Chapter 4
Evie
Wolf doesn’t move for a heartbeat. His hand stays at my neck, fingers resting there like he can feel my pulse, like it matters. His eyes search mine, sharp and steady, checking for fear.
I’m scared.
I’m also sure.
His jaw flexes. Then he leans in.
His mouth covers mine and the kiss is nothing like the ones in the bar. There’s no crowd, no noise, no reason to rush. It’s slower, deeper, heavy with intent. He tastes faintly of tea and smoke, and the way he kisses me makes my whole body tilt toward him like gravity changed.
My hands lift on their own, sliding into his hair, thick and dark under my fingers. I tug lightly, needing to feel him, needing something solid.
A low sound rips out of him, rough and hungry.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, lips still brushing mine.
“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice wrecked. “And I stop.”
The promise steadies me. The control in it does something to me.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I whisper.
His eyes go darker.
He kisses me again, harder this time, and his hand slides from my neck down my side, palm flattening over my waist. He grips, firm, and pulls me closer until I’m pressed to him. I feel heat, muscle, and the hard line of his restraint everywhere.
My dress rides up as I shift, my knees spreading around him without meaning to. The movement makes me blush, but Wolf’s hands don’t hesitate. They hold my hips like they belong there.
His mouth breaks from mine and he drags kisses down my jaw, my throat, the soft spot beneath my ear. Each one makes my breath stutter.
His fingers catch the edge of my cardigan and slide it down my arms. The fabric slips off my shoulders and lands beside me on the couch. His mouth keeps moving over my skin like he’s claiming the space he just uncovered.
“Angel,” he murmurs against my skin, “you’re shaking.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper, and it’s not a lie this time. It’s fear and want tangled together, but the want is winning.
His mouth returns to mine. The kiss deepens. His tongue brushes mine, a quiet demand that makes my stomach flip. I answer without thinking, and he groans like he’s been waiting for me to give in.
His hand slides lower, gripping my thigh through the fabric.
I gasp.
Wolf stills immediately, lifting his head. His eyes lock on mine. “Too much?”
The fact that he asks nearly breaks me.
“No,” I breathe. “Not too much.”
He watches me for another beat, then nods once, like he heard me and he believes me.
His hand moves again, slower now, thumb stroking the thickness of my thigh like he likes it, like he’s claiming it. Heat blooms between my legs, sudden and sharp.
I suck in a breath and my hips lift toward his hand on instinct.
Wolf’s eyes flare. His mouth finds mine again, swallowing my gasp. His palm slides higher, still outside my dress, still patient, teasing. I can’t stand how careful he’s being.
I break the kiss, panting. “Wolf.”
“What,” he says, low and rough, the word more a growl than a question.
“I want,” I whisper, and then I get stuck because wanting feels dangerous. Like saying it out loud makes it real.
Wolf’s hand moves back to my neck, thumb brushing under my jaw. “Use your words.”
My cheeks burn. My body is trembling and I hate that I’m still shy when I’m the one who asked for this.
“I want you to touch me,” I manage.
His breath leaves him hard, like I punched it out.
“Where,” he says.
The single word turns my insides liquid.
I swallow. “Between my legs.”
Wolf goes still.
His gaze holds mine like a warning. “Tell me to stop and I stop.”
“I won’t tell you to stop,” I whisper.
A rough sound leaves him.
He shifts forward, crowding me, and the heat of him presses into me through my dress. My breath catches at how hard he feels. At how much he wants.
Wolf closes his eyes for a second like he’s steadying himself. Then he lifts me, just a little, moving me deeper onto the couch so my back hits the cushions and my head sinks into the worn fabric.
He climbs over me, bracing on his forearms like he’s trying not to crush me. His body is a shield, warm and heavy and safe.
His eyes search my face again. “You still with me?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
His mouth finds mine once more, and while he kisses me, his hand slides under the hem of my dress.
Skin to skin.
His fingers spread over my thigh, and I shiver hard at the intimacy of it. He strokes once, slow, then slides higher. His hand is warm, rougher than I expected, callused in a way that makes every touch feel real.
His fingertips brush the inside of my thigh and my whole body jolts.
Wolf breaks the kiss and watches my reaction like he’s memorizing it.
“You’re sensitive,” he murmurs, and his voice is full of satisfaction.
“I’ve never…” I start, and my throat tightens.
He stills immediately, palm flat on my thigh, not moving until I look at him again.
“Never what?” he asks, low and steady.
I’m embarrassed. I’m terrified he’ll see me as inexperienced and get bored, or worse, think I’m childish. But his eyes are patient, not mocking.
