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“On Tuesday, before I came home.”
“On Tuesday?” She turns to face me a little more fully as she lifts the necklace before my eyes. “Is this the reason you were late coming home when your mother was over? Because you were buying me jewelry?”
“Ana,” I drawl, “are you going to thank me for my generous gift, or do I need to find you another?”
She lifts her chin and glares down her nose at me for a long moment before twisting around in my lap, turning to display her back to me and lifting her dark hair to one side.
“Fine,” she huffs in such an uncharacteristically haughty tone that I wonder who she learned it from, and she dangles the jewelry over her shoulder. “You can put it on me.”
I finish fastening the clasp calmly, slide one arm around to her stomach, and then pull her suddenly back into my chest, gripping her chin between my fingers and forcing her face to tilt towards mine so that I can kiss her. By the time I pull my lips from hers, we are both breathing more quickly.
“When did you pick up such an attitude, my dear?”
“You like my attitude,” she says with a sly grin.
“I am hard-pressed to find anything about you which I don’t like,” I mutter, and my gaze traces down to where the diamond rests over the swell of her breasts. “Do you like my gift?”
She lays her hand against mine over her stomach, and I trail my fingers from her throat to follow the chain of the necklace.
“Very much,” she whispers, nudging her cheek against mine. “Thank you for personally going out of your way to choose something for me that you thought I’d like. You’ve got impeccable taste, and it’s really beautiful, and I really, really appreciate it.”
I nudge her cheek back and touch my lips to her throat. “You are most welcome.”
“Can I…Is it too much? Or can I wear it as a daily thing?”
My hand presses almost involuntarily against her stomach, and I nip gently at her throat. “I should very much like to see you wear this always.”
She sighs as I trail my lips and teeth along her skin, and the breathy way her voice flutters encourages a slow tension to build within me. She leans flush against my chest, her lush body soft and warm in my lap and I watch her, utterly enraptured by the flickers of expression that dart across her features when I eventually brush my fingers down between her thighs.
She tightens her grip in my hair, she tilts her head back to rest against my shoulder, and the little sounds she makes while I tap out a gentle rhythm over her clothing send jolts of awareness sizzling through my nerves. When her eyes slip shut and she arches, pushing into my hand, spreading her thighs… a need to truly touch her suddenly overwhelms me, to feel her slick against my fingers and hear her moan my name in my ear.
I find myself hardening quickly against her back, responding to the decadence of her desire. I have an arm curled around her waist and I slide my palm up to grip her breast, trying to hold back, wanting to control myself, but the sounds that she makes and the way she feels in my arms is unraveling me fast.
“Vahadr?” Her voice is like a question, breathy and wanting. “Please, I—please…”
I’m not even sure she knows what she’s asking for, but I do. And when I lift my hand to dip beneath the waistband of her pants, when I slide my fingers down along her wetness, when I have her cupped entirely in my palm and she jerks her hips into me with a whimpered, gasping, hiccup of a moan, I can’t help the way my own body responds to her.
I don't want to push her, but I want her—I want her.
I dip my finger shallowly inside her, careful not to scratch her with my slightly elongated claws, and the only thing she clenches is her hand now gripping the back of my neck. Everything else is open to me. She spreads her knees further, she rolls her hips against my palm, and the feel of her arousal, how wet she is for me, it’s doing strange things to my thoughts and my body.
“S-stop,” she breaths and takes my mind a moment to catch up. “Wait.”
I pull in a deep, sharp breath and move both my hands off her, wrapping my arms firmly around her stomach as I drop my face into her hair with a groan. “Ana…”
Her hand comes to rest tentatively against my cheek, and she takes a shuddering breath of her own. “Sorry…”
I huff and shake my head, pressing a firm kiss to the back of her neck.
“I just…I don’t want your fingers,” she whispers. “I want you.”
