She gulped. The thin material of her jeans was no match for the heat of his palms. “Seriously,” she said. Her voice thickened.
“Yeah,” Caidrik said. “Ask me to stop.”
He slipped a hand beneath her sweater and trailed the backs of his fingers up over her breast.
She gasped.
He caught the center of her bra and yanked her toward him, kissing her hard. His mouth was a little cold from outside. She sank into him, kissing him back, her whole body on fire.
His hand slid lower, into her panties, and he pressed a finger inside her, brushing his thumb across her clit. She sucked in air and widened her thighs. He leaned back just enough to speak, his mouth still brushing hers. “Tell me to stop.”
A ruckus sounded outside, but she couldn’t move. She wanted him to continue. To never stop. How did he do this to her?
“Caidrik,” Bussy called. “Are you in there?”
“I’m waiting,” he whispered.
“Oh, good lord,” Nadia breathed. “Stop.” She grabbed his hand.
He chuckled and removed it. “Then don’t do that again, Nadia. Understand?”
She was going to kick him as soon as she got her pants zipped.
“I’m in here, Bussy,” Caidrik called out. “What’s going on?”
“Well, honey,” Bussy’s voice came through loud and clear, “I believe your mother is here.”
Chapter 17
Caidrik helped Nadia to her feet and finished zipping up her jeans before she could reach for the zipper herself. His movements were brisk and controlled, more about restoring order than modesty. Then he turned and strode out of the sunroom, cutting through the house without looking back.
What in the world was his mother doing there?
He pushed through the front door and stepped onto the porch. Cold air bit at his skin immediately, sharp and clean. Frost dusted the edges of the steps and clung to the railing. He scanned the area, already knowing what he would see.
She stood on the sidewalk looking as beautiful as ever.
“Hi, Mom,” he said.
Helena McGregor waited beneath the bare winter trees, flanked by two enforcers who had not aged a day since his childhood. She wore a long scarlet gown that brushed the pavement and a heavy coat that looked like fur. As a wolf shifter, it probably wasn’t real, but with his mother, one never assumed anything. Her posture was relaxed, shoulders back, chin lifted. She had never learned how to enter a place quietly.
“Hello, dear,” she said.
Nadia came up beside him without hesitation. Her head tilted as she took in the scene, curiosity written all over her face.
Caidrik sighed. “Nadia Hodge,” he said, “please meet my mother, Helena McGregor. Mother, this is Nadia Hodge from the Nightsom lineage.”
“Hi,” Helena said, her tone bright and energetic. Her thick dark hair had been piled high on her head in an elegant twist. A few strands had escaped and softened the severity of her face. Her deep brown eyes sparkled with sharp intelligence and something that looked suspiciously like delight. “It’s so lovely to meet you.”
“You as well.” Nadia hurried down the steps and offered her hand. “Please come inside. It’s cold out here.”
“I’d be delighted.” Helena cut him a glance of approval. She must’ve liked the look of Nadia.
The two women climbed the steps together and entered the house as if they had known each other for years. Caidrik watched them go, then dragged in a slow breath through his nose and fought the very real urge to shift and run straight into the forest. “Frank. Albert.”
Both males nodded. They were ancient by wolf standards and had flanked his mother since his father’s death. Their presence alone had ended more than one confrontation without a word being spoken.
“You two want to come inside?” he asked.
