but I told him a little.
And like the wolf he was, he laved the wound in my soul, bandaging it with his care--and moved on to the next.
He explored thoroughly, found each mental wound-- and a few I didn't know I had--and replaced them with other ...
better things.
And when passion began to grow too wild, too fast ...
"So," he murmured, "are you ticklish here?" Yep.
Who'd have known it? I looked at my inner elbow as if I'd never seen it before.
He laughed, bounced over a little, and made a raspberry noise with his mouth on my belly.
My knees jerked up in reflex, and I bopped him on the head with my elbow.
"Are you all right?" I pulled away from him and sat up--all desire to laugh gone.
Trust me to clobber Adam while we're making out.
Stupid, clumsy idiot, me.
He took one look at my face, put both arms over his head, and rolled on his back, moaning in agony.
"Hey," I said.
And when he didn't stop, I poked him in the side--I knew some of his ticklish spots, too.
"Stop that.
I didn't hit you that hard." He'd been taking lessons from Samuel.
He opened one eye.
"How would you know?" "You have a hard head," I informed him.
"If I didn't damage my elbow, I didn't hurt your head." "Come here," he said opening his arms wide, eyes glittering with laughter ...
and heat.
I crawled over on top of him.
We both closed our eyes for a bit while I made myself comfortable.
He ran his hands over my back.
"I love this," he told me, a little breathless and yellow-eyed.
"Love what?" I turned my head and put my ear on his chest so I could hear the pounding of his heart.
"Touching you ..." He deliberately ran a hand over my bare butt.
"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" He dug in with his fingers.
Tension from the night before had left me tight, and it felt good.
I went limp, and if I could have purred, I would have.