Mor liked the way his pants hung loosely at his hips once she'd gotten the buttons off. She made an impatient growling sound in the back of her throat when he pushed her towards the bed, palming at him through the layers of fabric that still separated them. Goosebumps rose on her thighs and arms, not because she was cold, but because of the feeling of Brooks' hands and body touching hers.

Mor moved her hands up to his abdomen and chest, letting her fingernails scrape against his flesh. Feeling almost mischievous, she brought her mouth to his collarbone and started to suck and bite his skin — she had a feeling that she'd have bruises the next day from him, but two could play at that game.

"I want to make you wild," Mor whispered against Brooks' skin. Maybe that was why she was doing this, as much as anything — she wanted to see him where she imagined herself, as something feral.