gaze holds mine, steady and unflinching, even as her breath catches in her throat. “I want this, Colt,” she whispers. “I want you.”

I move without thinking. My hand reaches for her arm, sliding up to her shoulder, then to the curve of her neck, where her pulse flutters beneath my fingers. I can feel the tension in her body, the way she’s trembling slightly—but she doesn’t pull away. She leans into me, her eyes never leaving mine, and the trust I see there nearly breaks me.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I rasp, my voice low and rough, barely holding onto the last shreds of my restraint. “What I want to do to you…”

Her breath hitches, her lips parting slightly. “Then do it,” she whispers, her voice shaking but sure. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Her words hit me like a lightning strike, burning away the last of my resistance. My hand tangles in her hair, pulling her closer as I lean down, my breath mingling with hers. She gasps, and the sound drives me over the edge.

“Damn it, Magnolia,” I mutter, my voice rough and low, a curse and a prayer all at once. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

Her lips tremble into a small, shaky smile. “Then let me,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

And just like that, I’m gone.

I crash into her, my lips finding hers in a kiss that’s raw, consuming, and unrelenting. It’s not gentle—it’s a clash of heat and need, a release of everything I’ve been holding back for far too long. Her lips are soft but urgent, and the way she moves against me sends a shockwave of sensation through my entire body. It’s like a dam breaking, the flood of desire impossible to stop.

Her hands grip my shirt, bunching the fabric in her fists as she pulls me closer, like she’s afraid I might pull away. But I’m not going anywhere—not now, not ever. I deepen the kiss, sliding my hand to the small of her back, pressing her against me, and the sound that escapes her—a soft, breathy moan—reverberates through me like a spark catching fire.

She’s everything—soft and bold, nervous and certain—and I’m completely undone. My restraint is gone, replaced by a need so overwhelming that I know there’s no going back. My hand tangles in her curls, angling her head so I can kiss her deeper, my teeth grazing her bottom lip just enough to make her gasp. Her fingers slide up to my shoulders, gripping me like I’m the only solid thing in her world.

“Magnolia,” I growl against her lips, her name a raw, unsteady whisper. I don’t even know what I’m saying, only that I need her to know what this is doing to me—what she’s doing to me. She answers by arching into me, her body pressing against mine in a way that obliterates any remaining thought of holding back.

Her scent surrounds me—sweet and warm, like honey and wildflowers—and it mixes with the heat radiating off her skin, making my senses swim. Every inch of me feels like it’s on fire, like she’s ignited something in me that I didn’t even know was there.

My hand slides lower, skimming over the curve of her waist, and her breath catches. She tilts her head back slightly, giving me access to the delicate line of her jaw, and I take it, trailing kisses down her neck, savoring the way her pulse races under my lips.

“Colt,” she whispers, her voice trembling but sure, and the sound of my name on her lips destroys me. I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, her wide, dark eyes searching mine.

She’s made her choice, and it’s me.

“I don’t think I can stop,” I admit, my voice rough and low, my hands still holding her like she might vanish if I let go.

“Then don’t,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, but it hits me like a shout. Her hands slide to the back of my neck, pulling me back to her, and this time, there’s no hesitation. There’s only heat, only us, and the undeniable pull that’s been building between us from the moment we met.

Her lips are soft, her kiss hungry, and I lose myself in her completely. The world outside the observatory fades away, leaving only the sound of her breath, the feel of her body against mine, and the relentless beat of my heart pounding in my ears. She’s all I can think about, all I can feel, and for the first time in a long time, I stop fighting what I want. What we both want.

Because this isn’t just a kiss. It’s a promise. A declaration. A beginning. And I know—no matter what comes next—I’ll never be able to let her go.