Lewis jerked his hand back fast, almost wolf-instinct fast
and I stayed exactly where I was, lips parted, breath stuck in my chest.
I could still feel his taste on my tongue, warm and faintly metallic, carrying the subtle scent of his wolf.
His fingers were long and elegant, like the hands of a man who once played instruments…
but they weren't soft.
There were calluses on them rough patches from years of training, working, or pushing the wheels of his chair.
So when my tongue touched him, it wasn't smooth.
It was textured.
Real.
My face caught fire.
"S-sorry! I didn't mean to it was just instinct."
"It's fine."
His voice was calm… but his neck was not.
His pale skin usually cool and untouched by sunlight was turning red.
From the tips of his ears… down his throat… disappearing into the collar of his shirt.
My gaze stuck there longer than it should have.
I wondered before I could stop myself
Would the rest of him turn red this easily?
No. No. Stop thinking.