“Never been touched,” I whisper.
The hunger stays in his gaze, but something softer steps in front of it.
“Okay,” he says, like it’s a promise, not a problem. “Then we go slow.”
My chest aches.
Wolf kisses my forehead once, quick and possessive. Then his mouth finds mine again, slower. He’s not rushing. He’s teaching my body that it’s safe to want.
His hand moves higher, skimming the edge of my underwear.
I gasp.
He pauses. “Still okay?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”
That word does something to him. His jaw tightens. His eyes darken.
He presses his fingers into the waistband, teasing, then slides them under.
The touch is gentle at first, just the pad of his fingers against me, a slow stroke that makes my whole body seize and then melt.
A sound slips out of me, broken and needy.
Wolf groans, low and rough. His mouth drops to my throat, kissing there as if he needs somewhere to put the noise he can’t control.
His fingers move again, slow circles, steady pressure, and heat spirals upward so fast my head goes light.
I clutch his shoulders, nails digging into leather.
“Wolf,” I breathe.
He lifts his head. His eyes are feral. “Tell me what you need.”
My voice shakes. “More.”
He strokes again. “More what.”
My cheeks burn. “Harder.”
Wolf’s breath catches. He obeys, increasing the pressure just enough to make me gasp and arch into his hand. He watches me like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“You’re doing good,” he murmurs. “Stay with me.”
My hips move on their own, chasing his touch. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.
He kisses me again with hunger, swallowing my shaky sounds. His hand keeps moving, steady and relentless, building the heat until my thighs tremble.
“I’m gonna,” I gasp, not even sure what I’m saying, only that something is tightening inside me.
Wolf stills, just for a second, his eyes locked on mine.
“Let it happen,” he says.
Then his fingers move again, faster now, the pressure sharp and perfect, and my body snaps tight and then breaks open into a rush that steals my breath.
I cry out into his mouth, shaking hard, clinging to him like he’s holding me together.
Wolf holds me through it, hand firm at my thigh, mouth moving over mine like he owns the sound I make. He keeps kissing me while the aftershocks ripple through my body, slow and sweet and overwhelming.
When I finally come down enough to breathe, Wolf pulls back and rests his forehead against mine.
“You okay,” he asks, voice rough.
I nod, dazed. “Yes.”
His mouth brushes mine, softer. “Good.”
His hand slides from between my legs to my waist, palm flattening there like he’s grounding me again. Then he shifts, and I feel the hard press of him against my thigh.
My eyes widen.
Wolf’s gaze holds mine, and the heat in it makes my stomach flip all over again.
“You still want more,” he murmurs.
It isn’t a question. He can see it on me.
I swallow, nerves rushing back in. “I… I don’t know.”
Wolf stills instantly. His hand cups my cheek.
“Angel,” he says, voice steady, “we don’t do anything you don’t want.”
My throat tightens. “I do want it. I’m just…”
“Scared,” he finishes, and he doesn’t sound annoyed. He sounds like he understands.
I nod.
Wolf kisses my cheek, then the corner of my mouth, patient. “Then we do it slow.”
He shifts back slightly, giving me room to breathe, and the loss of his weight makes me miss him instantly.
He looks down at my dress, then back to my eyes. “Can I take this off?”
The question makes my cheeks burn.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Wolf grips the hem gently and lifts, slow enough that I can stop him. The fabric slides up my thighs, over my hips, and he pulls it off over my head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside without looking away from me.
I’m left in my underwear, chest rising and falling too fast.
I try to cover myself instinctively.
Wolf catches my wrists.
Not rough. Just firm.
“No,” he says, and his eyes lock on mine. “Don’t hide.”
I swallow. “I’m… I’m not used to this.”
His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist. “Get used to it.”
The words are possessive, but the way he says them feels like a promise that he’ll teach me, not a demand that I perform.
Wolf’s gaze drags over me, slow, and instead of feeling judged, I feel… wanted.
His hand slides up my side, palm warm on my ribs.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs again, like he can’t help himself.
My throat tightens. “Wolf…”
He leans down and kisses my stomach, right over the soft curve I usually hate. The touch is so tender it makes my eyes sting.
“Don’t,” he murmurs against my skin, like he knows what I’m feeling.
Then he rises and kisses me again, and I forget how to think.
Wolf shifts his weight, reaching behind him. The scrape of a belt buckle makes my pulse spike.
He breaks the kiss and looks at me, giving me one more out.
“You sure,” he asks, low.
I nod, breathless. “Yes.”
Wolf exhales hard, like he’s been holding back for hours.