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“Night, Coya.” She was surprised by Ashley’s quick kiss to her cheek. “Kick his ass before you give him some. He was such a male Breed.”
“Yeah.” Anya grinned in delight. “He is, isn’t he?”
Ashley rolled her eyes as the girls left laughing. They were laughing. They were happy. And her mate was happy.
He moved to the bed, beside her, his lips lowering to hers gently, whispering over them. “No sex for three weeks,” he told her. “Doctor’s orders.”
She pouted. “I won’t last three weeks.”
“Three weeks,” he repeated.
But his lips slanted over hers, his tongue touched her lips, slipped between them. That taste of the mating hormone wasn’t there, but the heat, the hunger, the need still filled her.
This was her Coyote. Her mate. Her lover. He would be her husband. But first, damn, three weeks. She might not survive it.
“Four weeks was uncalled for.” Anya was sniping when she entered her and Del-Rey’s rooms.
She threw her PDA in a chair and turned to face him. “What did you do to her this time? What did Brim do to her? Four weeks, Del-Rey. She’s made me wait four weeks.”
“Just get your damned clothes off,” Del-Rey snarled as he jerked his boots off. Black eyes gleamed in hunger.
“Get ’em off or I’m ripping them off,” he snarled in complete male dedication to the arousal that had been about to drive them insane for weeks.
She jerked her sweater over her head.
“Brim’s been harassing her again, hasn’t he?”
“Hell if I care,” Del-Rey grunted as he ripped the buttons on his shirt in his desperation to get it off. “Stop bitching and get ready to start fucking.”
Her bra clip broke as she tore at it. Grimacing, she flung the piece of lace across the room before jerking her shoes from her feet.
Damn, Del-Rey was beating her. His pants were almost off. She tore at the snap on hers and pushed them, along with her panties, over her thighs. She was barely stepping out of them before she found herself picked up, gently, and moved to the bed. On her back.
He jerked the jeans off her legs and threw them behind him. He stopped then, stared down at her.
His fingers reached out and touched the small pink scar at her side.
“Don’t start, Coyote Man,” she ordered fiercely. Del-Rey could get rather intense over that scar. “We’re here to fuck, not stress over something that didn’t happen.”
“I can stress later?” He lifted his gaze to hers. “If I never forget, Anya, then I’ll never let my arrogance get out of hand again. I want to always remember what I nearly lost.”
“Later. Fine.” She thumped her hands on the mattress, then lifted them to his hair. “Kiss me first. Then do that wicked, naughty thing I made you blush over in the doctor’s office.”
He blushed again, his black eyes going wild just as they had in the office when the doctor had slid that little look his way. The one that was equal parts amusement and curiosity.
“You tease,” he groaned. “You weren’t serious.”
His erection assured her he was very seriously interested.
“Are you gonna turn it down?” she teased him.
“Ah God. Turn that ass up to me and its fucked,” he groaned, his lips sliding over hers. “So damned fucked.”
She loved it. She’d heard of it. Hope and Faith had snickered over it a time or two. They had no idea what caused it. Defiance could get it for them. They argued, they yelled, they got their way in the form of their mates going all super dominant and showing them who was boss.
Nikki Armani had been confused by it. She called it a Breed thing. Something about submission and seduction and dominance. The forbidden. She had shaken her head and shrugged.
Anya hadn’t tried that with Del-Rey yet. They yelled, they argued, but she’d been saving the defiance stuff for later. Maybe after the baby was born. But this, she didn’t want to wait any longer for this kind of intimacy.
