Page 53
“You’re staring.”
“You smelled how wet I was the other day. I think we abandoned subtlety a while ago.”
His laugh is low and rough. “Fair.”
I step closer and touch him through the fabric. He’s thick, hot, already leaking enough that the cotton is damp. Hewit inhales sharply when I stroke his length, my fingers barely able to wrap around him. His reaction gives me courage, and I stroke him again, firmer.
His hand closes around my wrist, but he doesn’t move me away. “Careful.”
I look at him. “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
“Then why careful?”
His eyes meet mine, almost glowing. “Because I’m trying very hard not to put you on that bed and forget every good intention I’ve had in the last hour.”
My stomach flips hard. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
I slide my hand free and climb onto the bed, lying back and watching him. “Problem solved.”
Hewit stares at me, his eyes darkening, like I’m offering him something sacred and filthy at the same time. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
I grin. “None whatsoever. But I want to learn. With you.”
“Jesus.” He swipes a hand over his mouth, his eyes roaming my body.
The mattress dips beneath his weight. For one moment, the sheer size of him over me makes my pulse stutter—broad shoulders blocking out the room, white hair falling forward, the heavy weight of his cock pressing against my thigh through the thin barrier of his briefs.
Hewit feels me tense and stops instantly.
I cup his face. “Not fear. Nerves. Different.”
He searches my eyes and nods, settling beside me rather than over me. Lifting my hand, he intertwines our fingers and kisses my palm. That sweet gesture does more to calm me than anything he could have said.
His hand moves down my stomach, slow and deliberate. I tense when he reaches the waistband of my underwear, and he pauses.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
He slides his fingers beneath the fabric. The first touch makes me gasp. I’m slick against his fingertips. The second stroke makes my hips lift helplessly.
Hewit’s breathing turns rougher. “So wet.”
I cover my face with one hand. “Oh God.”
He catches my wrist and pulls my hand away, pinning it gently to the pillow. “Don’t. I want to see you.”
“I’m reconsidering the whole wolf-senses thing.”
He smirks. “I’m not.”
His fingers move again, circling my clit with devastating precision. I lose the ability to answer. Heat coils tight and fast. When one thick finger presses inside me, I jerk at the unfamiliar stretch.
He stops immediately. “Okay?”
