"Lex," she breathed when he broke away to kiss down her throat. "Lex, please?—"
"I've got you." He shoved her coat from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before he lifted her easily, and her legs wrapped around his waist. "I've got you, sweetheart."
The walk down the hallway felt like a mile, though his stride ate up the distance in seconds. Every instinct he possessed was screaming, a chaotic overlapping of mate-safe-mine-home.
He kicked his bedroom door open and nudged it shut with his heel, sealing them inside. The air in here was cooler, smelling of pine and slightly of engine grease—his scent. And soon, it would smell like her. Like them.
He didn't bring her to the bed immediately. He just held her there in the center of the dimly lit room, her legs wrapped tight around his waist, her face buried in the crook of his neck. The trust in that grip nearly brought him to his knees. She was small, soft, breakable. And she had looked his wolf in the eye and demanded he let it loose.
"Lex," she whispered, the vibration of it running through his chest.
"I know." His voice was a ruin of gravel. "I know, sweetheart."
He lowered her to the edge of the mattress. It was a functional thing, the bedding plain and dark, the room sparse. He’d never cared about comfort before. Now he wished he had silk sheets to lay her on, something worthy of the skin he was about to worship.
He stepped back, creating a foot of torture between them, and grabbed the hem of his shirt. He ripped it over his head in one motion, tossing it blindly into the corner.
Jules sat frozen on the edge of the bed. Her eyes took him in, wide and drinking deep. She didn't look at his face. She looked at the ink staining his throat and right arm, the jagged scars that mapped out a history of violence and mistakes.
"You're—" She swallowed hard, her gaze tracing the thick scar tissue on his shoulder. "God, you're beautiful."
The words struck him with visceral force. He felt twisted, scarred, rough. But looking at her looking at him, he felt like a king.
"That's my line."
He dropped to his knees between her spread legs. This was where he belonged. At her feet. In her service.
His hands went to her boots. His movements were deliberate, fighting the tremor of restraint in his fingers. He unlaced the left, then the right, sliding them off and setting them aside. He peeled her socks away, tossing them, until her bare feet rested on his thighs. He wrapped his hands around her ankles, the contrast of his callused, grease-stained fingers against her pale skin making his wolf growl with obsessive pleasure.
He leaned forward, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the arch of her foot, then her ankle. She twitched, a sharp intake of breath hissing through her teeth.
He dragged his hands up her calves, over the denim of her jeans, up to the hem of her sweater.
"I know it's cold," he rasped, looking up at her. His eyes felt wild, burning. "But I need this off. I need to see you."
"Yes. Everything. I want—" She scrambled to help him, her movements frantic as she pulled the sweater over her head. "I want everything."
The sweater joined his shirt on the floor. She sat before him in a simple cotton bra, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She was perfect. The shadows in the room clung to the curves of her waist, the slope of her neck.
Lex groaned, a low rumble that started in his chest and ended in his throat. He surged up, the animal in him snapping the leash. He bore her back onto the mattress, his weight settling over her, not crushing, but encompassing. Caging her.
She was so warm. Warmer than any human had a right to be. Her hands immediately found his sensitive skin, palms skating over his biceps, his back, her nails digging in just enough to ground him.
"You're sure?" he asked, his voice harsh, barely recognizing it as his own. His fingers hooked into the front clasp of her bra. "Jules, listen to me. Once we do this, there's no going back. You'll be mine. Permanently. The pack will know. Everyone will know. There is no walking away from a wolf once he claims you."
Her eyes were clear, green and bright in the dim light. She didn't flinch. She just arched her back, pressing her chest against his hand.
"I'm sure," she whispered, then stronger, "I've never been more sure of anything."
The clasp snapped open. He shoved the fabric aside and lowered his head.
He didn’t just kiss her; he devoured her. Taking one peaked nipple into his mouth, he swirled his tongue, teeth scraping lightly, sucking hard enough to bruise. Jules cried out, her back bowing off the mattress, her hands flying up to cradle his head and hold him there.
The sound went straight to his cock, hardening him to the point of pain.
"Lex—"
"I'm here." He moved to the other breast, lavishing it with the same dark, hungry attention. "I'm right here."
