Page 66 of Sawyer

Islipped my fingers under my collar, brushing them against the spot on my shoulder where Sawyer’s mark was still a little swollen.

The two indentations felt like the sting of an insect bite—subtle, barely noticeable, but carrying so much more weight. It was strange how something so small could mean so much.

When Sawyer gave me the mate mark, I didn’t expect to feel him so deeply, like a part of him had latched onto my soul.

The warmth coursing through me was more than physical. It was like being wrapped in comfort I didn’t know I’ve been missing.

It felt like coming home.

Afterward, I thought we’d do more—something to match the intensity of the bond we’d just formed.

There was this itch, this craving for his touch, to feel more of him. But instead, Sawyer had just carried me to bed, laying me down gently and kissing me softly.

His lips lingered on mine for a moment, and then he settled beside me, draping his arm over me as he drifted off to sleep.

It was nice, but it wasn’t what I’d expected.

Maybe he was tired, or maybe he thought I was, after everything that had happened. Either way, the bond left me aching, wanting something more, something deeper.

I sighed and stood up from my desk, glancing out the store window.

The day had been dragging, and the stillness made the restless energy inside me feel even more intense.

“Do you think anyone’s still going to come in, Benny?” I asked, half-expecting the little dachshund to react.

But when I turned, he was curled up at the foot of my desk, chewing on his toy.

I checked my watch—still an hour before closing. Nothing was really happening today, and I had already let Chris off early.

Now, all I could think about was seeing Sawyer tonight. I sat back down at my desk, phone in hand, and started typing.

Casey: What time are you coming by later?

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, rereading the text a few times, debating if I sounded… desperate? Too eager? Before I could decide whether to delete the message, Sawyer replied.

Sawyer: The usual. Want me to grab dinner?

I was about to type a quick "yes" when another text popped up.

Sawyer: No mini sandwiches or bagel bites.

I chuckled. I couldn’t decide whether to be offended or amused.

Was it that obvious those were my favorites? The grocery store below my place always had them on sale when I passed by after work, so they were an easy grab.

Plus, they were perfect snacks when we were lounging on the couch, watching shows.

They would’ve been perfect for tonight since we’d planned to watch that new crime documentary I’d been eyeing.

Then again, dinner wasn’t really what I wanted. Not tonight.

My thoughts drifted to Sawyer. I could already feel his hands on my skin, the way his touch sent a spark through me, lighting up every inch of my body.

I imagined his rough fingers gliding over me, tracing a slow path down my spine, stopping just before they reached the curve of my hips.

His grip would tighten, teasingly, and the anticipation would make my breath hitch.

I pictured the press of his chest against mine, his breath hot on my neck as his lips moved lower—from my jaw to my collarbone until they brushed against the mark on my shoulder.