He pulls me close, his hands warm on my lower back. "Anything for our family."
The word ''family'' makes my chest ache. I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him. Arthur responds immediately, deepening the kiss as he walks me backward toward his bedroom. Our bedroom.
I almost consider telling him again, but once inside, I decide to focus on the present moment. On Arthur. On us. I step back and slowly unbutton my blouse, revealing thecy ck bra I put on this morning. Arthur''s eyes darken as they trace the delicate pattern against my skin,
"You''re killing me," he murmurs, reaching for me.
I let him pull me close again, his mouth hot against my neck. His hands slide down to cup my ass, and he groans when he discovers that I''m wearing matchingcy parties under my skirt.
"Goddess, Iris," he breathes against my skin.
He pushes me down onto the bed, following me down. His mouth travels from my neck to my corbone, then lower to the swell of my breasts above thece. I arch into him, my fingers threading through his hair.
Arthur''s hands are everywhere-sliding up my thighs, pushing my skirt higher, tracing the edge of my panties. When his fingers slip beneath thece, I gasp, my hips lifting off the bed.
"So wet already," he murmurs, his fingers exploring my opening.
I reach for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in my eagerness. Arthur helps me, shucking off his pants and boxers in one smooth motion. His shirt follows, and then he''s gloriously naked above me.
We join with a desperation that surprises me. Maybe it''s the lingering tension from earlier, or maybe it''s my guilt/ manifesting as an intense need. Either way, I lose myself in the sensation of Arthur''s body against mine, in the familiar rhythm we find together.
For a while, I forget everything else. Forget Caleb. Forget the secrets. Forget that I''m apparently a werewolf. There''s only Arthur and me, moving together, chasing that peak of pleasure.
But just as we''re finding our rhythm, something feels... off. A wetness that''s different from arousal. A cramping sensation low in my belly.
"Arthur, wait," I gasp, pushing at his broad shoulders.
He stops immediately, pulling back to look at me with concern. "What''s wrong?"
I shift slightly and feel it-the unmistakable sensation of my period starting. "Shit,” I mutter, mortified.
Arthur follows my gaze down to where we''re joined and sees the blood on his sheets. "Oh," he says simply.
I''m not sure why, but I half-expect him to be disgusted, to pull away in horror. Instead, he carefully withdraws and helps me sit up.
"I''m so sorry," I babble, my face burning with embarrassment. "I didn''t realize-l thought I had another week
"Hey, it''s okay," Arthur cuts me off, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "These things happen."
He grabs some tissues from the nightstand and helps me clean up, then strips the sheets off the bed. "I''ll throw these in the wash," he says, bundling up the stained sheets. "You want to take a shower?"
I nod, still mortified. While I''m in the bathroom, I hear him moving around, putting fresh sheets on the bed.
When I emerge, wrapped in a towel, he hands me a pair of his clean boxers and one of his t-shirts.
"These should be more confortable," he says with a gentle smile.
I change quickly, grateful for his thoughtfulness. The boxers are soft and loose, much better than my ruinedcy panties. When I climb back into bed, Arthur pulls me close, spooning me from behind.
"I''m really sorry," I whisper again.
"Stop apologizing," he murmurs against my hair. "It''s natural. Nothing to be embarrassed about."
His kindness makes the guilt surge up again like bile in my throat. Here he is again, being the perfect partner, the perfect father, handling everything with such grace. And I''m lying to him. Keeping this massive secret about who I really am.
I want to tell him I really do.
But just as I''m opening my mouth to finally say the words, look over and find that Arthur is fast asleep.
No interesting of all