“Don’t!”
The growl vibrated right through the mattress and made her fingers lock up. He took a step toward the bed, and her eye, completely betraying her, landed right on the front of his towel. There was a very large, very obvious problem developing down there. Her mouth went dry instantly, and she had to lick her lips just to breathe. The bulge actually twitched, and she thought her brain had just melted. She was supposed to be mad at him, but her body was currently voting for “team melt-into-the-bed.”
He walked toward the foot of the bed with that slow, predator-on-the-prowl grace. “Why hide yourself now?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.
Another sharp throb pulsed between her thighs in answer.
He towered over the bed, looking down at her as if he were deciding which part to eat first. He leaned in, his eyes pinning her to the spot. “Ashamed for your husband to see you naked? Or just realising you actually aren’t as brave as you try to portray?”
Kira swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and clung to stubborn pride like a lifeline. “I’m not afraid of you. I’ve said that before. I already know what I signed up for.”
“Do you?”
He did not wait for an answer. His hands moved to the towel knotted at his waist; he untied it without rushing, eyes never leaving hers. When the towel fell away, Kira fought the urge to look away, but she couldn’t. He stood there in his raw, naked Lycan glory, and she forgot how to breathe.
He was huge. Every inch of him screamed power, broad shoulders, corded arms, the deep V of muscle arrowing downward, and especially the part that was standing at full attention, ready to stake its claim.
The mattress groaned under his weight as he climbed onto the bed, and she had to dig deep for every bit of stubbornness not to scoot away. He crawled toward her on all fours, like a big cat stalking a very small, very naked dinner.
He loomed over her, caging her in with those powerful arms braced on either side of her head. He was so close that she could feel his breath, cool mint, tickling her lips. Her own breathing turned into short, messy pants. Her heart banged like it was trying to escape her ribs, and she was sure he heard it. She leaned back a little. He followed until she was flat on the mattress and he was over her, heat pouring off him like a bonfire, enveloping her, and making her head spin. She closed her eyes, bracing for whatever came next.
But nothing happened. She knew he was teasing her, trying to prove a point.
“You said you’re brave, Kira?” he whispered, his voice a dark, velvety lure against her mouth. “Then look at me. Don’t close your eyes.”
She snapped them open, and his amber stare pinned her. “Remember,” he said, low and serious. “This means nothing. No emotions. They would only hurt you.”
“I won’t catch any,” she whispered back, feeling the sting of insult.
“And since this your first, it’s going to hurt a little. But I’ll be graceful enough to make it count.”
She almost rolled her eyes at the smug edge in his voice. Was experience really something to boast about? But the thought dissolved into a gasp as his hand slid between her thighs, easing them apart with gentle insistence. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest; his nostrils flared as his fingers discovered how slick and ready she already was.
“Fuck,” he muttered, almost inaudibly.
Kira sucked in a breath as his fingers parted her folds, finding that sensitive spot again. The pad of his thumb circled slowly, sending sparks racing up her spine. She gripped the silk sheets for dear life, biting her lip to stay quiet. Then he leaned down and closed his mouth over one puckered nipple, drawing it deep. A low, helpless moan escaped her.
He sank one long finger inside her throbbing heat. Kira bit down hard on her lower lip to muffle the cry that wanted to break free. He lifted his head to stare at her, his eyes dark and intense. Her whole body was tensed up, just waiting for the big show.
“I’ll stretch you enough to take me,” he murmured.
He returned to her other breast, tongue flicking and teeth grazing, while his finger moved in slow, careful strokes, deep, then shallow. In. Out. In. Out.
Modesty? She had never heard of her. Kira was moaning openly now, fingers threading into his damp hair, pulling him closer without thinking. Her thighs fell open wider on their own, hips lifting to meet each careful thrust of his hand. A second finger joined the first, twisting gently, moving faster, deeper. Her back bowed off the mattress; she cried out when he gave her nipple a tiny, possessive bite.
Close. So close.
The pressure in her stomach was building like a volcano. She wondered if this was it, the “orgasm” everyone talked about. It was a glorious, terrifying feeling that made her forget her own name. His teeth grazed her again and he groaned against her skin like a starving man finally getting a meal.
“Derek,” his name slipped out before she could stop it.
His mouth lifted instantly. She opened her eyes, aching at the sudden loss of heat. She expected to see a triumphant smirk twisting his lips, but all she saw was raw animal hunger in his eyes. His fingers curled deep inside her, pressing against that perfect spot, and she officially lost her mind.
An explosion of pleasure careened through her, coiling every muscle she owned and leaving her rattling like a leaf in a storm, breath coming in broken sobs.
