Page 71 of A Wolf of War
Her lips brushed his. Soft, tentative. A question.
Milo went still for a heartbeat, and then he answered, his mouth pressing back with quiet certainty. The kiss deepened slowly, like he was afraid she’d spook if he moved too fast. But she didn’t pull away. She leaned into it, heat blooming low in her belly.
When one of the kittens gave a disgruntled little mewl, they broke off just long enough for Milo to scoopthe pair of them gently from the bed and set them on the floor.
And then his mouth was on hers again, no hesitation this time.
The kiss was hungrier now, her hands fisting in his shirt as he pulled her closer, closer, until she felt like she was being melded into him. Willow gasped into his mouth, her heart hammering as his hand slid along her jaw, tilting her head to take more of him. She knew she should stop. She knew this was spiraling quickly. But the truth was, she didn’t want to stop. Not when every nerve in her body was alight, not when the bond between them glowed so brilliantly, it felt like her body had become luminous under his hands.
Milo’s mouth claimed hers again after a short break to breathe—deeper this time, his hand anchoring her jaw as though he could keep her from slipping away. She yielded, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer again until their chests brushed, until the air between them was filled with their heat.
He shifted, the mattress dipping as he braced a hand beside her head. With careful, deliberate movement, he guided her back against the pillows. The world seemed to narrow to the heat of his body pressing over hers, hisweight caging her in without crushing.
Willow’s pulse stuttered. She should have felt trapped. Pinned. And she did…
But she liked it. Every inch of her ached with a longing she didn’t know how to fight.
Milo hovered just above her, their lips still brushing, their breath mingling. His eyes searched hers—dark,burning, yet holding that thread of restraint, as though he was daring her to tell him no.
She didn’t.
Instead, she arched up so she could grind into him, closing the distance, her mouth finding his again with a hunger that startled even her. He groaned low in his chest, the sound vibrating through her as his hand slid from her jaw to cradle the side of her throat, his thumb stroking once across her skin.
Slow. Controlled. Every movement a battle between what they both wanted and the fragile line they teetered on. Her pussy was pounding with desire at his nearness. She didn’t care anymore. She needed him.
Willow’s hands roamed higher, slipping over his shoulders, feeling the strength coiled beneath the fabric of his shirt. She clung to him, anchoring herself as if letting go would undo her completely.
He broke the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against hers, his breath unsteady. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Willow.”
Her chest rose and fell against his, her lips swollen from his kisses, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Milo, please. Don’t stop.”
His weight hovered over her, lips coaxing hers open, drawing out every soft sound she was willing to give him. His hand slid down, skimming the side of her body, pausing at her hip, asking for permission. Willow’s breath hitched, and instead of pulling back, she lifted her arms, fingers tangling in his hair, wordlessly giving him her answer.
He moved slowly, deliberately, as if each motion was sacred. His mouth broke from hers, trailing down. Heat followed everywhere he touched, each kiss branding her until she felt fevered.
The air was cool against her bare skin with his hot breath wafting across it, her chest rising and falling too fast. Milo’s gaze darkened, reverent as it swept over her, but he didn’t rush. He leaned down, flicking his tongue against the pebbled peak of her breast, pleasure spreading warm and solid across her chest,anchoring her against the maelstrom inside.
Willow arched into him, a small, desperate sound catching in her throat. His mouth continued its assault, and she shivered at the tenderness in his licking, sucking, nibbling. There was no cruelty here, no dominance wielded like a weapon. Just him, stripped down to the bone, showing her what it meant to be claimed without force.
Her hands clung to him, nails dragging over his back, urging him closer. The bond was undeniable now, pulling her under, telling her this was where she belonged.
With him.
Under him.
Always.
When his hand finally slid lower, settling over the heat between her tensing thighs, she gasped, anticipation knitting tight in her belly. He kissed her again, slow and consuming, as though he could steady her with his mouth alone.
And Willow let herself fall into it, into him—into the dangerous, undeniable truth that she wanted him, too.
He broke from her mouth only to trail kisses lower, down her throat, over the hollow of her collarbone, each one setting her nerves alight. By the time he pulled the last ofher clothes away, Willow was trembling beneath him, her body bare and flushed, her breath coming too fast.
For a moment, he just looked at her. His expression was dark, awestruck, like she was something of impossible value he wasn’t sure he deserved. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, the words rasping low as his mouth descended again.
She gasped as he trailed kisses along her belly, pressing them to her thighs, settling between her legs with a hunger in his eyes that terrified as much as it thrilled. Hot air ghosted across her wet slit, his hands steady on her hips.
“Tell me you want this.”
