She’s all pale curves and promise. Thick thighsbraced in the grass. Luscious hipsmy hands itch to grip as she rides me. Soft stomachI want to trace with my mouth. Dimples at the base of her spine leading to the ripe curve of herass. Full breasts tipped with dusky peaks tight from the night air and the way I’m watching her. Moonlight catches the faint sheen of sweat onher collarbone and slides along thebite markat her throat—mymark—aclaimthat beats with her pulse.
And then there’s herbeautiful face—green eyes wide and bright with hunger, lips parted. Strands of red hair cling to her cheeks and throat, a wild halo that makes the wolf in me bare its teeth in worship.
Her gaze moves over me without shame, without hesitation. Not the quick flick of someone startled by nudity, but the steady, quiet study of someone who wants to know every angle of me. My pulse stumbles. The wolf in me straightens, uncertain what to do with a gaze that powerful and kind at the same time.
Scarlett’s eyes sweep down, taking in the long lines the hunt carved into me—the scars, the lean strength that doesn’t hide what it is. My body has always been a weapon, but under her eyes it becomes something else entirely. Her look doesn’t strip; ithonors.
She lingers on my hands, the ones that have killed as a wolf and now tremble because they want only to touch her gently. Her mouth parts slightly, and I see the flicker of heat in her eyes, threaded with wonder.
For a second, I see myself the way she must: a creature of two natures—flesh and fur, man and beast—made whole again in her gaze.
Then her gaze drops to my cock, and she licks her lips. I almost spill there on the forest floor.
I grit my teeth to maintain control as she steps closer. When her hand finally lifts to rest on my chest, it’s with the same quiet reverence I feel when I touch her.
“You’re beautiful,” she says softly. “Not beautiful like something perfect or polished. Beautiful like somethingreal.”
I cover her hand with mine, letting her feel the truth of my pulse beneath her palm. “So are you.”
Her chin tilts a notch higher, heat flickering through her gaze. “Touch me.”
The forest holds its breath. The world narrows to her pulse at her throat, to the way she accepts me without hesitation.
“Scarlett.” Her name burns in my mouth, reverent and rough. My words seem too small for what’s in my chest. “I love you.”
She smiles. “And I love you, my wonderful, wicked wolf.”
The distance between us disappears.
I claim her mouth, slowly at first, coaxing her to open for me, then deeper as heat curls through and tightens into something needier. Her hands map my shoulders, the dip of my spine, the hard thrust of my cock against her belly.
Easing her down onto the soft moss, I kneel between her knees. My fingers skate the inside of her thigh, barely there, until her hips roll on instinct.
“Here?” I ask, my knuckles ghosting over her slick heat.
Scarlett whimpers. “Please.”
Gods, please is a holy word in her mouth.
I part her with my thumbs and lower my mouth. The first taste wrecks me—salt and musk and wildflowers. I drag my tongue slowly, flattening it against her clit. She arches and releases a soft moan that travels straight to the base of my spine. I keepmy movements lazy until her hips start to chase me, then focus, circling, sealing my mouth, and sucking until her clit pulses against my tongue. I press one finger inside her slowly, then two, curling them to brush that place that makes her see stars.
“Look at me,” I demand, voice wrecked against her skin. “I want to watch you come. I want you looking at me when you do.”
Her emerald eyes lock onto mine. I hold her gaze and work her apart—patiently, relentlessly—until her hips chase my hand, until the ache is a bright string I pluck and pluck and?—
“Reid—”
“That’s it, little wolf. Give it to me.”
She does. She gives me everything as she breaks, wild and messy, my name scattered across the clearing. I work her through it, patient and relentless, until I’ve ridden the last tremor on my tongue, until she shakes and sags and pushes my head with helpless little gasps.
I kiss the inside of her thigh, her hip, then crawl up her body, my mouth finding hers. She tastes herself on my tongue and moans into it.
Catch her wrists with one hand, I pin them above her head, and sink into her slowly. Inch by delicious inch. Watching her face as she opens for me. The heat and stretch drag a moan from both of us.
“Good?” I grind out through gritted teeth.
“So good,” she gasps, tilting her hips to take me deeper. “More.”
