His touch is everywhere—my waist, my belly, my ass, my thighs—strong and steady, grounding me even as everything inside me spins.
And I touch him back.
Because I want to.
Because I need to.
Because this isn’t something he’s taking.
It’s something we’re sharing.
Clothes fall away piece by piece until there’s nothing left between us.
No barriers.
No excuses.
Just us.
The head of his cock bumps against my entrance, and I hiss at the contact.
“You don’t have to wear anything,” I whisper, cheeks heating as the words leave my mouth.
His brows lift, slow and wicked, like he’s savoring every syllable.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, leaning in just enough that his mouth brushes mine without quite kissing me. “You mean that?”
I swallow, but I don’t back down.
“I mean it,” I say, softer now. “I’m not ovulating and, well, you know. I’m clean.”
That last bit is a Shifter perk. No transferable STDs.
With supes, overall good health is kind of a given.
His gaze darkens, something rough and satisfied flickering there.
“Same,” he growls.
And that’s it—I lose it.
A laugh bubbles out of me, unexpected and a little breathless.
“Good to know it’s not your fertile time, Stripes,” I tease, nudging his shoulder.
He huffs out a laugh of his own, shaking his head like I’ve just done something outrageous.
“You’re gonna earn yourself a spanking, Cookie.”
“Oh, yeah?” I shoot back, lifting my chin. “You threatening me or promising?”
His grin turns downright sinful at that.
“Careful,” he murmurs, dipping his head to nip lightly at my earlobe. “I might just have to prove it.”
I gasp, but I’m smiling, my hands sliding up his chest, pushing at him just enough to create space.
“Big talk for a guy who just admitted he’s not ovulating,” I say.
