Her hand is still on my chest, stroking slowly now, and the simple intimacy of it makes my throat tight. She looks at me like she’s trying to understand what she started.
I tilt my chin. “You trying to start the fire again, angel?”
Her lips part in surprise. Then a shy smile flickers, quick and uncertain, like she doesn’t trust it. “I…” She swallows. “Maybe.”
My body reacts instantly. Heat surges low. My arm tightens around her.
Then she makes a face, small and embarrassed. “But you’re too big.”
I still.
Her cheeks go bright red. “And I’m sore. A little.”
Something in me softens, the possessive hunger stepping back to make room for care. I slide my hand to her hip, rubbing slow. “You tell me what you want.”
Her lashes flutter. “I want…” She bites her lip. “I want you. Just… not like that.”
My jaw flexes. Desire still burns, but control is something I’m good at. “Okay,” I say, low. “We do it your way.”
Her eyes lift to mine, searching. “You won’t be mad?”
I let out a quiet breath. “Angel, I’m not mad at you for listening to your body.”
Relief floods her face, and it does something ugly and protective to me. Like I want to hunt every person who ever made her feel wrong for being careful.
I kiss her once, slow and gentle.
Then I slide down the bed. Her eyes widen. “Wolf…”
I hook her thigh over mine and pull her closer. “You said you’re sore,” I murmur against her skin. “So I’m not stretching you. I’m taking care of you.”
Her breath catches. “You don’t have to.”
“I do,” I say, and the words come out rougher than I intend. “I want to.”
I pause long enough to look up at her, to make sure she’s still here with me. Her nod is small. Trusting. That trust makes my chest ache.
I slide my hands up her thighs, slow, feeling the warmth and softness. She tenses for half a second, then relaxes when she realizes I’m not rushing.
I kiss her belly, and she makes a small sound, surprised. I smile against her skin. “Yeah. You’re gonna learn.”
Her thighs tense again when my mouth moves lower, and I pause, looking up. “Still with me,” I ask.
“Yes,” she whispers.
I hook my hands under her thighs and spread her gently. No forcing. Just giving her space and time to breathe. Her cheeks burn. She looks away, embarrassed.
I lift my gaze. “Eyes on me, angel.”
She obeys.
I tug her a little closer to the edge of the bed and kiss the inside of her thigh, slow. Then another kiss, higher. I feel her shiver. Her hand grips the sheet. Her breathing turns shallow.
I kiss her again, then press my mouth against her, a warm, firm kiss that makes her gasp. The sound goes straight through me.
I keep my touch steady, like I’m proving something. I’m not here to take. I’m here to give.
I lick slowly, and her whole body jolts. Her hand flies to my hair, fingers tangling. I groan softly, encouraging her.
