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Did he realize the bond he was forming with her? Did he know? Did he feel it too?
He lifted her hand to his jaw and dragged her fingertips down the whiskers, to his jawline, to his throat. Then he pulled her hand down over his heart and pressed it there.
He said a thousand words with his eyes in the silence of the room.
“That’s mine, isn’t it?” she whispered, hand pressed over that drumming heart.
He nodded once.
She pulled his hand to her chest and pressed it over her left breast.
“That’s mine,” he said. He didn’t ask the question part of that. He declared it. He knew already.
She nodded, on the off chance that he needed confirmation—not that a confident man such as him would need that.
Garret dragged her knuckles to his lips, eyes on her, always on her. He pressed a gentle kiss there, and then wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer, and rested his chin on top of her head.
Oh, she could feel his readiness. Only the thin fabric of his trousers and her shift separated their intimate skin, but she could feel how hard he was. He didn’t push for more though.
He seemed content to just hold her, and the parts of her heart that had softened toward him rejoiced.
The muscles in her body relaxed little by little, until she could compare his embrace to a tall glass of whiskey. He gave her that happy buzz with only touch.
That was magic, to a woman like her who had never truly believed in the romance of love.
He massaged gentle circles against her back. She relaxed more, and became drowsy between his fingertips and the whiskey.
“I feel safe,” she murmured softly. It was easy to speak her feelings after a couple of stout whiskey drinks, and when she was so bone-deep exhausted.
A rattling sound emanated from him, but it wasn’t his usual growl. Sounded more like the satisfied purr of a giant cat.
“I feel safe with the wolf, too,” she said with a drowsy smile on her lips.
She didn’t understand the moan that emanated from him, or the deep sigh he heaved as he pulled her even closer, but she thought his wolf enjoyed being seen too.
For her, she wished for acceptance too.
“I can be gentle,” he murmured. “I think tonight I can be gentle with you.”
Her nerves kicked up, because she didn’t know what he meant. What was gentle and not gentle? “I trust you,” she murmured. Please take care of me.
After a moment of drinking in her gaze, he rolled and took her with him, laid her back against the mattress. He kissed her deeply, tasting her with his tongue, then rucked her shift up, up, until he peeled it from her arms and she had nothing on.
Not a stitch.
Not an inch of fabric to cover her.
She laid there, bare, and closed her eyes, swallowed hard.
“No,” he rumbled. “You’ll watch my face as I enjoy you.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at him as he slid his knees under her thighs and massaged her breast. She couldn’t mistake the hunger in his eyes as he rolled his hips against her.
Garret was so smooth as he removed his clothing, and she drank him in.
Never in her life had she even imagined a man could look this strong, and savage, and powerful. His skin was laced with scars, and his muscles were defined. He was a big, powerful man, hovering over her as he pressed his swollen cock between her legs.
Whatever she’d talked about with her friends as a young woman, this was different than they had said.
