Inside, I lie perfectly still.
Her fingers shift slightly. Closer.
Half an inch now.
I don’t move. Barely breathe. Just wait to see if she closes the distance, if unconsciousness lowers her guard enough that instinct takes over, if morning brings us tangled together in ways neither of us intended.
The storm builds outside.
And I wait.
Chapter 12
Nadia
Heat. That’s the first thing I’m aware of. Heat beneath my palms, solid and bare and impossibly warm. My hands are splayed across skin, mapping muscle and bone and the steady thunder of a heartbeat that races beneath my touch.
Mouth on mine. Hot. Demanding. Kissing me like he’s been starving for this, like I’m the only thing that matters, like nothing exists except this friction and heat and need.
My hips move, grinding my mound against something hard. Thick. The pressure sends sparks through my nervous system, makes me gasp into his mouth, makes me rock harder, seeking more of that perfect friction.
His hands are in my hair. On my back. Sliding under fabric to find bare skin. Every touch makes me arch closer, makes sounds escape my throat that I don’t recognize, makes the heat building in my belly coil tighter.
I want—
Need—
My wolf is snarling approval. Demanding more. Demanding everything.
His mouth moves to my throat, and teeth scrape against my pulse point. Not breaking skin. Just pressure. Just the promise of marking and claiming and—
Something shifts.
The mattress beneath me is real. The darkness is real. The warmth under my palm is—
My eyes flutter open.
Darkness. The motel room. Jericho beneath me.
Jericho.
When did he switch from “Commander Allon” to Jericho?
Doesn’t matter. I’m sprawled across his chest, my hand on his bare stomach where his shirt has ridden up. My leg hooked over his hip. My mouth— Was I just kissing his throat?
This isn’t—
Was I—?
I know this is wrong. That pulling away would be the right thing to do…
But my hand slides higher on his chest before I can stop it. Fingers finding the hollow of his throat. Feeling his pulse hammer there.
He’s awake. Has to be awake with the way his breathing has gone shallow and careful, with the way every muscle in his body has gone taut beneath me.
My wolf surges.
Want. Need. Mine.
