Page 78 of Claimed By the Wraiths

He caught my fingers and kissed the center of my palm.

Then my wrist.

Then the inside of my elbow.

Not a route he had used before. Not a sequence leading anywhere except where he felt like going.

I stopped trying to predict him.

That was harder than it should have been.

His mouth found my stomach. My hip. The soft place just inside it that made my legs tense before he’d done anything more than breathe there.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“Don’t look pleased with yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“You are internally pleased.”

Now he actually smiled.

Then his mouth moved lower and I stopped having opinions about his expression.

Slow turned out to be worse than urgency.

Or better.

Possibly both.

He had no deadline and used that fact against me.

Every time I thought he was going to give me what I wanted, he changed pressure, changed angle, moved his hand somewhere else and made me wait another breath.

“Serak.”

“Yes.”

“That was not a request for acknowledgment.”

“I know.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Yes.”

At least he was learning honesty.

I reached down, caught his shoulder, and pulled until he came back up the bed.

“My turn.”

His eyebrows lifted.

I pushed him onto his back.