She took a sip of coffee. He made a mean cup of java, she had to admit. Smooth and delicious. Just like him.
“If this whole mobster thing doesn’t work out for you, you’d make a kick-ass barista.”
He stifled a chuckle.
“What?”
His voice was deep and gravelly as he studied her with an amused look. “Most people are afraid of me.”
She took another sip. “Put me in the ‘really annoyed’ category instead, thanks.”
“I like how you banter. You’re funny. I think I’ll keep you.”
She wasn’t going to dignify that with answer. “So, what brings you around here? Slumming?” she asked.
“Nope.” He shifted on the couch, angling his body towards hers, and the furniture groaned under his weight. “I came to help you out. I could be a real asshole and let you keep limping around, or I could tell you how to heal that bite.”
She stared at him narrow eyed. “And then kidnap me?”
“Nope.”
“Nope, not today, or nope, you’ve come to your senses and realized that I’m not the one for you?”
He stood up, and the couch shifted again. He didn’t answer her directly. “When a werewolf bites his female, the only thing that heals the pain is his saliva. He has to shift back to human form and…use his tongue. If you’d stuck around after I bit you, I would have healed you.”
“Seriously? You thought I’d stick around after that?” she spluttered indignantly. He just smiled.
“You’ll learn. You miss out on all kinds of good things by running away from me.”
She looked up him. He towered over her, his muscular arms folded across his broad chest. And he wasn’t budging.
Was she seriously considering this?
“Turn your back. And don’t try anything funny,” she warned him, which for some reason made him laugh again. Ha ha, she was just a laugh riot today.
She stood up and quickly stripped down to her bra and underwear, telling herself that it was just because she needed to be able to walk again without limping. That was the only reason she was alone in an apartment, in her skivvies, with the sexiest man she’d ever seen – the man who’d claimed her as his bride.
Definitely.
Totally.
So why were her nipples pebbling with desire? Why were her panties damp?
She closed her eyes and tried to remind herself why she wouldn’t give in to him. She pictured mountains of garbage and scampering rats. Steering her bike around dead bodies on the sidewalk in the business district – victims of a late-night Blood Oath pack hit.
And then she felt the soft caress of his tongue dragging down her right butt cheek, and she forgot to think. All she could do was feel. It felt like velvet, gliding across her aching flesh, and the pain faded instantly.
“Better?” His husky voice stroked her like a lover’s caress.
She turned around.
He was still kneeling, and he was dangerously close. He grabbed her hips, holding her in place as he tenderly kissed her stomach. Her soft, mushy stomach with the fold that lapped over the top of her panties. She sucked in a breath.
“Don’t,” he said sternly.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to make yourself less than you are. I want all of you. Every delicious inch.” She tried to step backwards. He held her still while he kissed her panties – just the outside. “I won’t settle for anything less, Zoey,” he growled.
