“Can he touch you?” I hear myself ask in a whisper and, I swear, behind that lion tamer’s mask, I see a glint flash in Merrick’s blue eyes—of shock or excitement, I can’t tell. Henry’s hips slow, lose their rhythm. “Is that what you want to see?” he asks with ragged breaths. He’s close to coming. I hesitate. “Just once.” Just like I agreed to that time in the grotto with Margo, even though I don’t crave women. I want to know that Henry will bend for me as readily as I bend for him. “Fuck,” he curses, then swallows hard. “Just this once. And only because it’s him.”
