Page 152 of The Wolf King

I kneel upright, and smile.

I’m about to turn around when the fabric rustles. Callum’s thighs brush my hips as he kneels behind me and places a hand flat on my stomach. A lick of heat flares in the pit of my stomach as my back touches his chest.

“I wanted to do more.” He runs his thumb along my torso, and I wish my shirt wasn’t in the way of his touch. “We could only carry so much on horseback.”

“It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

He dips his mouth, and kisses the sensitive spot behind my ear, then peppers a trail of kisses on the back of my neck. I suppress a moan.

“Goddess,” he says. “I’ve wanted to be alone with you like this for so long.”

Gently, he tugs the hem of my shirt out of my breeches, and slides his hand beneath. His palm is rough and warm as it skims my torso. My gaze snaps down, transfixed, as he moves his hand lower and unfastens the button of my breeches.

My heart is hammering against my chest. It is almost deafening in my ears.

I want his hand there. I ache for it. There is heat between my legs, throbbing and wet, and it is almost unbearable.

And it is not as if he hasn’t touched me there before.

Yet it feels different this time. Perhaps because it means something. It symbolizes that I am truly leaving the past behind. It solidifies the truth, and the choice I made so many nights ago.

I choose him.

Or perhaps it is because before, when we were in his bed, he was only willing to give to me. This time, he will take from me, too.

I have not done this before. What if I disappoint him?

Callum stills. He removes his hands from the fastening of my breeches, and flattens his palm on my bare torso.

“You don’t need to fear me,” he says, softly.

“I’m not afraid. I’m—” I exhale, realizing there is no use in trying to hide my emotions from him. “You can hear my heartbeat, can’t you?”

“Aye.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I can.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Turn around.”

I shuffle, the furs soft beneath my knees, and face him. He shifts to accommodate me between his thighs. He looks so huge and strong in the small space, his head almost brushing the fabric ceiling of the tent. His expression is soft.

“Give me your hand,” he says.

He brushes his lips against my knuckles, then presses my hand against his chest. His heartbeat thumps quickly, agitatedly, against my palm.

My eyes snap up to his. “You’re afraid?”

“I told you, you’re a fearsome creature.”

When I narrow my eyes, he grins.

“No. I’m not afraid. I am...” He drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “I am excited. Excited that I have you alone. But I’m nervous, too. I’m nervous that I will not please you. I’m nervous you will not share your emotions with me, and I will push you too hard. I’m nervous that I will scare you away.” He inclines his head at me. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me what it is that you fear.”

My pulse beats faster.

I am not used to sharing my emotions with anyone. I’m not used to people caring what I think, or what I want, or what feel. Yet this evening, I have already shared more than I have before in my life.

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