Henry complies and Merrick’s muscular arm flexes as he hooks it around one of Henry’s legs and lifts. He slides his slick fingers farther back. “Not the best angle, but I can make it work,” Merrick murmurs. Henry grunts, and I realize Merrick’s aim—which I should have when I asked for this. My skin ignites over my entire body and I can hardly breathe. Has Henry ever allowed anything like that?
