Chapter 0215

The effect of my words on Sebastian is immediate. His dark eyes turn stormy, his throat working as if swallowing suddenly became difficult.

I return my gaze to the photograph. Young Sebastian is breathtaking. His radiant smile reaches his eyes, lighting them up with pure joy. I ache to see that expression on his face again someday.

The image hits me harder than expected. Maybe it's the mate bond intensifying everything. But the second I saw this photo, I knew—I want his children. A whole pack of pups with his smile, maybe a blend of our features. The desire burns hotter than anything I've ever felt.

In this moment, I'm certain. I want to be mated to this man. There are still issues to resolve, trust to rebuild. But the thought of another she-wolf claiming him? Unthinkable.

As I replace the photo, I notice Sebastian's shirt hangs open. Those sculpted abs demand attention. My fingers trace the ridges of his stomach up to his chest. "Is there a reason you're half-dressed?"

The shudder that runs through him at my touch sends power coursing through me. I love affecting this dominant alpha.

"Was going to remove it," he rasps. "For the haircut."

I push the fabric off his shoulders, letting my hands glide down his arms as the shirt pools on the floor. "Good plan," I murmur. "Where are we doing this?"

He jerks his thumb toward the bathroom but doesn't move. Doesn't stop staring.

My hands travel back up his arms, fingers threading through his hair. His gaze holds mine until I scratch lightly at his scalp. Then his eyes drift shut with a soft groan.

"Someone enjoys this as much as I do."

"Your touch... I crave it."

He tugs me toward the bathroom, settling in a chair. "No one's touched me like this since my mother died. Lovers, yes. But nothing lasting. This... this is different."

I comb through his thick locks before responding. "I can't imagine how lonely that must've been." Moving in front of him, I meet his gaze.

"Desolate," he admits, pulling me between his knees. "Want music while you work?"

His phone produces the playlist instantly, speakers in the bedroom carrying the melody.

The opening lyrics make me laugh. 'You're barely waking, and I'm tangled up in you.'

"Sounds familiar," I tease.

His hands find my hips, thumbs tracing circles. "I haven't slept this well in years. Not until you."

As I trim his hair, I savor the texture—soft curls slipping through my fingers. I leave enough length to enjoy the sensation. His contented sighs mingle with the music, creating an intimacy that feels like coming home.