He looked at me with naked hope in his eyes. “And how do you feel?”
I moved from the armchair to the couch, sitting close enough that our thighs touched. “Like I want to know everything about you—human and wolf. Like I want to keep dating you and see where this goes. Like I really, really want to finally get you into bed and find out if your control is actually as fragile as you think it is.”
A rumbling sound came from his chest—not quite a growl, but something deeper and more primal than a normal human could produce. “You shouldn’t tempt me,” he warned, but he was already leaning closer.
“Why not?” I challenged, tilting my head to expose my neck in what was pure instinct but apparently the right move, given the way his eyes flashed gold. “I’m not afraid of you, Mason.”
“You should be,” he whispered, but his hand was already sliding around the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
“Prove it,” I whispered back.
His kiss was different this time—less restrained, more primal. There was a hint of teeth, sharper than they should be, and when I opened my eyes briefly, I caught a flash of gold in his.
I pulled him closer, practically climbing into his lap, and he groaned into my mouth. His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging in just shy of painful, and lifted me fully onto his lap with embarrassing ease.
“Bedroom,” I gasped against his mouth. “Now.”
For once, he didn’t argue. He stood, lifting me with him like I weighed nothing, my legs wrapping around his waist. I directed him between kisses, and somehow we made it to my bedroom without crashing into any walls, which I considered a victory given Mason’s usual coordination.
He set me on the edge of the bed and stepped back, his chest heaving. His eyes were more gold than amber now, and I could see the internal struggle playing out on his face.
“We can stop,” I offered, though it nearly killed me to say it. “If you’re not ready.”
“I want this,” he said roughly. “I want you. I just don’t want to scare you.”
“Then don’t,” I said simply. “Show me all of you, Mason. I want to see.”
He hesitated, then nodded once, decision made. He reached for the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion.
Holy mother of god,I thought reverently.
Mason shirtless was a religious experience. His chest and shoulders were even broader than they appeared clothed, sculpted muscle shifting under golden skin. A dusting of dark hair covered his pectorals, thickening as it traveled down to forma trail leading into his jeans. His abs were defined but not overly cut—the solid, functional muscle of someone naturally powerful rather than gym-crafted.
But it wasn’t just his impressive physique that caught my attention. There were scars—old, silvery lines across his ribs, a larger one on his left shoulder that looked like a bite mark. Marks of a life I knew nothing about yet.
“Your turn,” he said, his voice low and rough.
I suddenly felt inadequate. I was in decent shape—lean and toned from regular running and yoga—but compared to Mason, I was practically fragile.
Still, the hunger in his eyes gave me courage. I unbuttoned my shirt slowly, letting it fall open to reveal my chest and stomach. His eyes tracked every movement, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from touching me.
I shrugged the shirt off completely, feeling exposed and aroused by his intense gaze.
“Can I touch you?” he asked, so formally it almost made me laugh.
“Please do,” I said, reaching for him.
He came to me then, pressing me back onto the bed and covering my body with his. The weight of him was incredible—heavy but carefully distributed so he didn’t crush me. His skin burned against mine, hotter than a normal human, and the hair on his chest created a delicious friction as he moved.
His mouth found my neck, lips and tongue exploring the sensitive skin there. When he scraped his teeth—definitely sharper than normal—lightly across my pulse point, I arched up with a gasp.
“Too much?” he murmured against my skin.
“Not enough,” I countered, my hands roaming his broad back, feeling the shift and play of muscles beneath my fingers.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me, and continued his exploration, moving down to my chest. When his mouth closed around my nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive bud, I let out a sound that would have embarrassed me if I’d been capable of embarrassment at that moment.
His hand slid down my stomach to the waistband of my jeans, hesitating there. “Is this okay?”
