He didn’t move or speak. He lay awake, and he knew I knew he was awake and neither of us was pretending otherwise.
He turned his head and looked at me in the gray light. His fully alert, pale blue eyes held the particular quality of attention he gave me and no one else. Like I was the only thing in his territory worth tracking.
We stared at each other.
Just him, open, waiting.
Me maybe waiting too.
I moved first.
Slowly, giving him every chance to read my intention, I eased up and kissed him.
For one breath he went still, the barely-controlled restraint he always showed around me locking every muscle. Then he kissed me back and the sweetness cracked open into heat so fast my breath caught. His hand came to my jaw, tilting my face, and he deepened our kiss until I couldn’t remember who or what I was. Only him.
He pulled back first, his breathing rough and uneven.
He searched my face. “Can I touch you?”
The question undid all the parts of me I’d spent so much time fusing together. I’d expected a wolf king to take, not ask.
“Yes.”
He kissed me again, slower this time, rolling me onto my back. Climbing over me. I loved how he wasn’t rushing this. He traced my collarbone, my shoulder, and the curve of my waist through my nightgown. He watched and listened for every response I gave him.
A flick of my finger shut our door with magic, leaving us alone with this exploration.
He cupped my breast through the fabric, his gaze fixed on my face. The warmth of his palm bled through the thin linen, and I felt the contact in places that had nothing to do with his hand. My moan surprised me, coming out lower and less controlled than anything I’d made before, a sound that didn’t belong to the woman I’d been a short time ago.
He’d learned my language. It turned out I’d been the subject worth studying all along.
His mouth quirked up on one side. “Tell me everything you like, wife.”
“This. Everything you’re doing.”
“This too?” His thumb stroked across my nipple through my nightgown.
Arching my back, I let loose another guttural, needy sound.
He paused, that look crossing his face again, showing me he wanted permission to keep going.
I kissed his hand, then pressed it back to my breast.
Leaning over me, he sucked my nipple into his mouth through the fabric and the sensation shot straight down through my belly to somewhere lower, making heat pool in my limbs. I lifted my hips off the mattress, releasing a sound I would’ve been mortified by twenty minutes ago. Now I didn’t care at all.
His warm wetness nearly undid what was left of my control. Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back, giving into the pleasure.
He stroked my other breast, rolling the nipple, gently tugging while he sucked on the first.
His hand slid lower, over my hip, and stopped there, giving me time to pull away or say this was too much.
I had no interest in stopping him now. I craved him in a way I had never wanted another man before.
He eased downward, dragging his mouth from my breast and over my ribs. I lost the ability to form a complete thought. His lips were warm and unhurried, tracing my belly in a way that made my muscles jump beneath my skin. Every place he touched felt newly mapped, newly mine.
He paused below my navel, his breath warm against my skin, and looked up.
That pale blue gaze, direct and entirely focused on me, made my heart seize. No one had ever looked at me like I was the whole experiment.
