“Absolutely.” His hands slide into my hair, fingers tangling in the silver strands as he tilts my face up toward his. “See? Very convenient.”
The tug sends a spark of pleasure down my spine, and I rise onto my toes to close the distance between our mouths. His tongue curls around mine, and I moan into his mouth as his grip in my hair tightens, pulling hard enough to send electric currents racing down my spine to pool between my thighs.
When we break apart, my breath comes harder, and the rumble in his chest deepens into a full Alpha purr that resonates through my body.
“You’re a good Alpha, Emily Wilson,” Jared says, serious despite his pheromones filling the air with desire. “Hair long or short, dress shoes or work boots. The core of you never changes.”
The words slip beneath my defenses, touching places I’ve only just started to acknowledge since Auren dismantled everything I thought I knew about myself. Jared accepts me. All of me, not just the constructed image Auren pushed on me or the tough exterior I show my crew.
“Thank you,” I whisper, the words inadequate for what his acceptance means to me.
Jared’s purr deepens as he lifts a hand to brush his thumb across my lower lip. “Now, where were we before Mixie interrupted?”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “I think you were about to take me to bed.”
“So I was.” Jared lifts me with ease, one arm beneath my knees and the other supporting my back, and he carries me the short distance to our bed.
Chapter Eight
Emily
The sheets cool my heated skin as he lays me down slowly, savoring each second of contact between us.
He stands at the edge of the bed, shrugging off his open shirt, his muscles shifting beneath his skin, revealing broad shoulders that narrow to a lean waist. Light brown hair scatters across his chest, thinning into a trail before it disappears beneath his waistband.
The ridges of his abdomen tighten as he unfastens his belt, the metal buckle clinking as he pulls it free from the loops. Moonlight from the window casts his tall, athletic frame in silver light as he steps out of his pants. His cock springs free, already hard and flushed, the thick length of him heavy between powerful thighs corded with muscle that flex with each subtle shift.
When he joins me on the mattress, the bed dips beneath him. His body hovers over mine, supported on his forearms as he lowers his head for a kiss, gentle at first before it deepens, his tongue stroking mine in a prelude of more to come.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, lips brushing mine before he pulls back to trail his fingers along the curve of my collarbone.
The calluses on his fingertips send shivers racing across my body as his touch drifts lower, tracing the swell of my breast before circling my nipple, which tightens in immediate response.
My back arches into his touch, seeking more pressure, more contact. Jared replaces his fingers with his mouth, the wet heat of his tongue drawing a gasp from me as my hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands.
“More,” I whisper, not caring how demanding I sound.
He hums his agreement, the vibration traveling through my sensitive flesh. His lips move to my other breast while his hand slides down my stomach, tracing patterns across my skin and leaving fire in its wake.
When he reaches for my underwear, I lift my hips, and he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband, drawing the black lace down my legs with tantalizing slowness. The cool air of the bedroom washes over my sex before the heat of Jared’s palm replaces it as he cups me.
A moan escapes my throat as his fingers find my wetness, slipping through swollen folds to find the sensitive nub hidden among my curls. He knows how to touch me, where to apply pressure, and when to ease back. The last month together has taught him my body’s responses as thoroughly as I know his.
His mouth continues its journey downward, leaving a trail of kisses across my ribs, my stomach, my hipbones. Each spot receives the same devoted attention as he maps territory anew that he’s already committed to memory.
My skin prickles with goose bumps as his breath warms my lower belly, his hands spreading my thighs wider to accommodate his broad shoulders.
“Jared,” I breathe his name, half plea, half warning.
He licks his lips. “Patience.”
The word would irritate me from anyone else, but from him, with his lips inches from where I need them most, it sends a fresh surge of wetness between my thighs.
His fingers trace lazy circles along my inner thighs, coming close to my center before retreating. The teasing touch drives my pulse higher, my breathing more ragged. When his mouth replaces his fingers, the first contact of his tongue on my clit sends a jolt of pleasure through me so intense that my hips buck upward.
Jared’s strong hands press my thighs back down, holding me in place as his talented tongue does its work. Coherent thought becomes impossible as he alternates between broad strokes and focused attention that has me clutching at the sheets. The sound of my own harsh breathing fills the room, punctuated by soft, wet noises from between my legs.
Heat builds in my core, tension coiling tighter with each movement of his mouth. My fingers twist in his hair, guiding him to the spot I need him most.