Page 67 of Hunting Grounds
He laughed and grabbed a towel to wrap me up. “Oh, I’m just getting started, witch. You took your nap this afternoon, so I fully expect to keep you up all night.”
“Right,” I said, and squealed as he swatted my ass the moment I got within reach. “Celebrating.”
“You’re damn right.” Henry stalked after me, still naked and dripping water all over the carpet. He wrapped me up in a bear hug and lifted me off the floor, nosing into where the towel folded over my breasts. “We have a lot to celebrate. Tonight won’t be long enough to do it all.”
I looked down at him and kissed the tip of his nose. “But you’re going to try, right?”
His hands squeezed my ass and he dropped me on the bed, looking down at me with an intensity that made my stomach clench and my toes curl. He grinned and leaned down to pull at the towel. “Bet your sweet ass I am.”
And then he pounced.
Lips and hands and tongues and legs and skin. It was like I forgot where he stopped and I began, or where I stopped and he began. There wasn’t time or space to think about anything but that moment—being with him. Being with Henry. Being his and him being mine. If that was what being a mate was, I was all in.
And he was right. We’d won the day at least, and it was a hell of a way to celebrate. No doubt there would be more battles in our future, but hopefully none of them had sorcerers on the other side. Wherever Rocko ended up, we would deal with him when the time came. I held onto Henry as he moved me to my knees on the bed and reared up behind me, and I moaned as his hands dragged my hips back against him. We had a lot to celebrate, and if I had my way, we’d spend the rest of our lives doing exactly that, no matter what life threw our way. We could conquer anything together. And we would.
