Page 177 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

The tip of his tongue slips out through his parted teeth and drags tentatively across my lower lip, testing. Learning how to do something he can't do the way other people can.

His tongue is warm and slightly rough, and impossibly gentle. The tip traces the bow of my upper lip. When he reaches the corner of my mouth, he pauses, and I feel the barest scrape of his teeth against my skin.

He pulls back immediately.

"No," I breathe, grabbing the front of his shirt. "Don't stop."

The blue in his eyes flares.

I stretch up again, rising onto my toes, and this time I close the distance. I press my mouth against his teeth and I kiss them.

He makes a soft sound. Almost a growl, a surprised one, and his hands tighten on my face as his tongue finds my mouth again. Bolder this time. He licks across my lower lip and I part for him, his tongue sliding hesitantly against mine. This time, when his teeth graze my lip again, he doesn't pull away.

He tilts his head. Tries a different angle. Tries another one. His nose bumps mine and he pauses, tilting his head again, and when his tongue drags slow and deep against mine, my knees actually buckle.

He catches me.

The sound he makes when I stumble—this rough, startled grunt against my mouth—is so worried and so fucking cute I fist his shirt harder and kiss him through it.

I feel the rumble building in his chest before I hear it. The purr kicks in low and deep and spreads through my whole body like standing too close to a bass speaker.

His teeth graze my bottom lip and he jerks back immediately, a panicked sound caught in his throat. I chase him, rising higher on my toes, pulling him down by his shirt until his mouth is on mine again.

He's more careful after that. Too careful. Holding himself so still I feel the effort of it vibrating in his tense arms. So I slow down, too. Match his pace. Let him feel that there's no rush and nowhere else I'd rather be.

He figures that out fast.

We stay like that, kissing in the amber glow of his loft, his tongue learning my mouth, mine learning his.

When we finally break apart, my lips are swollen and tingling and I'm pretty sure I've forgotten how to breathe.

His forehead drops against mine and his dark lashes flutter shut. His scarred thumb strokes my cheekbone, back and forth, like he's making sure I'm still here.

"Fuck, you're a good kisser, Misha," I whisper.

His chest shakes with a silent, bewildered laugh. He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes completely warm and summer-sky blue without any shadows in them at all. One hand stays on my head and the other comes up to sign again.

His palm faces me, thumb, index finger, and little finger extended. His middle and ring fingers stay curled against his palm. The fingerspelled signs for I, L, and Y, all combined into one sign.

I love you.

I caress his face with one hand and form the same sign with my other, pressing it against his, our palms and fingers meeting.

I love you, too.

Chapter 36

Wraith

I… kissed her.

Or whatever the fuck I did.

I don't have a normal mouth. I don't have the anatomy for kissing in any recognizably human way. What I did was lick her mouth and press my teeth against her skin and hope to every god that exists and several that probably don't that it was enough.

She liked it, somehow.

My brain is stuck on that.