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Hewit lowers his head, and his mouth moves from my lips to my jaw. My neck.

His body locks. I feel it before I understand—the sudden stillness, the way his cock throbs hard inside me, the hot brush of his breath against the side of my throat.

Then I feel the faintest scrape of teeth.

Hewit jerks his head away from my neck, his eyes wild. He buries his face against my shoulder instead, every muscle in his body rigid, hips still pressed flush against mine. A low, continuous growl vibrates through his chest.

I run my hand slowly down his back, feeling the tremors running through him. “It’s okay.”

His breathing is harsh against my skin. “I barely stopped myself.”

“But you stopped.”

His forehead presses harder against my shoulder. “I wanted to. Fuck, Nora—I wanted to mark you so badly I could taste it.”

I understand what that admission costs him.

“I know.” I turn my face and kiss his temple. “But I trust you, Hewit. I love having you inside me. Nothing has ever felt this right.”

His body goes still for a long moment before he lifts his head, his eyes pure amber. “You trust me?”

“Yes.”

His expression tightens, almost pained. “Even now?”

I cup his cheek. “Especially now.”

He stares at me for a beat, then lowers his forehead to mine. “That might be the most dangerous thing you’ve said all night.”

I slide my hands into his hair and pull him down so our mouths are almost touching. “You don’t scare me, wolfman.”

His eyes search mine. “I don’t, do I? Not even from the start.”

“Not once.” I smile faintly. “Coming here because some ridiculous part of me thought my whole life was waiting for me did. Then I met you, and it suddenly didn’t feel ridiculous anymore.”

Hewit goes very still. His gaze moves over my face as if he’s trying to decide whether he’s allowed to believe me. Then his eyes soften, and he kisses me again, harder this time, almost desperately.

His hand slides between us, finding my clit with the same devastating precision as before. My hips jerk into his touch, and he groans against my mouth.

“There?”

“Yes.”

He keeps the pressure steady as he moves again, slowly at first, letting me feel every deep drag of him. The lingering sensitivity from my first orgasm turns each stroke sharper, hotter, until I’m no longer thinking about the ache or the unfamiliar stretch. There’s only Hewit inside me, his fingers working me in time with his hips, and the pleasure gathering again.

I clutch his shoulders. “Hewit.”

“I’ve got you.”

His rhythm changes, deeper and faster now. The wet sound of our bodies meeting is filthy and perfect. The tension coils tighter until my thighs shake around him.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Let me watch.”

This time I know exactly what’s coming.

I meet his next thrust, and the pleasure breaks through me with his name on my lips, my body clenching hard around him.

Hewit follows soon after, burying his face against the curve of my shoulder as he breaks, my name rough and broken against my skin.