Before she could protest, he got a comb from her night table and unwrapped the towel. Her hair spilled out, liquid silver in the firelight, so light and fine that it practically floated with static, half-damp and wild. With a little primitive thrill, he decided he would most likely kill anyone else who saw her like this.
“What are you doing?”
“Soothing you.” He didn’t say anything else about her lack of a gift. This was his way of comforting her and affirming their closeness. “I’ll be careful.”
Easier said than done, as there were lots of knots and snarls from their time in the wild, but she relaxed beneath his touch, eyes dropping half-closed as he worked on the tangles. He savored these moments with an intensity that skated so far past liking that the feeling must end somewhere in the hills of adoration. Eventually, the comb slid through her hair smoothly. Raff suppressed a quiver of a disappointment that he had no more reason to touch her.
“Is grooming normally part of the mate relationship in your pack?” she asked softly, as his hands fell away from her hair.
An interesting question, not one he’d considered before at length. “We don’t have a manual for such things. Each couple decides privately what works and suits them best.”
“Maybe it’s because of our long lifespans, but romantic pairings aren’t like this among my people,” she said.
“No?” That was an invitation to elaborate.
Thankfully, she took it. “Even sex and love are a game with power at stake. The one who cares more, gives more, loses more. Thus we strive not to reveal the true level of our desire or the real tenor of our yearning.”
“If you don’t ask for anything, you can never be denied.” That was one of the main reasons he’d never shown any sign how much it would mean to get his father’s, that crazy old wolf, approval for one of his own ideas, not one that came from Korin.
“Precisely. And if you make your lover beg, you win again.”
“Sounds terrible,” Raff said. “I hope you don’t intend to play those games with me.”
“There’s no point. I threw out the scorecard some time ago, even if I was initially inclined in that direction.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I can’t measure you, and I don’t want to.” There was no mistaking her honesty, evident in her soft voice and the clarity of her eyes, raised slowly to meet his.
“Well, my good wife, you’ll never need to plead with me for anything, except maybe an orgasm. I do like the pretty way you gasp and quiver when I’m holding you at the edge.”
She raised a pale hand to his face, her fingers light and cool on his cheeks, his brows, but the touch set him alight, no matter its delicacy. “Will you take me to bed now, husband? I’m not begging, mind. Only asking.”
23.
Thalia didn’t wait long for Raff’s answer. He was a man of action, as she’d already surmised, and he swept her into his arms, despite the bandage from where the bullet had recently been removed. She held on as he carried her to the bed. Compared to the bedroll they’d shared in Titus’s cabin, the soft linens seemed positively decadent. Her towel dropped when she slid under the covers, or more accurate to say she didn’t bother with it.
“Now then, we’re in bed,” Raff said. “What more did you have in mind? A cozy, comforting experience or something sweaty and seductive?”
“Can’t I have both? The latter, then the former seems ideal.”
“So you’d prefer a solid fucking with snuggles after? I like to be clear.”
Thalia smiled, finding the slope of his shoulder in the flickering firelight. His skin was always so warm, as if his body had a core of molten lava. “If you’re up to it. I don’t want to ask for more than you can readily provide.”
He scoffed. “Are you suggesting that these paltry injuries could incapacitate me?”
“More that I don’t want you to hurt because of me. Not even a little.”
His hard face softened into the sweetest smile she had ever seen, and it did funny things to her heart. “Then I’d say that if that’s true, you should do the work this time.”
Heat pooled low at the idea. “You’re giving yourself to me? For whatever I want.”
“Without hesitation. Do be gentle, though. As you noted, I’m still recovering.”
She could have said so many things, but the time for talking was done. Even through the sheet, she glimpsed his hardening cock; he was halfway there at the simple idea of giving himself to her. Time to surprise him.
Currently the sheet covered half of Raff’s chest and his lower body; Thalia left the pale fabric in place and started with a soft kiss behind his ear. He was about to learn why her people were said to possess legendary patience. A soft sound slipped out of him as he angled his head to give her better access, but she stayed right there for long moments, behind his ear—kissing, licking, and nuzzling—and when she finally shifted, it was to toy with his earlobe with gentle teeth.
Raff was already squirming, and she’d barely gotten started. He reached for her, but only to stroke her head in silent encouragement. “Who knew that would feel so good?” he whispered.
Smiling, she went for his throat next, but delicate and gentle, sucking lightly so that he arched his neck, and she watched his cock come to full bloom beneath the sheet. Thalia kissed him all over his face, pressing worshipful kisses to his brow, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, until his breath grew labored with the restraint he was exerting.
“Mouth, next?” she teased.
He lifted his bearded chin enough for an affirmative, letting her come the rest of the way to take his lips. She loved how his beard grazed her cheeks and jaw, another layer of sensation to contrast with the heat of his mouth. At first, she kept the contact chaste and fleeting,
