“I’m the alpha.”
That’s what I said to him, mainly just to see if he’d balk at the idea of giving up some of his power. But Roderick gave me his neck.
And right now, in my cozy, delicious smelling kitchen, while fiddling with my favorite pastime, I’m in the perfect mind frame to exert some dominance.
“Roderick?”
He grunts.
I smile.
“Do you ever think about me when you touch yourself?”
The cutting board clatters into the sink, the wolf’s strong back stiffening. Slowly, he turns to face me, and … there they are.
Black eyes.
My next breath is a gasp, sucked in through my nose as my adrenaline kicks in. Roderick lowers his lids, likely picking up on my automatic reaction.
“No.” The word comes out harsher than I intended, but it gets his gaze back on me. “I want to see your eyes.” I swallow. “They are part of you, and I want to get used to them.”
Roderick hesitates, and then he nods, staring at me all the while.
“Are you going to answer?” My voice is breathy.
A slow nod. “Every night in bed. It’s you. Every morning in the shower. It’s you.” He rubs his fingers over his stern mouth. “Can barely make it through the day.”
Anticipation and arousal begin to eclipse my fear. And the homey smell of apple pie keeps me level with comfort.
“Kiss me,” I command.
He lets go of the counter I didn’t realize he was gripping, strides across the kitchen, and drops to his knees beside my chair. Roderick palms my thighs, guiding them open so he can settle between them, and draws my face to his.
I expect his kiss to be a bruising collide with how he charged toward me, but Roderick doesn’t hit me like a lusty battering ram. His mouth coaxes mine, his lips tasting of the fruit and cinnamon filling he sampled while baking. Roderick’s fingers grip the back of my neck to keep me in place. The possessive gesture has me shivering, but there’s no sensation of being trapped.
My hands rest on his shoulders, then slide upward. When I drag my nails over the shorn hair on his scalp, I earn a groan from his thick throat, and as his mouth opens, I dip my tongue in to sample more of his flavor.
The experience is pure self-indulgence.
Heat builds between our bodies, easing every part of me that touches him, even the places I didn’t realize were tense. I scoot forward on my seat, plastering myself against him, needy and starved for affection that isn’t mixed with fear.
Roderick kisses me thoroughly, experimenting with angles and pressure, drawing whimpers from my lips that he meets with grunts.
“So good,” he mutters when our mouths part so I can gasp in a breath. “Pretty little librarian.” He kisses my jaw, then my neck, his exhale hot against my skin. “Smell so good. Gods,” he groans and licks my neck. “Fuck. You taste delicious.”
I let out a high-pitched giggle. “You’re very Big Bad Wolf right now.”
Roderick kisses his way back up to my mouth, then pulls back, gaze finding mine.
Black eyes.
I flinch.
He sighs, the sound hinting at disappointment, and closes his eyes. My arousal trickles away as I brace for his condemnation. But Roderick keeps his eyes closed and rests his forehead against mine.
Just as I start to relax, Roderick scoops me into his arms and steals my seat as he cradles me in his lap. His nose rests on my collarbone, and he breathes me in like I’m oxygen.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a quiver of uncertainty in my question.
