I’d woken only about an hour ago, Gemini’s warm, naked body curled against mine firing a need that required some serious quenching. So I buried my face in his lap to stir him from sleep.
Most women would have just said good morning, or nudged their partners ever so lovingly.
But I wasn’t most women.
Yeah, and you’re welcome, baby.
Gemini slowed his deep thrusts, grunting hard as he finished, his face scrunched in what appeared to be pain. But that wasn’t pain, was it? Nope, not at all. He was simply reacting to how good it felt to join his body with mine. I nibbled my way along his neck, leaving marks that faded from one bite to the next until I reached his earlobe and tugged. “Mornin’, sexy,” I whispered.
He growled something I didn’t quite understand. I didn’t speak a word of wolf, yet that deep snarl was as good as the dirty talk we’d exchanged during sex.
I laughed. Okay, maybe it wasn’t as good as those naughty words. Yet a growl from a werewolf in his human form was a rare kind of hot few women would know.
I continued to straddle Gemini as he effortlessly carried us from the center of the room, where we’d made love standing up, and back to our bed. The gentle way in which he kissed me was in direct contrast to our wicked sex, and to the male most saw.
My lover was the second in command of the Tahoe region’s Squaw Valley Den Pack—intelligent, fierce, capable of crushing skulls, quietly confident, and with fighting skills few weres possessed.
Not to mention he was hotter than the power I generated with my magic.
All large anatomical parts and good looks aside, Gemini was . . . kind. When you trash-talked, and entered a room like you owned it like I did, it attracted a certain caliber of men. The kind that made me grateful I could protect myself with fire and lightning.
Men could be cruel, and dangerous. I knew that better than most. But unlike those men I’ve known in my past, I trusted Gemini.