“Thanks.” She shot him a suspicious look. “Why are you being so helpful?”
He shrugged. “I like my brother. And I especially like watching him off balance.” An evil grin. “You and he are the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”
“Why hasn’t Riley killed you yet?”
“I keep bouncing back.” A shrug, wide-eyed innocence.
Charmed despite herself, she came to a stop in front of the door he’d led her to. “Now, listen carefully,” she said, leaning close, “if you dare come back here tonight, be prepared to sing soprano the rest of your life.
Andrew’s eyes widened. “Man, you’re scary. Lucky Riley.” And she could tell he meant it, too. “I’m outa here.” But he paused. “Be gentle with him, Mercy. He’s got a heart as big as Texas—he’ll die for you without blinking. But he doesn’t expect anyone to do the same for him.”
Knot in her throat at the unexpected burst of seriousness, she nodded and watched him walk away. Then, straightening her shoulders—and ignoring the large number of wolves who seemed to have something to do in this corridor all of a sudden—she knocked. Riley had to have scented her by now, so the fact that the door had remained closed didn’t bode well.
Several seconds passed.
Frowning because such pettiness wasn’t like him, she went to knock again when the door was wrenched open and she was pulled inside. Against a warm, wet, very naked male chest. “Oh,” she whispered, leaning back against the door he’d shoved shut, “you were in the shower.”
Pushing damp hair out of his eyes, he put his hands on either side of her shoulders and said, “What are you doing here?”
She was too interested in the view to reply. He’d hitched a towel around his waist, but it looked precarious. She bit her lip in an effort to fight the urge to accidentally-on-purpose nudge it out of the way. ’Cause Riley all wet and smoldering got her motor running in a serious way. His body was pure muscle, muscle she’d touched more than once, and yet she found her mouth watering as if she’d never seen him before.
Right then, she didn’t care. Because this was her mate. How could she not touch him when he was in front of her? How could she not give him what she knew he needed, the simple skin-to-skin contact they both craved?
She went to speak, then decided to hell with it. Framing his face in her hands, she took his mouth in a slow, possessive kiss that made her toes curl. He kissed her back, but his arms remained planted on either side of her body. Still mad. That was okay, she thought, nibbling at his lower lip. Coaxing Riley sounded like a fun night to her. Especially if it involved getting that towel off his body.
His eyes were wolf-amber when she drew back, his cheekbones drawn sharply against his skin. “Come by for an ‘okay’ time in the sack?”
Not mad. Seriously angry. “Maybe I came to apologize,” she said, linking her arms around his neck. “And maybe you’ll hear it if you stop snarling at me.”
“What, you’re going to tell me I’m a better than okay lay?”
Oh, man, but he was pissed. In his defense, she thought, men had a way of becoming that way if you insulted their sexual prowess. And coming from the woman meant to be his mate . . . damn, how was she going to fix this? “Of all the things I’ve said to you, that’s the one you decided to take to heart?”
An unwavering amber stare.
“Damn it, Riley, you know you make me crazy in bed,” she said, consigning any attempt at subtlety to Hades.
“Do I?”
“I’m ready for you right now and you know it. My panties are so damp it’s embarrassing.”
“Oh?” And then he was unsnapping her jeans and one big hand was sliding into said panties, parting her liquid-soft flesh with a single smooth move.
She yelped.
“Just checking the evidence.” His face was implacable, but his skin, his skin burned so hot, she could feel the heat brush against her in lapping waves. “Maybe I want to see it, too.”
Her eyes were all but rolling into the back of her head from the exquisite pleasure of his stroking fingers. He knew just how to caress her . . . including how very much it frustrated her to have her clitoris circled but never touched. “Kincaid, you have a mean streak.”
“Only around you.” He slipped a single finger inside her, teasing her body into moving on him. “You make me act like a damn juvenile.”
“Good.” Curling her fingers in the damp hair at his nape, she leaned in for another long, wickedly sensual kiss. “Now, stop teasing.”
He withdrew his hand.
She moaned. “I didn’t mean that! Come back.”
“You ready for a full-time man?” Hard words. “Because I don’t do part-time.”
“Neither do I.” Her words had been said in anger, thoughtless, unmeant.
“I haven’t heard an apology yet.”
“Oh, God, Riley.” She ran her hands over his chest. “You’re an incredible lover. Now, can I play with your beautiful cock?”
He blinked and the wolf retreated to show the man. “Christ, Mercy.”
But she was already pushing that damn towel to the floor to expose him. Her breath came out in a shuddering sigh as she closed her hand around the rigid length of him. “Oh, I have plans for this gorgeous thing.”
Riley jerked in her hand, his next words a growl. “Give me your mouth.” The kiss was wild, untamed, real. They were both breathing in jagged gasps by the time it ended, and she was sliding her hand up and down his length in desperate need. It didn’t surprise her when her clothes ended up shredded on the floor and Riley lifted her up against the door.
“My boots,” she muttered.
“Hot,” Riley muttered, tugging away her hand so he could grip her hips and ease her onto him slow and easy.
Trembling, she held on to his shoulders and decided she’d died and gone to heaven. The man was simply magnificent—possessiveness, dominance, and all. He was also hers. If only she could figure a way out of the minefield between them.
Riley stroked his hand through the silky red hair spread across his chest. It was a kick to the gut to see Mercy here, in his domain. The wolf wanted to bite her again, not to hurt, never to hurt. Just to make sure she really was here.
Then she stirred, scratching her claws lightly over his skin in lazy affection. “I still have my boots on.”
He grinned. “A naked redhead with her boots on. Nirvana.”
“Smart-ass.” A kiss pressed over his heartbeat, a hand stroking across his chest, playing with his chest hairs in a way that was very feline. Petting him, he thought. She was petting him. He wasn’t a man anyone petted. But coming from his mate . . . he relaxed into it, content.
“Riley, about this afternoon.”
“We’re square, kitty cat.” More than square. Never in a million years had he thought that wild, untamable Mercy would come to him.
But she gave a frustrated sigh and sat up, pushing her hair off her face. When he couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful breasts, she growled in her throat and flipped the long strands back over them.
He looked up, scowling. “Now what?”
“Have you thought through the consequences of our mating, Riley? Have you?” She poked a finger into his chest. “One of us is going to have to break from our pack. One of us is going to have to cut out our heart.”
