[ unwelcome bitterness springs to his mouth at the question. did ash send him? but of course she would wonder, because ash has sent him before. correction: embry volunteered, because he hates himself that fucking much, and loves ash more than anything. it'd been a chance to see greer again, so of course he'd stuck a knife in his heart and let himself be the messenger.

his hand is at the top of her thigh now, well beneath her dress to the shadowed part between her legs. when she doesn't stop him, doesn't push him away, he presses his fingertips to the scrap of fabric that separates him from her cunt. ]

If he did — [ he strokes gently, back and forth, until dampness touches his fingers. ] Would that change things? If I'm supposed to get you and bring you to him, and not lay a finger on you —

[ he looks up at her, his lust barely concealed in the icy haze of his eyes, his other hand pulling at the slit of her dress to bare her legs. ]

I want to put my mouth on you.