Page 116 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Besides, it’ll be bad if everyone knows just how sensitive you are,” he grins, all teeth.

I roll my eyes. This bastard messes with me too much. Let’s see if he likes it when I return the favor.

Emboldened, I work the laces of his pants open. Garrett’s eyes widen, his throat working. When I finally get my hand around him he makes a sound that goes straight through me.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Yes. Just like that.”

I stroke him slowly, learning what makes his breath catch. The way his hips jerk when my thumb swipes over the head. How he groans when I tighten my grip.

I watch his face as I work him. Eyes fluttering closed. Lips parting. The flush spreading across his cheeks.

I’m making him fall apart. His breathing gets faster, more ragged. His hips start moving, fucking into my hand with increasing desperation.

“Wolf—” My name escapes from his lips. “I’m going to—”

I stroke him faster, twisting my wrist the way that made him gasp before.

He comes with a harsh grunt, spilling over my hand. His whole body goes rigid and shudders through it. I work him through it until he’s gasping, catching my wrist to still my hand.

We lie there for a moment, both breathing hard. His forehead presses against my shoulder. He lifts his head to look at me and there’s something soft in his expression.

His hands slide to my belt again, and this time I don’t stop him. I watch as he works the buckle open. But before he can go further, a bell tower chimes in the distance.

Once. Twice. Three times. Marking the hour.

Dawn has arrived. We both freeze, the spell breaking. Garrett looks toward the window where gray light is starting to seep through the curtains. Then back at me.

“You should get some rest before the day starts,” I manage, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Yes,” he agrees finally. But he doesn’t move or bother getting back to his own room.

Instead, he shifts to lie closer beside me, his forehead pressing against mine. “You know what I think?”

“What?” I breathe.

“I think you’re scared. Not of staying, but of wanting to stay.” His eyes search mine.

My heart is pounding so hard he must be able to hear it.

“You’ve been watching me so you know I’m pretty greedy. Three fucking days isn’t enough,” he continues, his hand moving from my throat to cup my jaw. His thumb traces my lower lip. “I want more time. I want you to trust me the way I trust you. I want—”

He trails off. But I understand what he’s not saying.

He wants forever.

“You think the guild can stop me?” Something fierce enters his voice. “Even if the whole world is against us, I’ll never let you go.”

I want to believe it’s possible. That someone like him could want someone like me permanently and the guild would let me walk away.

But wanting something doesn’t make it real.

His breathing gradually slows, becomes deeper. More even. The tension drains from his body as sleep pulls him under.

I lie there, feeling the weight of him against my side. His forehead still pressed to my shoulder.

Garrett’s hand is still resting on my chest, right over my heart.