Full Moon by Rachel Hawthorne (best biographies to read .txt) 📕

“I know. I’m not angry. I’m just…suddenly very tired.”

“I know you didn’t bring a sleeping bag,” he said. “I promise we’ll just sleep.”

He didn’t wait for my answer, but simply moved to grab his sleeping bag from the back of his bike where it was secured. Although I felt immensely guilty, I couldn’t deny the comforting anticipation of curling up beside him, sleeping in his arms. I’d never even thought about lying in Connor’s arms. But I knew that it would seem natural with Connor, too. I’d never questioned that he would always be there for me. Now I was worried that I might not be there for him.

I watched as Rafe rolled out the sleeping bag. Crouching, he reached up and threaded his fingers through mine, giving a slight tug. I knelt and stretched out on the sleeping bag. In the next heartbeat he was lying on his back beside me, tucking me into the curve of his side. I could feel the strength in his hold, the firmness in his muscles. I rested my cheek in the nook of his shoulder and listened to the steady pounding of his heart. I thought I should say something, but it seemed that any words I uttered would be insignificant when compared with this moment. He’d promised we would only sleep, but lying this close to him, I found myself wishing for more. I longed for another kiss. I yearned to feel the touch of his fingers on my skin. I wanted that intimacy with a fierceness I’d never experienced before.

Rafe shifted, curling himself around me until I was absorbed in the cocoon of his warmth. I wanted to resist. Instead I relaxed until I fit against him, my body molded to his.

I’d thought we were going in search of the most dangerous thing in the forest. I’d been wrong. Right that moment, the most dangerous thing I could face had his arms wrapped around me—and I’d never felt so remarkably safe.

TWELVE

The next morning, I awoke to find myself still snuggled against Rafe. He’d held me all night, and I didn’t want to leave the comfort of his arms. I didn’t remember ever sleeping as deeply, even when I was in a bed rather than on the forest floor. As a result, my dreams had been incredibly vivid and disturbingly real. They’d all revolved around Rafe kissing me until my toes curled—which didn’t take much time at all. I’d had one awful dream in which he and Connor had fought over me. As far as I knew, that had never happened in the modern era, but apparently it had been quite common among Shifters in ancient times. Sometimes I was amazed that our species hadn’t become extinct.

I burrowed my face into the curve of his shoulder, wondering if he was an early riser and what kind of mood he might wake up in. As for me, I couldn’t believe how rested I felt.

It was his kiss near my temple that alerted me: He was awake. His lips were soft and warm, and I wanted to bring them down to mine and kiss him deeply, but I was afraid to indulge my wishes until I was sure of my feelings. I couldn’t deny that they were growing, but would they exceed the affection I felt for Connor? Had they already surpassed those feelings? Was it even possible to measure what the heart felt?

I tilted my head back and met Rafe’s warm, brown gaze. Before I could say good morning, he was kissing me, sweeping away my doubts and my guilt. For a few moments, lost in the wonder of his mouth moving over mine, I was on vacation, with no worries, no stress, no pressing dangers. I relaxed into him and felt his muscles bunching and relaxing as I skimmed my fingers over his shoulders and back. He was so strong, so powerful. I wanted this, I wanted the surety he exhibited, I wanted to know—to know deep down—that he was the one. But several hours in his company couldn’t erase the lifetime I’d spent with Connor as the male meant for me.

Regretfully, I pulled back. His gaze touched on each aspect of my face—my chin, my lips, my nose, my eyes, my forehead—as if he wished to continue kissing them all.

“Too early for spontaneous kisses?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. He gave me a wry grin. I stroked the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Lindsey. I’m patient. The moon isn’t.”

With that reminder, he rolled out of the sleeping bag. I immediately mourned his absence. Shaking off this yearning, I sat up, reached for my backpack, and removed my hairbrush. After unbraiding my hair, I worked the brush through it.

Rafe crouched in front of me and set down a package of six chocolate-covered doughnuts.

“Oh, my favorites,” I said excitedly.

“I know.”

I looked up at him. “How did you know?”

“You’re a chocolate fiend.” Reaching out, he tugged playfully on my hair. “Wear it loose today.”

“It’ll be a tangled mess by tonight.”

“I’ll comb it out.”

“Have you ever fought the tangles in windblown hair? It’s a battle you’ll want to avoid. Sorry. I’ll wear it down when we go to bed tonight.”

He gave me a sexy grin. “That’ll work.”

After a hastily eaten breakfast, we packed up and I positioned myself behind Rafe on the bike. “Can you tap into my dreams like you do my thoughts?” I asked.

He gave me a sideways look and winked. “Only if I’m awake.”

Before I could ask if he had slept last night—I had to know if he’d seen my dreams—he’d turned on the engine and we were flying through the forest again.

It wasn’t as bright as it had been the day before. If it rained, we probably would have to travel by foot because the bike might