Lennox’s POV

Her legs were spread on the bed, her nightgown bunched at her waist, her fingers buried deep inside her pussy… I froze. For a heartbeat. I forgot how to breathe. She didn’t see me. Didn’t hear me. Her eyes were shut tight, her lips parted as another soft, sinful moan slipped past them. Her free hand tugged at her nipple, rolling it between her fingers, her body arching like she was chasing something—someone—invisible.

My throat went dry. My entire body tensed, heat flooding through me like a fuse had been lit. My cock jerked and my wolf howled in pleasure. She looked wild. Untamed. Beautiful. And mine.

She moaned again, louder this time—Yes!… The sound shattered what little control I had left.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” I growled, stepping fully into the room and slamming the door shut behind me.

She gasped and shot up, eyes flying open, cheeks flushing a deep red as she scrambled to pull the covers over herself—but it was too late. I’d seen everything.

I stalked toward the bed, breath ragged, pulse hammering in my neck. “So this is who you’re talking about?” I demanded, my voice thick with desire and fury. “The one who worships you? Whose mouth moans for you? It was your fingers all along, Olivia?”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

“Get out,” she whispered, breathless, yanking the covers over her body.

“No.”

“Lennox—” Her voice was a warning, but it cracked halfway through, too shaken to carry strength.

I stalked forward, slow and controlled, like a predator. She tried to slide off the bed, but I was faster. My hand grabbed the covers and ripped them away. “You should’ve called me,” I growled, gaze raking over her flushed skin. “I’m your husband. You need satisfaction? You come to me.”

“You have no right to barge in here,” she snapped.

I took a slow, deliberate step forward. “I have every right. I’m your husband.”

“That’s just a title,” she hissed. “It means nothing to me.”

I frowned and climbed onto the bed. “Lennox, don’t—” she started, but the words died in her throat when I grabbed the edge of her thin nightgown and tore it straight down the middle. The fabric split like paper, revealing every inch of her bare, trembling body.

“You think I’ll walk away after seeing this?” I muttered, voice thick with need. “You wanted to provoke me. You wanted a reaction. Well, sweetheart—you’ve got it.”

She gasped as I pushed her gently but firmly back onto the bed, her legs falling open in surrender. I slid my hand between her thighs, feeling how wet she was—how ready. “So wet, and yet you didn’t call me. Why?” I asked darkly, leaning down to nip at the side of her throat. “Afraid I’d give you more than you could handle?”

She didn’t speak. Her breath came in shaky pants, her body trembling beneath me.

“Too late now,” I murmured against her skin. “Because I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to. And next time you need release, you won’t even think of touching yourself without begging me first.”

And with that, I slid my fingers inside her, slowly, deliberately. Her eyes widened as I slid my fingers into her pussy, teasing her folds. She trembled under my touch, and when I eased a finger inside her—slowly, carefully—I froze. Still tight. Still untouched.

A wave of relief crashed over me so hard I nearly groaned aloud. She hadn’t given herself to anyone else. My Olivia was still a virgin. “You’re still mine,” I muttered, more to myself than her.

She squirmed, torn between resisting and surrendering. “Lennox…”

I didn’t let her finish. I dropped to my knees at the edge of the bed, dragging her hips to the edge with a growl of possession. Her legs parted for me on instinct, and I took my time, staring up at her as I kissed the inside of her thigh, slow and heated.

“You should’ve called me,” I whispered against her skin. “This is my duty.”

Then I buried my face between her thighs. She gasped—one hand flying to the sheets, the other gripping the headboard as I tasted her slowly, deliberately, taking my time like I had all night to worship her. I wanted her to feel every stroke of my tongue. Every flick, every gentle suck. I wanted to erase any memory she’d ever tried to build without me.

Her moans filled the room—soft at first, then louder, breathier, until she couldn’t stop them. She was shaking, gasping my name now, over and over, her hips lifting from the bed to meet my mouth. My tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes—exploring, learning her, worshipping her. I wanted her to feel everything. Every flick. Every curl. Every maddening moment of patience I poured into every stroke.

She moaned a soft, broken sound that sent fire rushing through my veins. Her hands fisted the sheets, and then one found my hair, trembling fingers tightening just slightly. I groaned softly against her, the sound unintentional but real. She tasted like a dream I didn’t know I had until I was living it.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” I muttered, barely lifting my mouth. “Sweet…and mine.” Then I flattened my tongue and dragged it up slowly, savoring her, curling around that sensitive spot and sucking harder this time. Her back arched and her fingers pulled tighter in my hair. Her voice was a whimper. “Lennox—”

I growled softly, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest, vibrating through her, and she shattered. Just like that. She came with a gasp, her body clenching, trembling in my arms as I held her through it, never stopping.

I kissed her thighs gently as her body went slack, her breathing erratic, her eyes glazed with the high of pleasure. When I finally lifted my head, my mouth still wet with her taste, I looked at her like she was the only thing that existed. Because right now—she was.

I crawled up her body slowly, pressing soft kisses to her skin on the way. Her heartbeat thundered against her ribs, and when I reached her face, I cradled her cheek in my hand. “You were made for me,” I whispered, my lips brushing hers. “Every part of you.”

I tried to kiss her, but suddenly, she pushed me off her with a strength I never imagined she had.