Emma’s POV
The fire has burned low, just embers glowing red, and we’re still tangled on the thick rug in front of it, sweaty and sated, Richard’s knot finally softening inside me. I’m draped over his chest, tracing lazy circles through the hair there, when a playful idea sparks.
I reach up, flick on the bedside lamp, and grab the steamy werewolf romance novel I hid under the pillow earlier.
Richard raises a brow, lips curving. “What are you doing?”
I grin, pushing him gently onto his back and straddling his thighs. “I want to read to you.”
He folds his arms behind his head, looking every inch the satisfied Alpha. “Rules?”
“Simple,” I say, opening the book. “I read. You keep your head between my thighs. I only turn the page when I come.”
“Deal.”
I clear my throat dramatically an
