I smile against his back. “You were leaving without a kiss.”
His low laugh rumbles through him. “Was I?”
He turns slowly, like he wants me to watch every inch of it. His hands land on my waist, warm and firm, and he lifts me ontothe counter like it’s nothing. Like I’m something he’s allowed to have.
I wrap my legs around his hips without thinking.
His eyes darken.
“You sure you want to start this?” he asks, quiet.
Two years in, he still checks.
I nod. “Yes.”
His mouth finds mine, and the kiss is slow at first, deepening until my breath turns uneven. His ring brushes my skin as his hand slides up my side, and I shiver at the familiar pressure, the possessive steadiness of him.
He breaks the kiss just enough to speak against my lips.
“You’re looking at me like you want trouble,” he murmurs.
My cheeks heat. “I’m married to trouble.”
That gets me a real smile. Quick. Dangerous.
Then he kisses me again, harder, and his hand cups the back of my neck, holding me in place like he’s done pretending he can behave.
My fingers slide into his hair. I tug lightly.
He groans, low and rough, and it goes straight through me.
“Wolf,” I breathe.
He kisses my jaw, then the side of my throat, mouth warm against my skin. His other hand settles on my thigh, thumb stroking slowly, making me squirm on the counter.
He lifts his head, eyes locked on mine.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
I swallow, pulse hammering. I don’t pretend to be shy with him anymore. He burned that out of me. He taught me to take up space.
“You,” I whisper. “Right now.”
His jaw flexes. His grip tightens, and he presses closer until I feel how much he wants me.
He leans in and kisses me again, slow and punishing in the best way, as if he’s going to make me say it twice. His hand slides along my thigh and the heat in me sharpens, bright and demanding.
I make a small sound, and his mouth curves against mine like he likes hearing it.
“Angel,” he breathes, “we’re going to make a mess on my counter.”
I bite my lip, meeting his gaze. "Then make a mess."
His eyes flash with heat, and he doesn't waste time. His mouth crashes back to mine, tongue thrusting deep, claiming every inch.
I kiss him back just as fierce, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt.
One hand fists the hem of my shirt, loose and oversized, barely skimming my thighs. He yanks it up, exposing my bare pussy to the cool kitchen air. His fingers trace the slick folds slowly, parting me until I gasp into his mouth.
