cold chill, a creeping icy thing, scratched down Claire’s spine. She was wise enough to grasp that for the Alpha, fear was something long ago conquered and not at all welcome. To know she’d inspired it was unnerving.
His grim honesty continued. “I desired very intensely to alleviate the pain displayed in your photograph. I was even impressed with how unfailingly brave you were to do such a thing, though I abhorred it.”
Claire’s attention went to her plate; she felt like weeping and didn’t know why.
Her lack of words did not alter the undeniable tone in the thread. The connection was normalizing, vibrating, and creeping deeper. Before there might be anymore courtship rituals , before there might be a greater consequence, Claire stacked their cleared plates, ready to get her duty over with.
“Did you enjoy our meal?”
She nodded, even thanked him politely, hearing his instant purr when Shepherd’s eyes flashed at her praise. The feel of his hand on her arm, the long stroke of light fingers, stopped her movement. She watched, stunned, as the man lifted her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed it.
Slightly hoarse, Claire admitted, “I am not entirely sure where I should begin.”
He held her gaze, lightly flicked his tongue against her sensitive palm. “You could touch me.”
The worst calamities that befall an army arise from hesitation. -Sun Tzu
Her entire strategy centered on action, on pushing boundaries between them, on growing stronger as she sought out his weaknesses. There could be no room for hesitation if she wanted to gain ground.
Resting a hip on the table, Claire did as he suggested. He wanted to be touched, so that’s what she did. She traced his jaw and nose, ran her fingertips over his lips as he had done so often to her. Next, she stroked down the back of his neck, kneading the flesh he’d once claimed caused him pain.
Shepherd turned his head up to her, his mercurial eyes watching with such intensity Claire found her gaze rested far more comfortably on the Alpha’s broad shoulders.
Keeping her mind separate from how familiar his body had become, Claire tried to approach it clinically, unsure if she was doing well. When a large hand came to rest on her hip, she took his touch as encouragement to continue. Her palms flowed over his arms from shoulder to wrist and back again, forming to the contours of honed muscle and absolute strength. She reached around his back to lightly scratch her nails over the broad expanse of flesh.
He liked that. His breath hitched, and Shepherd made little grunts and groans as she traced his spine.
When his purr grew husky, she rose from her perch and took his hand so he could stand from the chair and she could continue. With his great height, there was a shift in power, Shepherd suddenly so much taller.
Her uncertainty returned.
Timid, Claire’s hands went to his belt.
Shepherd took her lowered chin, brought her face up so she might see the contented expression on his. “You are doing well.”
His voice was gently encouraging, those expressive silver eyes liquid. Claire assumed he wanted her to continue, and licked her lips, trying to seek out the fastening of his pants. Fumbling, she pulled down his zipper and eased the fabric from his hips. Shepherd stepped out of his remaining clothes and stood naked under her touch.
When the Alpha made no move, Claire understood she was expected to continue.
Her hands found a path from his thighs, near his groin, and across the hard planes of his stomach. She nosed his chest, and pulled in his scent exactly as she once imagined she would do with the husband she’d hoped for all her life. Holding on to the comfort of that fantasy, she put the conjured image in Shepherd’s place, and pressed closer, breathing in the smell of his excitement.
The fabricated man in her mind loved her, he honored her; he believed she was more than just an Omega.
It was so much easier to stroke and hum as her imagination
Jeremy Robinson, David McAfee