Page 73 of Paws & Order

Liza’s smile goes lopsided, and she pulls me down by the face, kissing me like she can brand the answer into me. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” she says, and I know it’s a yes.

I work lower, kissing her ribs, her stomach, the curve of her hip. She’s wearing joggers and the world’s most infuriating pair of underwear, black and lace and barely there. I hook my thumbs into both and draw them down together. She squirms, knees coming up reflexively. The scent of her—spicy and sharp and dizzying—makes my brain short out.

I kneel and spread her legs, soft but insistent. I hear her breath catch.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask again. Last chance. No takebacks. She looks at me, eyes wide and more awake than I’ve seen them.

She shakes her head. “I want you to devour me.”

So I do.

She falls apart on my tongue, the slowest and most satisfying unraveling I’ve witnessed. I try to make it last, but she’s greedy too, and greedy wins out. Her hands clutch my hair, her thighs grip my ears, and when she breaks apart it’s wild—a full-body quake, a whisper of my name that’s equal parts praise and curse.

When she’s done, she drags me up her body, hooks a leg around mine, and rolls me beneath her. I’m not expecting it. She straddles me and yanks my jeans open, grinding down to let me know exactly who’s in charge.

“Was that okay?” I ask, and regret it instantly. Of course it was.

She just grins, fingers making quick work of my zipper. “Better than okay.” She shimmies down until she’s got my cock in her hand—no more pretending, no more teasing. She strokes me, slow at first, then with a grip that will haunt my dreams. I’m embarrassingly easy, but so is she. We crash together, hot and messy, and it’s perfect.

I line up at her entrance and pause. “You sure?”

She leans down, hair curtaining both of us, and bites my bottom lip. “You know I am.”

I bark out a laugh, then thrust in slow, rolling my hips while we both adjust to the fit. Her mouth goes slack, and she buries her face in my shoulder. There’s no coming back from this, no halfway. I push in deeper, and she moans, then rocks against me, greedy as ever.

The wolf is pacing now. I can’t shift during sex. That would be a health hazard as well as a crime. But the urge to claim her—to bite, to mark—burns behind my teeth. I scent her, memorize it, and bite down on my own tongue to keep from doing anything reckless.

She rides me hard, surprising both of us, then collapses forward so I take over, rolling her onto her back and pinning her wrists above her head in one palm. There’s a flash of challenge in her eyes, and she pushes back, legs bracing against my hips, angling to get every inch.

I lose control and let it happen.

We shatter together, and it’s not clean or dignified. The bed creaks, the headboard cracks the wall, and afterward we lie tangled, hearts jackhammering, bodies gleaming with sweat, the window fogged up as if we’ve summoned our own personal climate change.

Afterward, Liza traces the scar on my chest with one finger. “You always this intense?”

I brush her hair off her forehead, kiss her, then nuzzle the curve of her jaw. “No. But I’ve wanted you for years. And the cupcake might have done something weird to my biochemistry.”

She laughs, and the sound is warm and sleepy. “For the record, I didn’t need a nudge.”

“Me neither.” I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest. “But you ought to know something.”

She shifts, interested. “What’s that?”

“You’re mine now,” I say, low and serious, and the wolf in me isn’t joking.

She smirks, utterly unbothered. “I think you mean you’re mine.”

I hesitate, then nod. “I can live with that.”

We drift, her head on my arm, my palm splayed over her belly. I don’t want to move, but I know I’ll have to soon. There are always emergencies in Blackthorn Bay. But for now, I listen to her breathing sync with mine, and let the world outside wait a goddamn minute.

After a while, Liza flips onto her side and pokes me in the ribs. “So, Chief. You ever going to tell me what happened to Enoch’s car last week?”

I groan and cover my face. “If I do, you have to swear absolute secrecy.”

“Scout’s honor.” She crosses her heart and I can’t help but notice she’s still naked, which is incredibly distracting.

I roll onto my back, stare at the ceiling, and confess, “I mistook his Prius for a surveillance vehicle and may have… marked it.”