Page 32 of Moonlight's Mate
“I mind what almost happened to you because of them.” She settled her hands on his hips, her thumbs brushing the twist of scars. “And you know perfectly well how sexy you are.”
“You can have me this way anytime you ask.” He lifted them both into the shower.
“I’m asking.”
“Coming right up then.”
He did, too, kissing her under the stream of water until she was gasping, then perfectly angling into her with his body slick with water, hers wet with wanting him.
He held her easily, one hand under her ass and the other against the wall, his cock stretching and stroking her core. She clutched at his shoulders, tightening her fingers on the muscle as if she could claim that power.
Like the morning, her orgasm came faster than she wanted. She struggled to hold back, but he felt so good, so right, inside her.
“Stop fighting it,” he whispered against her hair. “Stop fighting me.”
The soft, fierce command made her come, her inner muscles tightening around him while waves of pleasure spread outward.
He threw back his head, and the groan wrenching through him seemed dredged from the very root of his cock, so deep was the sound. It vibrated her bones, and she climaxed again as he surged inside her.
Even his strong arms were trembling by the time they caught their breath and he eased out of her. He let her slide carefully down the wall.
She locked her knees, embarrassed at the urge to keep sliding into a limp puddle at his feet.
Before the water could wash the last evidence from her skin, he lifted her out of the shower and wrapped her in a towel. He knelt to dry her legs.
“I can do that,” she muttered.
“But why, when I am here?” He leaned forward to nuzzle her pubic hair, sending a shiver through her despite the buffed warmth of her skin. “It’s just good leadership to delegate.”
His hands were better, gentler than her own rough efficiency, both soothing and exciting. He even lifted her feet, one at a time, the press of his fingers through the fabric making her toes curl at the almost tickle.
She touched his bent head, the tousled locks so like the coarse silk of his wolf pelt. “How can you do that?”
“The miracle of good towels? I refused to believe the hype about high thread count linens, but it’s amazing, isn’t it?” He leered up at her, white teeth flashing in the gloom. “You should check out my sheets.”
She almost let the moment slip away; finding the words was harder than the first time she’d gone hunting field mice in thatch. But somehow she knew she had to keep digging. “I meant, how do you kneel without feeling…small?”
When he looked up again, his gaze was serious. “It doesn’t change who I am. Or what I am.” He stood with an easy swiftness that made her breath catch. “And it doesn’t change you.”
“But—”
“We’re not all-powerful, babe.” He caught her hand against his scarred belly. “Don’t learn that like I did: the hard way. You’re clever enough and strong enough to know when you don’t have to do it all yourself.”
The thought of not being alone was so tempting, her fingers clenched with wanting it, wanting him. She closed her eyes tight to squeeze away a suspicious stinging and boosted herself up to kiss him.
He took it like his due, which once upon a time would have made her livid, but somehow the hot water and his touch—not to mention the orgasms—seemed to have smoothed away her ire.
“We only have a few hours,” he said when she slid down. “Let’s make the most of it.”
She thought that meant something dirty, now that they were all clean, but when he carried her to the bed and pulled back the navy flannel sheets, he laid her down and only pulled her into the curve of his arm, her head cushioned on his shoulder.
She lay stiffly against him for a heartbeat. “And?”
He kissed her forehead. “Put your thigh over mine.”
“What?”
“It’s called snuggling.”
