Page 62 of Campfires & Canines
"Good morning, gorgeous," I murmur. "How about some breakfast and we check your new mark."
She whimpers in protest, her fingers feathering down my abs.
I catch her hand and kiss it. She tries to tug it away but I don’t let go.
“What’s the ring you always wear?” I ask.
She twists her hand to display the tiny silver band. It may have been ornate at one point, but time has worn it smooth. “My grandma’s. On my mom’s side,” she answers. I kiss the back of her hand before releasing her.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She looks like she wants to ask me something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she resumes running her hands across my chest.
I click my tongue and roll away. “Come on.”
Grabbing clothes, I head into the bathroom. When I emerge, she's got her back turned to me and she's slipping one of my shirts over her head. My mouth waters. To my delight, it doesn't quite cover her perfect ass.
She smirks over her shoulder and slips into the bathroom. I watch her go. Heading into the kitchen, I toss some bacon in a pan and slice some peaches. I rinse some raspberries and pile all the fruit into two bowls.
"A balanced breakfast. You take such good care of me." She kisses my bare back and I'm suddenly pleased I didn't bother with a shirt yet.
“Gotta keep my girl fed.” I offer her the plate of bacon.
She's looking at me like she'd prefer to devour me instead of her breakfast. But instead, she takes a bite of bacon, closing her eyes and groaning.
"You shouldn't do that," I warn. Slowly, she spears a slice of peach and brings it to her mouth, closing her lips around it while making eye contact.
"You're something else." My voice scrapes. As much as I would love to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to bed for the entire day, we have responsibilities.
Or at least we need to check in before I go all caveman on her.
I wash my hands and softly tug the neckline of her shirt aside to inspect my bite mark. She curves her neck, presenting herself to me. I bite my tongue. Doesn't she know what she's doing to me?
I peel off the bandage, wipe it down with an antiseptic, and carefully apply a new one.
As I wash up, she picks at her fruit. "So, is it always the men who claim women?" she asks, breaking the silence.
I shake my head. "Sometimes it's women who ask. Most couples, both claim each other when it comes down to it."
"Oh." She sits back. "Can I claim you?"
I smile, reaching out and running my thumb over her bottom lip. "With these little teeth?"
She bites at my thumb, making me laugh.
"How are yours any different? I mean, you're human unless you shift into wolf form, right?"
"You think so?" I challenge her, my voice lowering.
Her eyes go wide and then narrow.
"You're going to have to prove it one way or another." She dares me. I've never been one to walk away from a confrontation.
I spin her barstool to face me and step between her thighs. Planting my right hand on the countertop behind her, I lean into her space. She looks up at me, her pupils blown out. I haven’t even touched her yet.
With my left hand, I tug at the hem of the shirt she stole. "I like this on you," I purr.
In a smooth movement, I lift her to sit on the countertop. Shoving the barstool aside, I press right up against her. She parts her legs for me. So compliant.
