This man.
This beautiful, dangerous, mine in every way that counts Shifter.
Doesn’t he realize I already belong to him?
Not because of fate.
Not because of a bond.
But because when he looks at me like this. Like I’m his whole goddamn world. I choose him all over again.
“Kian.”
His name comes out like a prayer. Or maybe a spell.
I move slowly, deliberately, and swing my leg over him until I’m straddling his hips. My thighs press against his, and already I can feel him, hard and ready beneath the thin barrier of his sweatpants.
The couch lets out a soft groan under our weight, but I don’t give a damn about the furniture.
I care about this.
Us.
My hands slide up the firm plane of his chest, palms memorizing the ridges of muscle and the wild thump of his heart.
“I pick you,” I whisper. “Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. Hell, for all my tomorrows, I pick you.”
And then I kiss him.