Page 75 of A Wolf of War
She felt the same way about his knot.
Her thoughts were spiraling, tangled up in places she didn’t dare go, when Milo cleared his throat. A sharp cough, like he knew exactly where her mind had wandered and wanted to yank her back before she twisted herself up any further.
“You hungry?” he asked casually, his voice threaded with amusement, like he wasn’t really asking at all. “Because I know the kittens are. They’re going to start crying soon.”
Willow blinked, grateful for the interruption.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he pushed off the bed and offered her a hand. “Come on, then. Let’s feed your little mistakes before they tear the place apart.”
Willow gasped and threw a pillow at him.
“Milo!”
***
The morning had driftedinto something soft and slow, the rising heat making them both feel lazy. Breakfast had been messy—kittens darting underfoot, Milo teasing her about the way she burned the toast—but now the chaos had faded into this, quiet, easy stillness.
She lay curled against him in the hammock, his arm heavy around her shoulders, her cheek resting on the solid expanse of his chest. The hammock rocked gently with each lazy push of his foot against the grass, swaying them back and forth like the world had slowed just for them.
It was too comfortable. Willow told herself not to sink into it, not to let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear trick her into believing this was normal. Therewasa normal life she wanted to return to, when the danger was over, maybe…
And yet.
His hand stroked idly along her arm, fingertips brushing over her skin with absent reverence, like touching her was as natural as breathing. He didn’t speak, didn’t fill the silence with heavy words or questions, and that silence did more damage to her defenses than any charm or charisma could. Because she realized she didn’t need him to make those extravagant promisesright now. She just needed him.
Willow’s throat tightened. She shouldn’t feel safe. She shouldn’t feel cherished. But with Milo’s warmth wrapped around her, the kittens watching from the slider, and the hammock rocking them in time with the breeze—she almost forgot to be afraid.
Almost.
“Careful,” he murmured eventually, his voice a low rumble vibrating through his chest. “If you keep looking at me like that, you’ll never look at a hammock the same way again.”
Her lips twitched, betraying her even as her heart tried to crawl into her throat. “I wasn’t looking at you any sort of way,” she sniffed, turning her nose up at him.
His chuckle was deep, dangerous, and unbearably fond. The kind of sound that made her wonder—terrifyingly, traitorously—what it would be like to hear it for the rest of her life.
Milo leaned his head toward hers, whispering into her ear, “I’m beginning to think that your first punishment isn’t going to be given over my knee.”
She flushed, eyes widening.
“Instead, Willow, I think you’ll have to choke on my cock until I come down your throat so you can learn to betterwatch your mouth.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, and the sound that escaped her throat was small, fragile—something she didn’t even know she was capable of making. Milo’s laugh followed, low and rich. He pulled her closer, his strength swallowing her whole. She didn’t want him to see it—the ache, the hunger, the way she craved him not gently, but brutally.
Violent.
Overpowering.
Dominating.
She no longer pined for candlelight under the stars. Not since meeting him. No, Willow wanted to betakenunder a swollen moon.
Although, it did strike her as funny that he had, in fact, taken her already under the full moon, and her reaction had been less than thrilled.
As though he’d reached into her head and plucked the thought straight from her brain, Milo dipped his face to her hair, his lips brushing the crown of her head.
“Sweetheart,” he rumbled, voice carrying that dangerous tenderness that both soothed and inflamed, “we’ve got plenty of time to explore all of the ways in which we’re sexually compatible. But right now…” His mouth lingered against her temple, a phantom kiss. “Right now, I want us ready for the full moon.”
She satwith it for a long moment, turning the words over in her head, trying to piece together a clearer picture. Her throat worked, but her voice came out soft, almost hesitant.
