Page 23 of Off Limits
Gabriel's smile was soft and private, the one that made Asher's chest ache. Then he was kissing Asher properly, slow and deep, morning breath and all. It should have been gross. Instead, it was perfect. Real in a way Asher's old life never had been.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathing harder, Gabriel's eyes had gone sharp around the edges. His wolf peeking through.
"Want you," Gabriel said, like it was that simple.
Maybe it was.
"Yeah," Asher breathed. "Yes."
By the time they made it out of bed, it was nearly noon. Asher was sore in all the best ways, sporting a fresh bite mark over the old one, and Gabriel looked extremely pleased with himself.
"You're going to be impossible all day, aren't you?" Asher asked, pulling on one of Gabriel's hoodies. It hung huge on him, but it smelled like Gabriel—pine and smoke and something justhimthat made Asher's nervous system always settle.
"Probably," Gabriel admitted, completely unrepentant.
He was only wearing sweatpants, and Asher took a moment to appreciate the view. Broad shoulders, trim waist, those hip bones that Asher loved to bite.
"You're staring," Gabriel said without looking up from where he was rebuilding the fire.
"You're worth staring at. All that lumberjack porn energy you've got going on."
Gabriel glanced back at him, eyebrow raised. "Lumberjack porn?"
"Flannel. Chopping wood. Muscles." Asher gestured vaguely. "It's honestly unfair."
"You're ridiculous."
"You love it," Asher said, hopping off the stool to wrap his arms around Gabriel from behind. "Admit it, you'd be bored as fuck with someone normal."
"Good thing you're about as far from normal as it gets," Gabriel said, but Asher could hear the smile in his voice.
"Rude. Accurate, but rude."
The kitchen was warm and cozy, herbs growing in pots on the windowsill that Asher pretended not to care about but secretly loved. Gabriel had taken over most of the cooking—he was better at it, and he liked taking care of Asher in these small ways.
Asher perched on his usual stool, watching Gabriel crack eggs with practiced efficiency. Domestic as fuck. If his old clients could see him now—the boy they'd paid to fuck, sitting in a cabin in the mountains, watching his mate make him breakfast…
"What're you thinking about?" Gabriel asked, glancing at him.
"How different everything is." Asher traced patterns on the counter. "Good different."
Later, they ended up in front of the fire with a bottle of whiskey Gabriel had been saving. The storm still raged outside, but inside was warm and golden, blankets piled around them like a nest.
Asher was pleasantly drunk, that loose-limbed feeling where everything felt soft around the edges. Gabriel's arm was around him, fingers playing idly with his hair, and Asher couldn't remember ever feeling this safe.
"Remember that first morning?" Gabriel asked, voice low and thoughtful. "After the full moon. When you kissed me on the mountain."
"You were so sure you'd hurt me," Asher reminded him, taking another sip of whiskey. "Looking at me like I might break if you touched me wrong."
"I thought I'd taken something that wasn't mine to take." Gabriel's hand tightened slightly in his hair. "Couldn't believe you actually wanted me back."
"I'd wanted you for years," Asher said, turning to look at him. "You could have had me as soon as I stopped being jailbait,” he said with a wicked grin. “I spent that whole summer hoping you'd bend me over Ray's truck."
Gabriel groaned. "You can't say shit like that."
"Why not? It's true. I had a whole elaborate fantasy about it. Very detailed. Want to hear it?"
"Asher—"
