I growl deep in my throat, but only because I want to do exactly what she’s asking for.
This is a crossroads. This is a choice. I’m not about to step over this line, only to pretend like I didn’t have control over myself.
There may be an animal inside of me, but I am not an animal.
I know there will be consequences. In this moment, I decide that they’re worth it as long as I can have the memory of at least one touch. One time where I know what Clementine sounds like when I’m giving her pleasure. Where I know exactly what she smells like after she comes.
I think I need that for my survival.
I come to kneel beside the bathtub, my eyes holding hers. “Tell me yes, or tell me no.”
The teasing drops away from her face, and as her eyes hold mine, there’s a note of vulnerability. Of hope and relief. She just found out she’s not dying, and I would bet my share of Local Brew that she wants to feel alive.
And I want to give her anything and everything she wants.
“Yes.”
20
CLEMENTINE
If Griffith doesn’t puthis hands on me soon, I think I might scream. I didn’t realize how much I wanted this, how much I needed it, until he crouched beside the tub and offered his hands.
With a wound eating away at me for weeks, my body hasn’t felt like my own. Someone else took something from me. They marked me. They decided my body would fail without my consent.
I need to take control of myself.
I’m so tired of pain. I want pleasure.
And I want this werewolf who I can’t get out of my head to give it to me.
And, yeah, maybe getting sexual with a werewolf is not the best idea. They can be territorial and possessive.
But I’ve never been intimidated by Griffith.
Now all he does to me is make me ache and burn.
Which is why I give him the only answer I can.
“Yes.”
His eyes suddenly go dark, and I swear I can see the wolf in them. He braces one arm on the lip of the tub, and with the other, he reaches forward and traces along my collarbone. His finger is rough, his skin somehow warmer than the hottest water setting.
His caress maps me, losing guidance once it disappears under the murky water. But he doesn’t need to see in order to find all my pleasure points. His thumb brushes over a nipple, then stops and swirls around it, tightening the bud until he can pinch and tug.
I gasp, then groan as my body clenches in a delicious way.
“So responsive, little mermaid.” His words are rough, and I swear I can feel them inside my skin.
His fingers drag downward, pausing where my wound once was. I sigh in relief that there’s still no pain. But I want more than to simply not hurt.
I want to feel good. So good.
“Touch me.”
“Where?”
And I know Griffith is just teasing me because, obviously, we both know where I want him. Or maybe he’s trying to establish some dominance in the situation. And yet I still feel like I am the one in control.
