battle. I can feel it in the way his touch grows a little harder, a little more possessive. Still, his hands won’t budge from my arms. He’s such a goddamn gentleman, and I don’t want him to be.
This might be a bad idea, but I’m beyond caring about what’s smart.
I sit up abruptly, and as his hands fall away from my arms, I kiss him. The moment our lips meet, it’s like a dam breaking.
With a low noise that rumbles up from the back of his throat, Ridge wraps his arms around me, pinning my body against his as he returns my kiss. I can feel his heart thudding against mine as my chest presses to his, and the movement of his lips on mine is hot and almost frantic, starting at one hundred instead of building up slowly.
It feels like falling and flying at the same time. It’s overwhelming, addictive, and everything I need in this moment.
My sexual experience before I met the four shifter men was next to nothing. I don’t get the sense that Ridge has ever been a player, but I can tell he’s more experienced than me. There’s a confidence in the way he holds me, in the way he kisses me, that makes me certain he knows exactly how to draw pleasure from a woman’s body.
Maybe the difference in our experience levels should make me feel shy or awkward, but instead, it makes me feel… safe.
I don’t need to be some perfect sex goddess. I just need to be here with Ridge, following my instincts and reveling in the feelings he draws out in my body. I just need to let go and do what feels good.
So that’s exactly what I do.
My hands roam over the hard, sculpted expanse of his muscles as I touch every inch of him I can reach, groping him without a hint of shame. We end up on our knees on the bed, our bodies pressed together as our lips and tongues grapple. It’s almost like a war, a battle to see who can consume more of the other person.
It’s a fight I want to both win and lose.
When my fingers drop down to the hem of Ridge’s shirt, he finally breaks our kiss, leaning away from me enough for me to draw the dark tee up and over his head. I toss it away onto the floor, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth as I take in the shadowy form of his chest and torso.
I’ve seen this man naked more times than I would have if we were living in human society, with no need to strip down for a shift. I’m still not entirely used to the wolf shifters’ casual attitude toward nudity, but I’ve reached the point where I at least don’t flush bright red every time they discard their clothes or shift back into human form naked. I’m learning to see it as just a part of daily life.
But this?
This is different.
This is Ridge’s broad chest bared only for me. This is an intimate moment, charged with heady desire.
Seeing Ridge shirtless in this context is totally different than when he strips down before shifting. It’s even different than the night all four men surrounded me on the bed and made me feel things I never had before.
It’s just me and him.
I suddenly do feel a little shy, but I don’t let that stop me from reaching out and resting my hands on his chest. His pecs are muscular and slightly rounded, and they flex under my touch, as if it’s taking all his restraint to stay still while I explore him. Butterflies flap around in my stomach and my breath picks up a little as I drag my palms downward, feeling the slight prickle of his chest hair against my skin.
My fingertips drop lower, tracing the contours of his abs, and when my gaze flickers down to the bulge in his pants, my mouth goes a little dry.
He seems so big compared to me. Large and imposing in every sense.
My fingers graze the skin below his belly button, following the small trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his pants, and Ridge’s breath catches. I see his hands curl into fists at his sides, but he still doesn’t move, allowing me the freedom to touch him and explore him however I want.
Fuck, there are so many ways I want to touch him. I’d need to grow extra arms to do it all