He makes a noise that's more a growl than anything else. "Nina," he says, sounding pained as he takes a few steps closer, as though drawn to her. He licks his lips. His pupils are so dark that she feels like she's staring into an abyss when she looks at him. His eyes zero in on her being, devouring her.
There is an air of danger around him that makes her sink back into the couch, though she is far from running. She tilts her head back, exposing the smooth arch of her neck, a show of submission to the wolf inside him.
She is sure that he is growling now, arousal and want clear in the sound he makes and the way he is stalking towards her.
The coffee table blocks his path and he is stunned when his shins meets the edge of it. The pain jolts him back to his sense. "You are drunk," he says,
