She was nonetheless wearing her leggings.
Reaching round her, he took the ends of the laces in each fingers and snapped them with a quick growl. Diane sucked in, but Tryson was cautious to be mild as he slid his hands down her sides, beneath the waistband, and pushed them down till they puddled at her ankles.
"Get onto the bed. Don't flip around."
He smelled the spike of her desire—laced with the tiniest contact of unease. Swallowing back the Alpha within him that used to be snarling for release, he put both fingers to the hollow of her waist as she crawled up onto the bed, supporting raise her onto the bed that was once greater than her hip.
Once she had her knees on the furs, she started to turn, but he caught her. "No, continue to be there," he croaked.
Diane , on all fours, regar
