I push the blanket down.
He is beautiful in a way that should have another word. Rugged. Scarred. Powerful. Unashamed. Every part of him looks like it was made to survive war and bad roads and worse men.
And right now, because of me, he is barely breathing.
That does something to me.
Something wicked.
Something brave.
I touch his cock with trembling fingers.
His hand fists in the blanket.
I look up fast. “Okay?”
His laugh is rough enough to scrape. “You’re asking me?”
“I’m new at this.”
“I noticed.”
“Rude.”
“Love.” His voice drops. “I’m hanging on by a thread.”
My whole body warms.
“Well.” I lower my mouth, then pause because apparently even my courage has a dramatic flair. “Hold on better.”
Then I taste him.
His curse is quiet, vicious, and absolutely the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.
Power moves through me. Hot and bright. He could stop me. He could guide me. He could take over in half a second.
He doesn’t.
He lets me learn.
Lets me be curious.
Lets me set the pace until I get braver and his hand tightens in my hair.
“That’s it,” he rasps. “Just like that.”
Praise from Shadow should not make my entire body melt.
It does.
I learn the sounds he tries to swallow. The way his stomach tightens when I use my tongue. The way his breathing turns ragged when I get confident. The way his control breaks in pieces, not all at once.
A flex of his jaw.
A curse under his breath.
A rougher grip in my hair.
