Fox is watching me carefully, but he doesn’t look bothered by my staring. His expression isn’t embarrassed or angry—it’s intrigued.
The air between us thickens, charged with something electric and dangerous. A hot, prickling sensation ripples across my skin and I drag my tongue nervously over my suddenly dry lips.
He tilts his head slightly, one eyebrow arching upward in silent question. “Why did you come here again?”
I swallow, and for once I’m the one at a loss for what to say. Without a word, I flick my gaze toward the door—which hasbeen hanging halfway open this entire time—then look back at Fox.
Something ignites in his eyes, molten and predatory. His eyes flick toward the door too, as if asking: “Are you sure?”
In answer, I hold his gaze as I reach backwards with my foot and push the door closed.
The sound of the door snapping shut is like a starting pistol. Fox moves without speaking, his hands finding my waist. Before I can react, my feet leave the floor. Two strides and he’s depositing me onto his bed. He braces one knee on the edge, his body hovering over mine for a heartbeat before he straightens, remaining at the bedside. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
I push up on my knees and peer up at him in the semi-darkness. “I’m fine.”
“Good.”
He still makes no move to climb onto the bed after me, so I shuffle closer on my knees until I’m kneeling on the very edge of the mattress. If we were closer to the same size, we’d be chest to chest, but instead I find myself making eye contact with his wolf tattoo.
I carefully raise a hand to trace the ridges of his abs, something I’ve been fantasizing about since long before I entered this room. My fingertips trail down the carved muscles, following that thin line of hair that disappears below his navel. His skin burns beneath my touch, his stomach tensing as I drift lower.
A thrill shoots through me as he sucks in a sharp breath when I finally brush against his now painfully hard cock. I wrap my fingers around the wide base, my thumb and middle nowhere near touching, and my stomach tightens with nervous anticipation. I swallow hard, eyes widening as I take in his full size. “I don’t think…” My voice trails off as I give him a gentle,experimental stroke. His head falls back slightly, jaw clenching. “I don’t think this is going to fit.”
His pupils dilate as he looks down at me with an almost hungry look in his eyes. The muscle in his jaw ticks and his nostrils flare slightly with each measured breath. “Trust me,” he murmurs, stretching one hand out toward my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip, “when you’re wet enough, you’ll take all of me.”
His words send heat pooling between my thighs. A soft sound escapes my throat as I lean forward, my lips parting. My breath ghosts over the swollen head of his cock before my tongue darts out for a taste.
His fingers suddenly tangle in my hair, grabbing all of it in one hand and yanking me back. “Wait,” he growls, his chest heaving. “Don’t do that yet.”
I giggle and drag my tongue over my lips again. “Why? Seems like you like it.”
He growls wordlessly in the back of his throat and gives a gentle yank on my hair, guiding me to get to my feet. I scramble up, my hands falling to his shoulders to steady myself as I wobble on the edge of the bed.
My breath catches as our eyes meet, finally level. The pulse in his throat hammers visibly beneath his skin, jaw clenched tight enough that a muscle twitches along its edge. Our mouths are mere centimeters apart, but Fox doesn’t lean in to kiss me. Instead, he lowers his head, lips grazing the pulse point at my neck. My eyes flutter closed as his tongue traces a hot, damp path down to my collarbone. I gasp when his teeth scrape the sensitive hollow there.
His fingers dig into my hips, bunching silk between them, the whisper of fabric sliding up my thighs raising goosebumps across my skin. “Take this off.”
I lift my arms to help him pull the nightgown over my head, but as the silk slides upward, it snags on my wings. We both freeze.
Everyone knows what exposed wings during intimacy would typically signify. In any other circumstance, it would mean the beginning of a soul-bond, but this isn’t that. This is just leftover adrenaline, it doesn’t mean anything. Still, this is an unusual situation and my clothes just reminded us both of that.
Most Fae clothing is cut with low backs or slits to accommodate the wings, but my nightgown and dressing gown weren’t made like that. The expectation is that if you’re going to bed with your wings out, you’re not wearing clothes, anyway.
My fingers tremble as I reach down and grip Fox’s hands, guiding them away from my hips and up to the neck of my nightgown. “Rip it,” I gasp, my lips nearly brushing his.
Fox’s gaze turns molten. His fingers curl into the delicate fabric at my collar, and with one savage motion, he rends the nightgown in two. The torn silk slides down my skin like cool water until it pools on the bed by my feet, leaving me in nothing but my underthings
It’s not cold in the room, but goosebumps still erupt all over my body. My nipples pebble, and Fox’s breath comes hot against my right breast a moment before his mouth closes over the tight peak. The wet heat of his tongue sends lightning down my spine. I arch my back, pushing closer as his calloused thumb circles my other nipple. My fingers dig into the solid muscle of his shoulders as my knees threaten to buckle. The ceiling blurs above me as my head falls back, a sound escaping my throat that I barely recognize as my own.
Fox’s mouth releases my nipple with a wet sound before capturing the other, giving it the same attention as the first. His palm slides down the curve of my ribs, each fingertip leaving a trail of heat across my stomach. I feel achy and empty betweenmy legs, and gasp as Fox’s hand dips lower, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
My hips buck involuntarily when he traces the seam where my thigh meets my center, so close yet deliberately avoiding where I need him most. I whimper with anticipation.
“Open your legs wider,” he commands, voice rough.
I edge my feet farther apart on the mattress, my lips curving despite my desperation. “I feel like you’ve been telling me that all week.”
“And yet,” he murmurs, eyes darkening as they sweep over me, “you still haven’t learned.” His fingers press into my inner thighs, urging them further apart. I’m never going to be able to get this image out of my head the next time he tells me to adjust my fighting stance.
