Cecilia’s chest moved beneath his hands with every inhalation, but she was otherwise perfectly still as he explored her first through the thin material of her bra. When he couldn’t stand even that barrier, he dragged the cups down, exposing her completely. He was so focused on stroking and gently rolling them between his fingers that it took him a moment to realize she was trembling.
Freezing, he glanced at her expression and expected to see revulsion or fear.
Instead, he found a desire that mirrored his own. It darkened her cheeks and forced her to suck her lower lip between her teeth, holding back a faint whimper whenever he scraped his thumb claws over her sensitive flesh.
“You like this,” he marveled, pressing himself closer. “You like when I touch you.”
Cecilia huffed. “That obvious, huh?”
“No,” he answered, abandoning one breast to sneak his hand around her back. Pressing his palm against her tailbone, he rocked her forward again, recreating that singular, electric feeling of their hips meeting. Seeing the look of surprise and pleasure flicker across her flushed face was more thrilling than anything he’d ever experienced — even killing.
“Well, you’re doing a good job,” she assured him, voice thick.
“Tell me what to do next.”
Cecilia’s throat moved with a hard swallow. “I should probably stop you here.”
Sloane’s fingers curled, holding onto her possessively at even the suggestion that she might want to move from this perfect position. “Why?”
“Because this was our first date and this is new to you. We should go slow.”
Head tilting, he pressed, “But do youwantto go slow?”
Her tongue, small and pink and tempting, darted out to wet her lips. “No, I don’t.”
“What do you want, doe?”
Cecilia didn’t say anything. Instead, she slipped her hands between their bodies and popped the little white button at the top of her tweed shorts. Eyes dark and needy, she told him, “I want you to make me come.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
It was an absolutely terrible idea.Cecilia fully intended to do it anyway.
She didn’t stop to think about all the reasons she shouldn’t let Sloane slip his fingers inside her shorts. At some point between straddling his motorcycle and discovering that she was his mate, all good sense had been replaced by the desire she’d been failing to smother for days. Maybe even longer than that.
It seeped into every vein to burn away her reservations. Nothing mattered besides the heat and friction of his hands on her skin.
Her flushed reflection stared back at her in the smokey glass of his helmet as he dipped his fingers past the waistband of her panties. For a big, terrifying virgin, Sloane didn’t appear to be in any rush. He moved slowly, every muscle tight with restraint. Her senses were so heightened with anticipation that she swore she could feel the whorls of his fingerprints dragging over the soft skin of her stomach and mons.
“You’re so fragile,” he said, in what she imagined was a murmur. “And warm. Warmer than I thought you’d be.”
Cecilia bit her lip. Despite the fact that Sloane had exactly zero social graces to speak of, he had a devastating way withwords. She wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not that she couldn’t hear his real voice when he said things like that.
No, that’s a lie,she swiftly corrected herself,it’s a very, very bad thing. I’m already straddling his dick. I might as well hear his voice while I’m at it.
Trying not to squirm, she asked, “Sloane, is there a way for you to… turn off that filter thingy on your helmet? The voice one.”
His downward path stalled. “I… believe so. Would it please you to deactivate the modulator?”
“Yeah,” she answered thickly, “that would please me.”
Sloane’s left hand shot up to glide the tips of his claws below the curve of the helmet’s jaw. He must’ve hit some hidden mechanism because there was a metallic click. A tiny pop of feedback preceded a bass voice asking, “Are you pleased?”
Cecilia’s breath left her in an embarrassingly loudwhoosh.“Yes,” she wheezed, “I’m pleased.”
Sloane dropped his left hand to her breast. Giving it a possessive squeeze, he rasped, “Good.”
