What are you waiting for then?
My Wolf’s voice slithers through me, hungry and coiled tight, breath steaming in my thoughts.
And for once, the growly bastard has a point.
“Should I make some coffee?”Megan asks, pointing toward the pot on the counter.
Her voice is casual, light.
But her eyes?
Those hazel eyes are wide, curious, and full of something that looks a hell of a lot like want.
I don’t answer.
I reach for her instead.
I tug her to me gently—but firmly.The way a man reaches for what’s his.
She comes willingly, gasping softly as our bodies align, her palms flattening against my chest like she’s bracing for impact.
That dimple shows again as she presses her lips together, like she doesn’t know whether to smile or run.
“What—what are you doing?”she whispers, her voice unsteady.
I drop my head, mouth a hair’s breadth from hers.
“You ate all your dinner,” I murmur, voice low and rough.
“So?”
“So,” I repeat, anticipation bussing in my veins like a live wire, “It’s time for dessert.”
Then I kiss her.
Not fast.
Not hard.
Just lips brushing.Breath to breath.A soft, tentative pressure that sends shockwaves through my entire system.
It’s not raunchy.Not hungry.
Not yet.
But it’s still the most phenomenal fucking thing I’ve ever felt.
Her mouth is soft.Warm.Willing.
My entire body tightens as she melts against me, her fingers curling into my shirt.
She gasps.
And that’s it.That’s my invitation.
I slide my tongue past her lips, groaning as I finally taste her—really taste her—from the source.
And it’s perfect.
