Page 33 of Fenrir

She squeezed his hand under the table. “I’m good. Really. The food was amazing, and I’ve had my fill.”

He searched her face as if looking for something.

“Fen, if I was hungry, I’d eat more.”

Seemingly satisfied with her answer, he returned to the plate of food he’d barely touched.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked.

Fenrir nodded. “I am but… I’d prefer to eat in private tonight.”

Grace’s gut clenched. He’d been so alone, so isolated, for far too long.

“Well, why don’t we leave then?” she suggested.

He looked at her.

“If you’re hungry and you don’t feel comfortable, we should go. I wish you’d said something earlier. Now I feel bad for eating so much when you were suffering.”

He shook his head. “I liked seeing you eat.”

Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Really?”

He nodded. “I liked that I could bring you here and feed you, even if it was food provided by someone else.”

At that moment, she wanted to take Fenrir back to her bedroom and feed him by hand. To slide small amounts of meat into his mouth and watch as he savored every bite. To share dessert with him. To even drip hot fudge sauce down his rigid torso and lick it off inch by inch.

“Are you okay?” Fenrir asked, breaking through her fantasy.

Grace coughed, and her cheeks flushed. What the hell was getting into her? They were a family gathering.

“Yes,” she said hoarsely.

Fenrir’s gaze raked her face, and something inside tugged at her. Warmth flooded her core, and a slight pulsation started at her most sensitive spot. Fenrir’s eyebrows drew together as he sniffed the air.

The urge to tackle him and kiss him right there almost overtook her. Fenrir moved closer to her, inhaling deeply.

Grace couldn’t help the small sound that emanated from her throat at his nearness. His eyes brightened, and he moved closer still. His hand slid into her lap and rested between her thighs.

Grace swallowed hard, holding back a moan of pleasure as the small pulses in her core grew steadily stronger.

“What’s happening?” she whispered.

Fenrir shook his head but never took his eyes from hers.

She gripped his hand and slowly pushed it higher. She needed him to touch her. Needed to feel him touch her. To relieve whatever was building inside her. What he was making build inside her.

Fenrir’s hand tensed, and his eyes flashed as she slid his hand even higher. His large fingers sat just at the juncture of her thigh. He watched her with an intensity she’d never seen. A low growl built in his chest, and he softly moved one finger to the apex between her thighs. The contact of his finger on the fabric there almost sent her bolting out of her chair. She gripped his hand, and he softly swirled his finger against the material again.

Grace bit her lip so hard she drew blood. Her core pulsed harder. Wanting him. Needing him.

He took his thumb and wiped the tiny drop of blood from her lip before looking at it and then sucking it into his mouth.

Grace’s restraint broke at the sight. “We should go,” she whispered.

Fenrir nodded and stood. He gripped her hand so tight she feared he might break it. Together they started for the exit, her mind fogged with need, her body humming with desire.

“Fenrir?” Val questioned. “Where are you going?”

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