“I need you,” I whisper.
A rough sound leaves him.
Wolf shifts again, reaching down to push my underwear down my thighs. He does it slowly, eyes never leaving mine, like he’s asking without words if I’m still with him.
I nod, breathless.
He tosses the underwear aside and then looks at me like he’s memorizing me. Like he’s furious at a world that ever made me feel less than perfect.
His fingers slide between my legs, just a touch, checking, and I gasp at the intimacy.
“You’re ready,” he murmurs, satisfaction and reverence mixed together.
My face burns. “I…”
“You did good,” he says, and there’s pride in it that makes my chest ache.
Then he frees himself, and the sight of him makes my breath catch hard.
He’s big. Thick. Hard.
Fear spikes again, hot and sharp.
Wolf sees it instantly.
He comes back over me, kisses my mouth slow, then rests his forehead against mine.
“Talk to me.”
I swallow. “I’m scared it’s going to hurt.”
His hand cups my face. “I’ll be careful.”
“And if it does,” he adds, voice rougher, “you tell me. I stop. I don’t care if it kills me.”
My throat tightens. “Okay.”
Wolf kisses me once more, then positions himself between my thighs. He lifts my legs, settling them around his hips, and the possessive fit of it makes my stomach flip.
He lines himself up, and my breath catches.
“Look at me,” he says.
I do.
He pushes in slowly.
The stretch is intense, sharp at first, and I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.
Wolf freezes instantly.
“Too much,” he asks, voice tight.
I pant, trying to breathe through it. “Just… wait.”
Wolf doesn’t move. He stays still, eyes locked on mine, one hand at my waist, the other braced beside my head.
“You tell me,” he says, rough.
