Page 45 of Unclench Me Softly

He looks at me like I just ripped the moon out of the sky.

I hold up both hands like I’m warding off a very sexy demon. “I… okay,” I pant. “That was... not part of the... curriculum.”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t smirk. He just watches me. Quiet. Still. Wrecked in a way that makes me feel like I’ve opened something I don’t know how to close.

“I wasn’t gonna make it a thing,” he says, voice hoarse. “It just... happened.”

And then, thank the goddess and all her backup dancers, he turns and walks away into the dark like some kind of post-apocalyptic heartthrob disappearing into the mist.

I drop back onto the cushion and stare at the moon.

“Okay,” I whisper to the sky. “That was either a divine activation or I’ve finally been kissed so good my third eye opened.”

The moon does not respond.

After he’s gone, I sit there for a long time. Still staring at the moon, the steam clinging to my skin, the taste of him still on my lips like a secret that doesn’t want to fade.

I consider journaling.

Something sacred. Reflective. Maybe a gratitude list or a guided question like “What am I surrendering today?”

I grab my notebook and write:

“What am I surrendering today?”

Then underneath it, in all caps:

CONTROL. DIGNITY. MAYBE MY UNDERWEAR IF THIS KEEPS UP.

I cross it out. Rewrite:

“I am grateful for emotional breakthroughs, bodily awareness, and... jawlines.”

Cross that out too.

New heading:

REWILDING THE INNER WOLF-CUB: FINAL DRAFT

I write:

Crawling meditation (primal reclaiming of ground-based power)

Shirtless forest run (probably a terrible idea but honestly I need it)

Group howling (must not make sexual or jokes)

Nest-building with natural, non-phallic materials

Post-howling reflection circle

Optional pack cuddling?? (no. Cross that out.)

Then, underneath in the margins:

“Do not look at Jax’s mouth tomorrow.”

“Do not make him howl first.”

---