“Take me home?” The words were barely audible as her voice cracked.
“I’m not fucking Uber.”
Why would he …
“Oh, no.” She cleared her throat. “I mean take me home … with you.” When his eyes shot up to hers with what she thought was horror, she wanted to recoil.
“Look, if you’re chasing a patch, mine can’t be caught.”
Carys wasn’t sure, but from what she’d read, he thought she was trying to trap him.
“No strings, just um, scratching an itch.” To lighten the mood, she added with a touch of humor she didn’t feel. “I promise I won’t call you in the morning.”
God, his eyes had a gravitational pull. She felt herself leaning closer.
Her mission, her mother, her father, Kansas, everything faded into the background, everything but his spicy whiskey and woodsy scent. No matter what tomorrow may bring, or the fury from her father, she had to know what he tasted like.
One night of pleasure. One night that was about her. Just one, then she’d get back on track. Of course, seducing Kansas as her father wanted would be off the table if she did that. Who was she kidding? It was off the table when she wasn’t what he wanted her to be.
Monster’s hard eyes flicked behind her. When Carys turned to see what had diverted his attention, she saw Kansas give Monster two thumbs-up with his arms slung around the two girls from earlier.
Apparently, that was the encouragement Monster needed. One hand shot out, lightning-fast, and gripped her throat, demanding her undivided attention. He stared into her eyes as if he were looking for something. He must’ve found it because he dropped his lips to her so violently it ground her tender skin into her teeth. Before she could peel them back, he's ended the brutal kiss.
Stunned, she ghosted her fingers across her tingling lips. A telltale tingle. Her mind was swirling.
“Come,” he ordered gruffly, as his eyes seemed to flash a golden yellow color. Then strode toward the door.
Carys had to speed-walk to keep up. When he got to the door, instead of continuing outside, he held it open for her.
“After you.”
His transition from caveman to gentleman was startling.
It felt like his dual nature was at odds. One civilized and controlled, and one wild and feral.
His wolf.
The combination was whiplash-inducing but orgasmic.
She hadn’t spent a lot of time with shifters since her mother left her father. She’d been too young to remember more than snippets.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she passed.
As Carys eyed the row of motorcycles parked next to the building in the reserved area, she wondered which one was his.
Monster wrapped his arms around her from behind, crossing them over her waist and caressing her hips. She felt completely enveloped by him and his intoxicating scent. When he tugged her earlobe between his teeth, her knees went weak.
“Which one is you, Pixie?” He purred against her neck between nips. God, she couldn’t think with his mouth on her.
“Um, the blue one.”
His chuckle was rich and deep. “Which blue one, babe?”
“Th-that one.” She pointed to her pride and joy. At least she hoped she did. She was drunk from just one diet soda and his lips on her neck. Focusing was impossible.
But oh, how she wanted to. She wanted to remember every moment of the night, every moment with that man, because if he ever realized why she’d been in the bar in the first place, he’d never speak to her again.
So much doubt swamped her, but none of it was in her choice to go home with Monster. Every fiber of her body was telling her he was special.
