And then my orgasm starts to fade, and reality starts to set in again, and I open my eyes.
He’s beside me on the bed now, looking at me, and he smiles.
“You look beautiful when you come,” he whispers.
Then he kisses me, and I taste myself on his lips. He kisses me again and again and again, and then he kisses me a little bit more.
Chapter Six
Jace
There’s something completely unbelievable about this woman.
Despite the fact that she basically ran away from an angry group of murderers, she’s still holding herself together. She might be scared, and she might be tired from running, but she managed to protect my child and bring him to safety.
In my book, that’s more than I could possibly ask for.
Now I’m kissing her like she’s all I need. I’m kissing her like I’m going to die if I stop. With Polly, I can’t seem to get enough. Watching her come was so damn hot. I don’t know if my cock can handle much more of this little vixen. Maybe it’s because I’ve been locked away for so long. I’ve been isolated for months up here in the wilderness. When she stumbled onto my porch, I didn’t expect her. I didn’t expect any of this.
Now?
Now I wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into because I don’t know if this is something I could possibly walk away from.
“Jace,” she murmurs against my lips.
“Yes, baby?” I whisper.
“I want you.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to taste you,” she says. She pushes me away and I lie back on the bed. Well, isn’t this interesting? Polly is a lot bolder than I gave her credit for. She’s a little wilder. She’s brave and she’s the kind of woman who goes after what she wants.
I love that.
In fact, it’s really, really, hot.
Polly sits up and kneels beside me. She looks down at me on the bed and starts touching me. She goes slowly at first. She cups my cheeks and traces her fingers down my necks, over my shirt, and down my arms. When she gets to the hem of my shirt, she tugs. She pushes it up so she can look at me.
And oh, Polly looks.
The way she’s looking at me should make me feel bad. It should make me feel totally, completely objectified. It should make me feel horrible and dirty and wrong. It should make me feel like I’m a very bad man.
But it doesn’t.
She bites her lip like she can’t get enough. The image shoots straight to my dick and again, I’m even harder. It takes all of my strength to hold still as she looks at me and touches me.
“These abs,” she murmurs. “Do you work out?”
“More than you might think.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure, you know.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t sure if it was a shifter thing,” she says. “Like, if shifters have incredible bodies naturally or if you’re like humans.”
“You mean, you want to know if I have to work to look like this?”