Page 185 of Primal

Not until she gives in.

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip. Another squeeze—just shy of painful.

“Good answer.” My grin’s feral.

For the first time tonight, she looks at me like maybe we’ve both done something right.

“Should you even be doing this? I mean—aren’t you still, like … recovering?”

I bark out a laugh. “I’d fuck you with a bullet still in me.”

She smacks my chest. “Not funny.”

I grind against her. She rolls her hips, and I damn near lose it. Can’t breathe without her. Can’t think beyond what I’d give to have her again—

One more night. One more chance.

She arches—enough to slide my shirt up.

I can’t move without ripping away from her.

So I let her take it. My shirt. The space. Every inch of me.

Her skin’s soft and warm. Mine’s buzzing. And fuck—how goddamn close I came to never feeling her like this again.

She drags her fingers down the center of my chest.

Thumb brushing over the raised scar on my shoulder, the one near my ribs, that jagged slice along my hip.

I stay still.

If this is all I get, I’ll fucking take it.

But my little fox wants something else, too. The one thing I never gave her.

Control.

She touches me like she owns me—fingertips skimming everywhere.

Then she squeezes my cock again. Harder this time. Testing.

I hiss and surge against her. A few more strokes, her breath shaky in my ear, and I lose it.

I snatch her wrists. Pin her against the wall. My mouth slams against hers—capturing her gasp.

She squirms. Grips my shoulders.

My hands slip to her waist. I pull her flush against me, palming the curve of her ass.

Pink spreads from her neck to her cheeks to her fucking perfect tits. She parts her legs without a word.

I lift her. Shove her down hard against the thick line of my cock.

Her thighs clamp around me.

I rut up into her—dry-humping her like some fucking teenager.

She moans. Bites down on my lip so hard it stings.