Ella
At first I think Sinclair is angry, but then his lips part in a lethal grin and a growling laugh vibrates in his chest. He slides his hand over my cheek and around my nape, tangling his fingers in my wet hair. “Do you know what it means, to top from the bottom, little wolf?” He inquires ominously, his thumb massaging my neck in steady circles.
“No.” I reply, shifting nervously from foot to foot. His demeanor is so predatory, so foreboding, and I know I’ve miscalculated in my attempt to hurry him up.
“It’s when you try to get your own way by provoking or manipulating me, using reverse psychology.” He explains darkly, “It’s an attempt to take control from your Alpha, your mate, without them realizing you’re doing it.” Sinclair prowls forward, and I instinctively retreat, moving back
