And Drake was trying to do it.
If I let him take even an inch more control, he would have climbed onto that bed without shame. He would have pressed his head to her stomach or her thigh and started purring, low and steady, until her pulse evened out. He would have licked the silver burns, nosed her hands, wrapped himself around her like a living barricade and dared anyone in this building to step closer.
Not to mark her.
Not to own her.
To calm her.
To tell her she was safe.
The fact that he wasn’t trying to dominate her, wasn’t trying to assert himself over her anger, but instead was desperate to soothe her, to steady her breathing, to quiet the spike in her heart rate—that hit somewhere so deep I had to swallow hard to keep my composure.
Because that meant this wasn’t something I’
