To read.
His strong hands, which so expertly dug into rocky crevices a moment ago, now cradle a paperback. With his chin tilting downward and eyes focused on the page, it’s as if the world around him ceases to exist.
Which means I get to gawk at him without being disturbed.
Roderick is just as sexy reading as I imagined. His bent arms cause a subtle flex in his biceps while a muscle along his neck tenses to hold his head in place.
I’m going to need to lose a few pieces of clothing to deal with this smoldering view.
The thought inspires an idea.
“How good is your hearing?” I ask.
The werewolf glances up at me, closing the book on his thumb to hold his place. “With it quiet like this, I can hear a herd of deer grazing about a mile north of us.”
I glance around at what seems like our private outdoors getaway. “So, you’re saying you’d be able to tell me if any other hikers were approaching us?”
He nods.
“Are there?”
Headshake.
“We’re alone?”
Nod.
“Good.” I clap my hands together, decided. “Get your ass on the grass. I’m not sure how much longer I can stand not having you inside me.”
Roderick stares at me for a second, then tosses the book to the side and drops down to comply. Following my commands, like he agreed he would.
Good werewolf.
After toeing off my shoes, I reach for my waistband. The wind pushes cool air against my skin that has me shivering as I shuck off my leggings, but I don’t care. Who needs to worry about the cold when they’re about to have a furnace of a mythical creature between their legs?
Roderick watches me, eyes darkening with a hungry lust. The sight still brings on an anxious twinge, but I think being with Roderick is almost like desensitization therapy. Slowly but surely, I am associating black eyes with pleasure instead of pain.
I’m not healed from my past, but some wounds are scarring over. Making me stronger than I was before.
Standing ass out midday on the shores of a mountain lake is also a weird sort of invigorating. Especially when my companiondoesn’t look at me like I’m Winnie-the-Pooh, but rather a jar of honey he wants to lick.
Another shiver shakes my body, but I’m not sure it’s the wind this time. Either way, I hurry over, then settle myself into Roderick’s lap.
A happy hum sneaks out of my chest at the immediate temperature change.
I might as well be straddling a radiator. His warmth presses against my center, along with a hard ridge under his hiking pants. Before I can reach between us to do something about that, my werewolf shoves a curious set of hands under my shirt, pushing the fabric up, along with the elastic of my sports bra.
The chill of the day touches my nipples only long enough to pucker them. Then they’re being soothed by his tongue and rough palm.
I gasp, rocking my hips and clutching the back of his neck.
Pleasure streaks through me at every suck of his lips and pinch of his fingers. There must be direct communication between the sensitive peaks and my clit because I already feel a rising tide of pleasure between my legs.
And then—oh gods—the noises Roderick makes. Every shift of my hips or drag of my nails earns me a growl. Another item I can check off my list as reclaimed. The animalistic sounds should terrify me, but these are so clearly Roderick’s that I can’t even pretend to think he sounds anything like my ex.
His teeth give my nipple a gentle bite, and I almost come. Just from that.
But I want him inside me when the orgasm hits. Feeling myself clench around him makes the pleasure go on longer, hit stronger.
