Page 95 of Broken Wolf Heart
She grips my shoulders for balance, one foot braced on the wall, and when I dip my head between her legs and run my tongue along her center, she moans so loud it echoes through the empty house.
“Grey—”
Her hand tangles in my hair, pulling me tighter against her. Fine by me. I could die right here and be perfectly happy about meeting my end. So, as she moans my name, I don’t stop. I devour. I worship. I work her clit with slow, circular pressure, then faster, then slower again until she’s shaking against the wall, panting, pleading.
When I push a finger inside her, she comes on my tongue with a cry, her entire body trembling.
I rise and scoop her into my arms. She buries her face in my neck as I carry her to the bed. I drop her onto the comforter, scattering half a dozen pillows to the floor, and follow her down, my hands sliding over her curves, over herhips and breasts. I bite her shoulder, her collarbone, the inside of her thigh.
“I need you inside me,” she whispers, voice hoarse, eyes unfocused.
She looks like a wet dream lying here spread out for me, her hair splayed against the bedsheets. A dream I never want to wake from again.
I sheath myself and slide into her slowly, both of us gasping at the stretch, the way her body clenches around me like she was made to take me.
We find our rhythm easily. Naturally. Like wolves running in sync. She meets me thrust for thrust, her nails digging into my back, her eyes locked on mine.
She’s not afraid. Not of my wolf. Not of me. And that undoes me more than anything else ever could.
I shift slightly, angling deeper, hitting that spot that makes her eyes roll back. She clenches harder around my cock, breathless curses tumbling from her lips.
“You feel like fucking heaven,” I growl, thrusting harder, chasing that edge.
She shudders beneath me. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“Never.”
She tightens around me again, her cries turning desperate.
With a final thrust, I push her over the edge, and she pulls me with her, both of us spiraling together in heat and light and every promise we wish we could make for our future.
Then I collapse in a satisfied heap beside her.
Later, when the only sound is our breathing, I pull her against me, her head resting on my chest.
Her fingers trace lazy circles over my skin.
“Is this house really ours?” she asks sleepily.
“Yes.”
She exhales, sinking deeper into my arms.
“I’ve never had a home before,” she murmurs.
I kiss the top of her head. “You do now.”
She lifts her head and kisses me softly, reverently. “So do you.”
20
LEXI
The first thing I notice upon waking is the quiet.
No reporters. No staff or pack members in and out. No one banging on the door to tell me that I’m late to something or alerting us to some new threat. Just silence, thick and soft like a blanket over my ears.
Then warmth. The feel of Grey behind me, one arm heavy across my waist, his body curled around mine like I’m something precious. Protected.
