Ruth's Bonded (Ruth & Gron Book 1) by V.C. Lancaster

about survival. He might be
misinterpreting her actions, but he’d figure it out when nothing happened. At
this point, she was ready to back him into a corner if she had to. Chasing him
around the cell would keep her warm at least. She didn’t think he’d really
attack her, and she wasn’t afraid of him anymore.
    Ruth reached for his hand again, a
little faster. Not snatching, but not obviously giving him the opportunity to
pull away either. She got him this time, but he didn’t seem to be pulling away.
The fur on the back of his hand felt strange under her palm. It was coarse and
thick, but his fingers and palm were just like a human man’s. He said something
to her, and it sounded important, but she didn’t know how to react. He could
have been saying anything. He was looking at her like he was asking her to do
something, or not to do it, without any hope of getting his way. Well, engaging
in a taboo would probably get a reaction like that.
    She moved closer, lifting his arm and
turning her back to his chest. He was so warm. She could feel the heat coming
off him and she wasn’t even skin-to-skin with him, the tips of the fur on his
chest were only tickling her back. She pulled his arm around to lay it on her
stomach. It was heavy and bulked up with muscle. Gron wasn’t holding her,
barely even touching her except where she positioned him, but he didn’t pull
away. Ruth sighed as his warmth slowly soaked into her, relaxing her tense
muscles and just letting her know another person was there . Gron said
something again, sounding choked.
    “I know, big guy,” she murmured back
to soothe him. “I know you don’t want to do this, but just a little longer
please...” Oh yeah, she could definitely sleep like this. She felt cruel forcing
him, but she wasn’t going to have sex with him, and if Mrs Gron got pissed, he
could just tell her it was necessary to keep Ruth going.
    She let herself slip back against
him, and he moaned, followed by some more grunting words. Maybe she had it
wrong, and he was actually like a celibate monk, and she was testing his vows
or something. But she didn’t think she was turning him on because there was
nothing poking her and his arm was still totally lax around her waist. He
wasn’t trying for a feel at all. He was probably just disgusted by her - small,
bald, tail-less human that she was – and manfully enduring her to be nice until
he could get away. She’d take it. He was like a fur rug in front of a fireplace
and she was the cat right now. She stroked his forearm absently, running her
nails through the fur, and he shuddered.
    She opened her eyes again, knowing
she should disengage from him and leave him in peace, but she didn’t want to
leave the warm for the cold. At least she’d stopped shaking now and felt strong
enough emotionally to take care of herself for a bit. She lifted his arm off
her stomach and peeled herself away. She smiled back at him. He looked confused
and a little stunned.
    “Thanks,” she said. “I feel better
now.”
    He grumbled and lurched forward, as
if he’d been meaning to follow her then been struck by uncertainty.
    Now she was unsure. Did he want to
keep cuddling? Maybe he got something out of it after all. She smiled, and held
out her hand as a test. If he wanted to hold her some more, she might actually
be able to sleep. He looked at her hand, then took it, almost as if touch had
never been a problem for him. She grinned. She moved closer again and gently
nudged him so that he would lie down with his back against the wall, then she
lay down with her back against his chest. She picked up his arm and draped it
over her waist, then gently shifted her weight so that she was leaning on him,
and he was leaning on the wall.
    “Okay?” she asked, looking over her
shoulder at him. He rumbled something and lightly brushed the hair away from
her face and neck. She jumped when something fluffy crawled over her hip,
having forgotten that he had that