Closing his eyes, he dropped his forehead to hers, his large hands smoothing her hair. Then, he kissed her, not with passion or heat or need, but with tenderness. Feather-light, he brushed his lips across hers before he opened and, as if having all the time in existence, stroked her tongue. A caress. An unhurried narrative of patience and acceptance and some kind of deeper meaning she couldn't quite grasp.
Unsure whether to weep or sigh, she cupped his cheeks and held him pressed against her in a way that seemed much more intimate than the act they'd just finished. He could be such a contradiction that he left her reeling. Never harsh, forever observant, sometimes shy, often commanding, rarely indifferent, and alwaysalwaysconsiderate. Alpha and beta. Dominant and submissive.
He pulled away, holding her face, staring into her eyes. His mouth opened as if to say something, but he dragged his thumb across her lower lip like he wanted to pull words from her instead.
"What's wrong?"