My fingertips brush the pointed tips of his ears, and he shudders, a visible ripple running through those powerful shoulders.
He shifts, bracing one knee on either side of my hips, his weight hovering, his warmth chasing away the lingering chill.
“I want to see you,” he murmurs, his hands settling on my hips, thumbs stroking circles through the soft fabric of my thermal shirt. “All of you. But only if you want that, too.”
In answer, I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. Cool air kisses my skin, quickly followed by his heat, his gaze devouring but reverent. He reaches behind me, fingers brushing my spine as he finds the clasp of my bra and eases it free, letting the straps slide down my arms before setting the garment aside. The firelight paints my skin gold, and I fight the urge to cover myself as his eyes go dark with hunger.
“Goddess,” he breathes, his hands sliding up my ribcage with reverent slowness. “You’re perfect.”
When his palms cup my breasts, I can’t hold back a gasp. His hands are so large they engulf me completely, warm and slightly rough against my sensitive skin. A deep rumbling purr starts in his chest, vibrating through his palms into my flesh. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt—primal, consuming, utterly intoxicating. His thumbs circle my nipples, and a tremor runs through me, my body arching into his touch before I can stop it.
“You’re purring,” I breathe, the sound thrumming through me, low and steady.
“Can’t help it.” His voice is rough, a purr threading through every word. “Happens when I’m touching something precious.”
The sound rumbles against my body, low and rhythmic, each note sliding through me like molten honey. When he dips his head to take one aching peak into his mouth, the vibration intensifies—pleasure blooming sharp and bright. I arch, fingers tangling in his braids, pulling him closer.
“So responsive,” he murmurs with obvious satisfaction. “I love how you react to my touch.”
“Your turn,” I manage, tugging at his thermal Henley. “I want to see you too.”
He helps me strip the shirt away, and all I can do is stare. All that gorgeous, muscled skin is mine to touch, to explore, to claim. His chest is massive, tattooed emerald skin stretched over muscles that ripple with each breath. In the firelight, he’s breathtaking—all that vibrant green contrasting with the warm fireglow, making him look both dangerous and beautiful.
His skin catches the firelight like polished jade. The rapid pulse at his throat tells me he’s not as controlled as he appears.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, letting my hands map the broad expanse of his chest. My fingers trace the ridges of muscle, the fascinating texture of his skin, and the small scars that speak of a life spent in dangerous work. “So different, but so beautiful.”
When I lean in to press a kiss to his collarbone, he makes a sound low in his throat—half growl, half purr—that sends heat pooling between my thighs.
“Laney,” he breathes, his hands sliding into my hair. “I want to taste you. Every inch of you.”
He kisses me then, deep and claiming, and I melt into him. His hands are everywhere—skating down my back, gripping my bottom, sliding up to cup my breasts again. Each touch sets me on fire, makes me ache for more.
When he breaks the kiss, we’re both panting. His eyes are nearly black with desire, pupils blown wide.
“Let me take my time learning you properly,” he says, his voice rough with want. “Let me show you what a good girl you are for trusting me like this.”
I lie back against the pillows. The way he’s looking at me—like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen—makes me feel brave and beautiful and wanted in a way I’ve never experienced.
Shifting back on his heels, he strips off his jeans, and my breath catches at the sight of him. He’s enormous everywhere, his arousal straining against his boxer briefs, and for a moment, anticipation and trepidation tremble through me, sharp and sweet.
Catching the flicker of fear that must have crossed my face, he pauses. “We’re not doing that tonight,” he says gently. “Tonight’s about learning each other. About pleasure without pressure.” He lies on the blanket beside me, propping himself on one elbow so he can look down at me. “Is that okay?”
Relief and gratitude flood through me as I let out a breath. “More than okay.”
“Good.” He leans down to kiss me softly. “Because I plan to spend hours discovering every sound you make, every place that makes you gasp, every single thing that makes you tremble beneath my touch.”
His mouth trails down my throat, pausing to suck gently at the hollow near my collarbone. When he reaches my breasts, he takes his time—kissing, licking, and using the careful edge of his tusks to create sensations I’ve never felt before.
The slight danger of them against my sensitive skin makes everything more intense. He’s so careful, so controlled, usingthem to tease and heighten sensation without ever crossing the line into pain.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my skin. “The sounds you make. I could get drunk on them.”
His hand slides down my belly, fingers working at the button of my jeans. “Can I?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”
He strips my jeans and underwear away with efficient care, and then I’m completely bare beneath his heated gaze. His eyes map every curve, every dip and hollow, with an intensity that makes me feel seen in a way I never have before.
