Page 115 of Lamb

I stiffened. I would not deny that I had been teasing him, even if only a little, but I had not expected the blatant response. Lamb loved to tease and torment me in the most convoluted ofways. Apparently, his filter dropped when he was tired. It was interesting. It was new. I added it to the file.

“Such a gentleman,” I scoffed.

Lamb did not rise to the jab. Instead, his hand tightened around my waist, pulling me closer as his hard mass wedged its way between my arse cheeks. “Gentleisn’t your type,” he growled.

“Oh yeah?” I wiggled. “Then whatismy type?”

“Me.” Lamb pressed a wet, demanding kiss to my neck. “Andonlyme.”

A hand turned rogue as it skated up from my waist, tracing the small dips of my breasts as it climbed higher over my chest. His fingers circled over my shoulders and slid down the length of my arms. In the dark, I could see and feel his hands as they found mine own, encircling them in his larger palms.

I wanted to have the last word, to say thatLambcould not be defined as a type, per se. But a deep-seated warmth kept my mouth slack and my lips still as I sank into the firm, enveloping body around me. I would let him have this one. Just this once.

Silence stretched long into the eternal night as I stared through the shifting darkness at Lamb’s large hands encasing my own. I shifted out of his grip, freeing my hands so they could toy with his. I traced each of his long fingers, following the grooves of his palm and the hills of his knuckles. I pressed my palm into his pliant ones, amazed at how much longer his hands were than mine. I threaded our fingers together, the tips of my own touching the rough scabs of his knuckles, the remnants of his fight with Wolf. A fight I had no answers for, nor the belief I would get any.

If I had fallen asleep throughout the night, I would not have known as each phase of the night bled into the next until the darkness receded.

Golden sunlight crested on the horizon, and flaxen light trickled into the room. Birdsong picked up in the forest beyond the clubhouse grounds and early riser vehicles hummed in the distance.

I had forgotten to close the curtains last night, and the tide of morning soon washed across the bed and warmed my face.

Lamb stirred behind me, having not moved a single muscle the entire night. He shifted with wakefulness, his hands tightening around our interlocked palms as he nuzzled his head into my back. “You’re awake,” he grumbled, voice rough and thick.

I hummed back at him.

Lamb sighed. “You didn’t sleep.”

It was not a question; merely an observation, one I could not refute.

I began to play with Lamb’s hand once again, and despite not being as limp as when Lamb had slept, he kept them relaxed, bending them to my puppeteering motions. “Lamb …”

Lamb murmured something in response, but it was smothered between my back and the bedsheets.

“Lamb.”

Another mumble.

I turned, jostling Lamb from his hole as he lifted his head to accommodate my invading shoulder. His eyes remained pinched closed against the dawning light as he propped his chin up onto a free hand that had snaked away from under my head.

I rested my palms against his face, his skin warm to the cool touch of my fingers. “Lamb.”

“I like it when you call me like that,” he grumbled, a weak, sleepy smile pulling on his lips.

“How did you get your road name?”

Lamb smiled, warm brown eyes opening, sunlight glimmering in their depths. “You curious?” he purred. “About me?”

“You know everything about me, but …” I trailed into silence, not liking how pathetic and whiney it sounded.

His smile grew between my palms. “I wouldn’t sayeverything,” Lamb amended. “But I do know a lot.”

“I think we should be on even ground,” I said. “Know thy enemy and all.”

“I hadn’t labelled us as enemies.” Lamb ground his hips into my arse, and the whole length of his hard shaft agreed with him. “In fact, I thinkallies aremore appropriate.”

I scoffed.

“But,” Lamb said, “I can see how that would make you jealous.”

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