And even as she says it there is a growing part of me that knows it’s becoming dangerous, that the lines of our agreement are blurring astronomically—at least for me. It’s for that reason alone that I should send her to my cousin’s cabin outside of town, that I should put as much distance as I can between us so I don’t risk tumbling headfirst into the disaster that will surely result from me sharing such an intimate experience with this woman who is invading my thoughts more and more each day.
But I don’t do any of those things, because the idea of touching her right now feels more important than water. Than air, even.
“Yes. We did.”
“And you know a place?”
I nod. “My cousin owns a small ski lodge in Pleasant Hill. Just under a two-hour drive, give or take,” I tell her again. “I’m sure he would be willing to let us . . . borrow it. For a few days.”
My body is almost screaming at the idea of being alone with Mackenzie for a string of days when she smells as incredible as she does right now. All the things I’m thinking of doing to her. She might run away screaming if she could read my thoughts.
“What about work?”
I blink. I hadn’t thought of this yet. I frown into my lap, considering all the options before the most obvious one hits me. “I have heat leave.”
“You do?”
I look up to meet her eyes. “We do,” I correct. “You are my mate, after all.”
“Mate,” she echoes, and the heated way she looks at me . . . I wish I could capture it somehow. So that I could take it out and look at it whenever I want. “As far as they know.”
Reality is a fickle bitch, and the reminder of the falsity of everything between us holds an odd sting. I don’t have the mental capacity to explore why right now, too distracted by her soft blush and her softer mouth. I can’t really consider anything outside of getting Mackenzie into a bed where I can taste and touch her to my heart’s content for the foreseeable future.
“Right,” I manage.
She bites her lip again, and I have to send down a silent plea that my cock calm down, knowing she needs me to be stronger than that right now. That I will have arrangements to make shortly.
“Okay,” she says easily.
“Okay?” I might be an idiot for questioning her, but I have to be certain. “And you’re sure you want me to . . . help?”
She considers this for a moment with her eyes still studying my face, finally rustling away from her little nest of covers and crawling slowly across the bed to bring herself nearer to me. She doesn’t touch me, keeping her hands pressed firmly to the mattress—but I can feel her warm breath against my mouth moments before she brushes her lips over mine, and it takes everything I have not to take her right here, even knowing that we would most likely destroy my house when her need to shift sets in.
Right now it almost feels like that possibility could be worth it.
“I’m sure,” she murmurs. “Make the call.” Another kiss that is slight but threatens to make me crazy just the same. “Hurry, Noah.”
I don’t think I’ve ever moved faster.
15
Mackenzie
The drive to Noah’s cousin’s place borders on torture. With every mile the fever in my skin seems to worsen, a burn building deep down inside that threatens to consume me. There are moments during the two-hour trip where I notice Noah’s fingers gripping the steering wheel too tightly, others where his hand reaches out to touch me almost unconsciously, only for him to jerk it away at the last second. It’s like he’s afraid if he touches me, he won’t stop. There is a part of me that is delighted by the idea of this, but there is another that isn’t so sure how to feel about it.
It’s true that it was my idea for Noah to come with me, to help me through this strange heat that neither of us saw coming—but in the brief moments of clarity （however few）， I can’t help but be wary of it all. Because the way I’ve been feeling since Noah found me back at the hospital, the way every part of me seems to need him . . . It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before.
It feels too heavy, too much like all the things I’ve spent my adult life avoiding, and yet in the face of the all-consuming heat that is building in my head and my skin and deep, deep down in my belly—I can’t seem to fight it. I can’t seem to even want to, and shouldn’t that have me second-guessing this entire thing?
The snowfall is thicker the closer we get to Pleasant Hill, coming down in large flakes against the window to add to the lush blanket of powder white that coats the ground and the trees outside the car. Noah says very little during the entire trip, and outside of soft panting and low groans, I’m not exactly the picture of conversation either. The need to shift is more prominent now, that tightness in my skin worsening to the point that it feels like it might tear at any given second. It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before; a shifter in heat means being more of their animal self, after all, but I can’t remember it ever feeling so dire before. Everything about this time feels different and almost completely new.