<b>Chapter </b><b>81 </b>
“You look… free,” I called out, surprised by the smile in my voice.
He circled back,ing closer, brushing against my legs as he passed. The contact was gentle, controlled–a request for eptance, not a demand. Iughed, the sound startling in its genuine joy. My hand reached out, stroking along his back, feeling the power in the muscles beneath my fingertips.
When he approached again<b>, </b>sitting before me with those intelligent eyes fixed on mine, something shifted inside me. The fear waspletely gone, reced by a different kind of tension–a pull toward connection that <b>I </b>couldn’t exin.
“I want to feel our connection better,” I said, lowering myself to sit on the grass. My heart raced, but not from fear<b>. </b>“<b>To </b>really sense our bond.”
Dominic watched me, his gaze intense. I realized we weremunicating without words, through emotions and instinct. The raw honesty of it made me shiver.
<b>I </b>reached for the zipper of my dress<b>, </b>slowly drawing it down. The cooling air touched my skin. “This helps <b>us </b>sense each other better, doesn’t it?”
Dominic’s eyes widened slightly. He backed away, disappearing behind the oak tree. When he emerged momentster in human form<b>, </b></divpletely naked, my mouth went dry. His body was all lean muscle and strength, <b>scars </b>marking his skin here and there–evidence of battles fought and won. His eyes burned with an intensity that made heat pool low
in my belly.
He walked toward me with that fluid grace he always possessed, now amplified without the constraints of clothing or social expectations. The raw masculinity of him made my breath quicken.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said, his voice deeper than usual, roughened with desire. He knelt beside me on the grass, one handing up to trace the line of my jaw. His fingers were warm against my skin, slightly
calloused.
I leaned into his touch, my body responding immediately. When his lips met mine, the kiss was different from any we’d shared before–more honest, more hungry. His tongue slid against mine, and I moaned into his mouth<b>, </b>my hands finding their way to his shoulders.
His hands moved to my dress, pushing it down my shoulders with careful movements. The cool evening air touched <b>my </b>exposed skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Dominic’s eyes darkened as he looked at me, his breathing bing heavier.
“<b>Are </b><b>you </b><b>sure</b><b>?</b>” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of control. I could see the tension in his <b>jaw</b>, in <b>the </b><b>way </b>his hands trembled slightly <b>as </b>they hovered above my skin.
<b>12:12 </b><b>Mon</b>, <b>Sep </b><b>22 </b>
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<b>“</b>Yes,” I nodded, reaching for him. “I’ve never been more sure.”
He guided me down onto the soft grass. I pushed against his chest, wanting to take control, and he allowed it, a sh of surprise and approval crossing his features as I straddled him. His hands found my hips, strong fingers digging into my flesh as I positioned myself above him.
When our bodies joined, I gasped at the intensity <b>of </b>it. Here, in this sacred ce, every sensation was heightened. I could feel him inside me, filling mepletely.
I began to move, setting my own pace. Dominic’s eyes never left mine, his gaze so intense it was almost ufortable. His hands on my hips guided but didn’t control, his fingers flexing with each movement.
“Reba, he groaned, my name a prayer on his lips. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his muscles tense with restraint.
When we approached our peak, I felt his body tense beneath me. His head moved toward my neck, drawn to the spot where wolves mark their mates. For a moment, I thought he would bite me, im me fully as his own. Part of me wanted him to.
But instead, he pressed his lips to my forehead, fighting his own instinct. The gesture–his choice to respect my autonomy–pushed me over the edge. I cried out, my body clenching around him as pleasure washed through me. Dominic followed momentster, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise as he groaned my name.
Afterward, wey together on the grass, his body warm against mine despite the cooling evening air. His fingers traced the curve of my neck, lingering on the spot where a mark would go. The touch was feather–light but loaded with meaning.
‘I almost couldn’t control myself,” he admitted, his voice low and rough against my ear. His breath was warm on my skin.
I turned to look at him<b>, </b>catching the tension still evident in the tight line of his jaw. “You wanted to mark me, didn’t you?”
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