A low rumbling sound vibrated through his chest, and she realized with a start that he was awake.
“You snore,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.
“I do not.”
“You do. It’s endearing. Like a small engine struggling to start.”
She lifted her head to glare at him, but the effect was undermined by the fact that she was still lying half on top of him. His blue eyes gleamed with amusement, and his hair was disheveled in a way that should have looked ridiculous but somehow managed to be attractive.
“You’re awful,” she informed him.
“I’ve been told.” His arm tightened around her waist, just slightly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes.” The admission came out before she could stop it. “Better than I have in... a while.”
Something shifted in his expression. The teasing warmth remained, but beneath it lurked something more serious. More vulnerable.
“Good,” he said quietly. “That’s... good.”
They stayed like that for a moment, suspended in the strange intimacy of morning. She was acutely aware of everywhere their bodies touched—her palm flat against his chest, his tail wrapped around her ankle, their legs tangled together beneath the thermal blanket.
“So,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something lower and more dangerous, “are you planning to stay there all day? Not that I’m complaining.”
“Maybe I am.” The words surprised her. Where had that come from?
His eyes darkened. “You’re playing a dangerous game, little human.”
“Maybe I like dangerous games.”
She didn’t know what possessed her. Maybe it was the lingering warmth of sleep, or the way he looked at her like she was something precious rather than a burden. Maybe it was simply the accumulated stress of the past days finally cracking her usual caution.
Whatever the reason, she leaned forward and kissed him.
It was meant to be quick. A small act of defiance against the fear that had ruled her since she’d woken in that cell. Just a brief press of lips, nothing more.
But the moment their mouths met, something ignited. His hand came up to cup the back of her head, his fingers threading through her tangled hair, and he deepened the kiss with a low sound that vibrated through her entire body. She gasped againsthis lips, and he used the opportunity to taste her properly, his tongue sliding against hers with devastating skill.
She’d been kissed before. She’d had boyfriends, fleeting relationships that never quite stuck. But this was different. This was fire and hunger and a desperate need she hadn’t known she possessed. His mouth wasn’t quite a human mouth, his tongue wider and rougher, but it only added to the pleasure.
He rolled them, pinning her beneath him without breaking the kiss. His weight pressed her into the bed, and she arched up into him instinctively, seeking more contact. His tail unwound from her ankle only to curl around her thigh, the sensation strange and thrilling all at once.
“Emma.” Her name was a growl against her lips. “We should?—”
“Don’t stop.”
He gave a breathless laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
He kissed her again, harder this time, one hand sliding down her side to grip her hip. She could feel his claws through the thin fabric of her gown—not quite touching skin, but close enough to make her shiver. Everything was heat and sensation and a growing ache between her thighs that demanded satisfaction.
A thin, piercing wail cut through the moment, and they both froze.
Ari’s cry rose in pitch, the unmistakable sound of an infant demanding attention, and her head fell back against the pillow with a groan.
“Perfect timing,” he muttered as he pulled back, and she immediately missed his warmth. Her body felt overheated and restless, desire still thrumming through her veins with nowhereto go. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.
“I should—” She gestured vaguely toward the drawer-bed where Ari was expressing her displeasure at full volume.
“Yes.” He sat up, running a hand through his already-disheveled mane. “You should.”
