Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
And I want to kiss more.
In the last month—how humans measure the time it takes for the moon to become full and disappear again—I have lived at Dakota’s side. I have watched her bathe herself many times, swiping a wet, soapy cloth over her limbs with quick, brisk motions. In all this time, I have not seen all of her. She is careful to keep herself concealed from me, and I have often wondered what it would be like to touch her without all the layers she piles atop her body. I never ask, because I have always considered myself unworthy of her. Broken.
But I am not broken, and I am going to ask now.
“Touch here?” I ask, stroking a knuckle along her delicate collarbone. “Good?”
Dakota nods, her eyes soft as she watches me. Her hands drift over my arms and my upper chest, as if she wants to touch me but is worried as to how much I will allow.
I take her hand and gently press her palm on my chest, over my heart. “Dakota touch good. Touch Murr all body.” I pull her hand downward. “All good.”
She shivers, her gaze flicking to mine. Her hand goes to the loin wrap I wear and she pauses at the waist, holding it there. That is fine. Let her get used to the idea of touching me. She can take as long as she needs. I nuzzle at her throat, kissing and licking the skin there before I drag my knuckle down to the slope of one breast.
“Touch here?” I ask.
Her voice goes husky. “Yes.”
Now we are getting somewhere. I tug on the layer that covers her torso, wanting to expose her to my gaze. I pull it up and up, and she lifts her arms so I can pull it over her head…only to reveal another smaller layer underneath covering her breasts.
What is it with humans and their layers?!
The moment the shirt is pulled off, she clutches it to her chest. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this out in the open,” she says. “Anyone could see.”
I do not want her to be uncomfortable, but bodies are not things to be hidden or ashamed of. “Murr see. Dakota no want?”
“It’s not that,” she says, and peeks over my shoulder. “What if someone sneaks up on us? Rabbit? Or Aggie?”
“Murr smell,” I reassure her, tapping my nose. “No sneak.”
She points at the sky. “What if someone flies overhead?”
“See Murr back.” I touch each of my shoulders as if to demonstrate what any drakoni would see if they looked down. I lean in closer to her, drinking in her heady scent. I move closer, as if to kiss her again, and whisper. “See Murr kiss wife.”
Dakota whimpers. “Okay, I’m sold.”
She sets the shirt aside and puts her palms on my chest again, her breathing speeding up.
“I haven’t done this in ages,” she says. “I’m so nervous.”
“No ner-vus,” I tell her, lifting her wrist and kissing the soft inside of it. “Murr here. Murr protect.”
“I know.” Her voice is a mere breath. Her hand slides back down my stomach, towards the loin wrap again. “You always take care of me.”
I always will, too. I kiss her again, my fangs pulsing with the delicious, aching heat. The need to bite her urges again, but I want to savor this moment. I finally have my mate in my arms, and this time she is truly going to be my mate. Each moment needs to last forever, so I can fill my mind with the memories of this to plug the empty spots. I stroke my hand down her side, then back to her breasts.
And tug on the stretchy pink material that covers her. “What this?”
“It’s a bra. A sports bra.”
The material feels almost rubbery and bounces back when I pull on it. “Explain.”
“It holds my breasts in place.”
That sounds like a mate’s job. “Murr want hold. Yes?”
She laughs…but her laughter dies when I boldly cup one of her breasts, running my thumb over the tip. It stiffens against my touch, and Dakota’s breathing speeds up.
CHAPTER 62
MURR
The sounds Dakota makes when I touch her breasts are incredible. Her scent is everywhere, full of arousal and need, but still smelling uniquely like her—human. My fangs throb again, instinct reminding me that when I give her my bite, our scents will mix.
She will smell like she belongs to me.
The thought makes me growl with need. I bury my face in her breasts, pushing aside the strange band she calls a “sports bra” and reveling in her flesh. Her breasts are perfect, small handfuls with tight tips, and her skin is so soft that I rub my face against them, fascinated. I need these loose and free every day so I can touch her constantly.
Dakota moans, dragging my head towards the tip of one breast and arching her back to offer it to me. I mouth her nipple, waiting for her reaction. She makes another one of those delightful sounds, and I cup one breast in my hand as I nibble on the other.