A rogue smile breaks out over my face, completely twisting the shame that had been spiraling through me until it winks out of existence. I lick my lips. His gaze flutters down to them. I inhale deeply. His gaze flutters down to my breasts.
“Yeffa.”
His expression hardens, eyes snapping back to mine. I can hear the sound of his fingertips scraping over the hard wood on either side of my head.
And then I whisper, “But only for the right male.” I hope he hears the implication that I’m too much of a coward to voice as a demand. I hope he hears my need.
I think he does, because his face morphs into a mask of shock, but he recovers quickly. Pressing his entire body forward slightly so that we’re separated by little more than my forearm’s length, his heat washes over me.
“Just for one male?”
“Yeffa. Just for one male.”
He chokes and comes forward a little more, to the point that I lose focus on his face and look at his chest instead. I have to clench my palms around my scar in order to stop from touching him. A female must wait for permission before touching the male… Ohr that.
I slide my palm over his pectoral, smoothing over the flat, dark brown nipple.
He bends down and growls in my ear, “But Essmira, would you not rather be a mate?”
“A mate?”
“Yeffa. A mate.”
My fingers slide down…down… “I don’t know anything about that.” I touch the top of his pants, fingers so dangerously close to the single strap that holds them up on his narrow hips. So close, I could just…pull it.
He sucks in a breath, his eyelids fluttering over his striated eyes. So many colors. So many layers. Not unlike the male himself. “Would you like to?”
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