“Look at me,” he says.
I open my eyes. The shadows are moving along his jaw, his throat, licking up his arms where they hold me. His eyes are black, his lips are parted, he rolls his hips, and my breath breaks.
“There,” I manage.
He does it again. Slower. Grinding at the depth that makes my thighs shake. I clench, and a sound comes out of him that’s barely controlled.
“Again.”
He gives me what I ask for, and my vision blurs. His grip shifts on my thigh, hitching me higher, changing the angle, and the next thrust hits something that makes me cry out.
He doesn’t stop. He heard the sound, and he found the angle, and now he’s there, right there, and each thrust lands with an accuracy that should not be possible from a man who was shaking against a wall moments ago.
The tempo builds. Faster. His grip on my hip is going to leave marks and I want it to. The shadows wrap my wrists, press against my pulse points, pulse in time with something deeper.
Everything he contained in the car pouring through unchecked. What he’s feeling doubles back into my own bodyand feeds back, and the loop tightens until I can’t tell where his pleasure ends, and mine begins.
“I’m here,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His rhythm stutters. He presses his face into my neck and drives into me harder, faster, losing control, and I want the loss. I hold on with everything I have.
The pressure builds low and tight and specific. His breath goes ragged against my throat, and he shifts his angle one more time, and that’s it. I break. The orgasm rips through me, my whole body locks around him, and the sound I make fills the dark room. I feel it echo and hit him, and his grip goes bruising, and he thrusts once, twice, and comes apart.
The sound he makes is low and shattered. The shadows pull taut around both of us. Both hearts between us stop for one beat. Restart.
We stay against the wall. My legs still around him. His face in my neck. The shadows retreat slowly.
I run my fingers through his hair.
“A wolf,” he says finally. Still pressed to my throat.
I laugh. It comes out shaky. “You’re still on that?”
“You slept with a wolf shifter and didn’t know it.”
“I was twenty-four and human.”
“Your instincts should have flagged something.”
“My instincts were busy. I had a fight the next morning. He was just… in between.”
He lifts his head. Looks at me.
“In between,” he repeats.
“In between.”
His expression settles.
“He’ll be at the activation,” I say. “If he’s Iron Claw.”
“Probably.”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
His hand finds the back of my neck again. Gentler now. His thumb traces my cheek.
“Not for me.”