He gave her no time to recover. He pushed her thighs wider and settled his weight between them. She felt the blunt, hot length of him nudge her entrance; even spent, her body clenched in fresh anticipation.
“Ready to take me now, wife?” he asked, his voice so raspy it sent a fresh shiver down her spine.
Kira honestly didn’t know whether she was ready, angry, or simply losing her mind. She definitely needed to get used to this. She must have nodded, because Derek reached down between them and guided himself to her entrance. Before she could draw a full breath to brace herself, he thrust forward in one steady motion, filling her completely. The stretch was immediate and overwhelming-wide, burning, setting every nerve in her body alight from the inside out.
“Derek!”
He let out a low, approving growl as his mouth trailed lines of heat across her collarbone and throat. “Wrap your legs around me.”
She did it without thinking, ankles locking at the small of his back while her body arched instinctively toward what was coming. He captured her hands, pinned them above her head, and laced their fingers together in a tight grip. Then he withdrew slowly, agonisingly slowly, before slamming back in. Kira cried out, eyes rolling back as insane pleasure ripped through her, blasting every coherent thought from her mind.
In that moment nothing else existed. The contract, the heir, the open marriage, all of it dissolved. There was only this wild, consuming heat and her body screaming for more… more… more. She craved his mouth everywhere, on her skin, her nipples, her lips. She wanted him to kiss her until her thoughts scattered completely, but for some reason, he avoided her seeking mouth as though it were forbidden territory.
His thick length drove deep again and again, relentless. She needed him closer, skin pressed to skin, no space left between them. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot where a mate mark should sit. In the haze of mind-melting bliss, all she wanted was for him to bite down, to claim her truly and irrevocably. But his teeth retreated, replaced by the slow stroke of his tongue over that same patch of skin as his rhythm quickened-faster, harder, more urgent. When she lifted her hips to meet him, begging silently for everything he could give, a deep, vibrating growl tore from his chest and shoved her straight over the edge. Her consciousness shattered. Her inner walls clenched around him in wave after shuddering wave.
Derek’s head flung back on a raw roar of triumph and release. His hips snapped forward with powerful, urgent thrusts. Once. Twice. Inside her pulsing heat, she felt him swell impossibly thicker, and on the third deep drive, he came undone. His grip crushed her hands as his shaft flexed and jerked inside her until every ounce of strength left his muscles. He collapsed on top of her, spent and breathless, his weight pinning her to the mattress.
Kira was so wrecked by the pleasure that her eyelids grew impossibly heavy. She was drifting toward sleep when he finally released her hands and eased out of her.
“Give me a son, Kira,” he muttered.
Those were the last words she registered before darkness swallowed her whole.
***
She woke feeling… surprisingly good. The sheets were luxuriously soft against her bare skin, her body felt loose and thoroughly recalibrated, and there was only a faint, pleasant throb between her thighs. Each small movement of her hips sent a quick flash of memory through her core; heat, fullness, that shattering release, and her inner muscles clenched involuntarily at the recollection. She was naked and alone in the royal bed. This was the first time she had actually slept in Derek’s bed; until now she had stubbornly refused to share it at night, even after her belongings had been moved into his bedroom.
For a fleeting second, she thought he must have slipped out before she woke. Typical, she supposed, for men like him. She stretched lazily, one hand brushing across the expanse of mattress beside her. The sheets were cold, untouched, as though no one had slept there at all.
“Didn’t even sleep here, then?” she muttered. The image of Ruby’s hands on his shoulders from the night before flashed behind her eyes. She shoved it away, refusing to let it settle. “So much for playing the happy couple.”
She was just about to swing her legs over the side of the bed when the door opened. Derek strode in, looking annoyingly perfect in charcoal-grey gym gear that hugged every line of muscle. Of course he did. He looked unfairly good in everything, and she realised, with a small jolt that she was noticing it more sharply now.
“Morning,” Kira said, sliding her feet into her slippers.
“You’re late for training,” he replied, ignoring the greeting entirely.
Kira paused, studying him. He had slipped straight back into that cold, aloof mask, every trace of last night’s raw hunger gone. But she doesn’t give a damn either. “I’m going to school,” she said, heading towards the en suite.
“Your first class isn’t until twelve.”
She stopped and turned. “How on earth do you know my timetable?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he placed a neatly folded set of sportswear on the foot of the bed and set a small bottle of coconut oil beside it. “This is your training kit and coconut oil. I heard it helps with soreness. Get ready and come downstairs in ten minutes.”
Kira stared at the clothes and the bottle, then back at him. “I don’t feel sore. You don’t have to treat me like fragile porcelain. And I’m not training with you.”
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