Werewolf fairytales

Did She just

*Paisley*

From my first night in Pomeroy Castle, I have lied awake in bed and imagined Theo’s kisses. They won’t be like Rodney’s slavering invasions, I decided. And yet… I couldn’t imagine what they will be like. What if he thrusts his tongue into my mouth, the way Rodney did? Any tongue in my mouth, other than my own, would be disgusting. I know it.

But now Theo kisses me lightly, just a brush of his lips. A jerk of fire goes straight down my body, through my middle. I raise my arms and wind them around his neck. His lips are firm and not at all wet… so how on earth can such a simple motion make me feel so hot and needy?

For a few moments, I can’t help wondering when he’s going to push his tongue between my lips, and what I will feel if he does. But instead, he simply stands there in the dark nursery, his head bent to mine, his mouth brushing mine, over and over.

Gradually I forget my worries; besides, my attention is caught by his hands, roaming over my back, sliding lower, shaping me. Soon enough I can think of nothing but the mesmerizing sensation of his touch; it makes me feel quite odd. I shiver and try to move closer to his warmth.

His lips slip from mine and dust along the line of my jaw, down the curve of my neck, leaving a little trail of fire everywhere they touch.

He smells so good, I think in a daze. What must he taste like? Impulsively, I open my mouth and taste him, my tongue sneaking out to touch the hard line of his jaw.

A rough sound comes from Theo’s lips, and he turns his face to mine. “Darling,” he says, his voice a husky thread in the silence.

I press even closer, molding my body to his muscles. I am dimly aware that his hair has fallen from its ribbon, and I reach up, running my fingers through the loose strands. The touch feels almost as intimate as kissing.

His tongue runs along my lips, and then he breathes, “Kiss me back, Paisley. Please.” I open my mouth. It is as natural as breathing, as turning my face up to the sunshine. Theo’s kiss isn’t about invasion. It is about the taste of him, and the taste of me, and the way our bodies are trembling against each other.

A groan tears from his throat, then he is kissing me harder than Rodney ever did, so ruthlessly that I can only hold on, helpless in the firestorm that shoots down my legs.

Yet I remain aware enough to know that I’m not alone in that storm; Theo’s large hands are trembling as they slide down my back, rounded onto my bottom, and pull me up and against his body. Which isn’t a bit like Rodney’s doughy anatomy. In fact, he doesn’t feel in the least like Rodney…

It is Theo who pulls back, Theo who steps away, leaving me trying to catch my breath. His chest is heaving too, and I can see the wildness in his eyes. I have never felt more feminine, more desired, and more powerful, in my life.

“I can’t marry you,” he says, low and fierce. “You’re a ranked she-wolf. I cannot marry you.”

“I haven’t asked you to,” I rejoin, my voice catching.

I have to stop him before he says anything, before he says he regrets kissing me. “Good night,” I whisper, pushing my hair back from my face.

Theo steps forward, his hands reaching toward me as if he can’t stop himself. I turn quickly and walk to my bedchamber door, pausing to glance over my shoulder.

He is gazing after me, just as I thought… and hoped… he would be.

“I just want to point out,” I say, “that not only am I in the service of your brother, but I gave away my most prized possession, my chastity. As anyone in polite society would confirm, a she-wolf in my situation could never marry a gentleman.”

Then, before he can respond, I whisk myself through the door. Because… Because I have, for all intents and purposes, just asked him to marry me.

And if that isn’t enough to disqualify me as a she-wolf of quality, I don’t know what would.