Page 4 of Relentless Touch

The impala’s sides were still moving fast with labored breath. His tawny coat was damp with exertion, his legs now tucked tight to its body, one curved antler pressing awkwardly against the underside of the shelf. Blue eyes tracked Rio’s every movement with wariness.

“Take your time,” Rio said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His closing checklist could wait.

Twenty minutes passed before the impala finally shifted.

Rio had been watching the tension bleed out in increments—the rate of breathing slowing, the legs relaxing their tight fold, the ears tilting forward instead of flat. He’d learned to read those signals a long time ago. When the impala finally moved, it wasn’t a panicked scramble. It was an instantaneous shift, animal replaced by man.

The pull completely rewired Rio.

His snow leopard stilled, staring at the stranger sitting naked on the kitchen floor.

He was shorter than Rio. Slim, blond-haired, with an angular face. There was color in his cheeks from exertion.

The stranger was simply beautiful.

Rio picked up the towel he’d set down earlier and held it out without comment.

His mate took it, wrapped it around his hips, then looked up at Rio.

“Before you say anything,” the guy said, his voice still a little rough, “I want to note that I did not ask to be in your kitchen.”

Rio blinked. “I know.”

“And the potatoes were already in a precarious position.”

“They were not.”

“Structurally speaking—”

“There were twelve potatoes in a bin with four-inch sides.” Rio stood, moved to the cabinet where he kept the staff’s spare clothes—someone was always spilling something—and pulled out a folded pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. He set them on the prep station without making it a production. “Put those on. Then tell me what happened.”

The man eyed the clothes. Then he eyed Rio. Something moved across his face that wasn’t quite suspicion and wasn’t quite relief, landing somewhere between the two.

“You’re a snow leopard,” the man said.

“Since birth.”

“Do you own this place?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re just”—he gestured vaguely at the clothes—“being cool about this.”

“Been in a lot worse situations.” Rio pulled out a stool from beneath the prep station and sat, giving his mate room to dress without hovering over him. “I’m Rio. In case you missed it.”

“Kevin.” He grabbed the sweatpants and turned away to pull them on. “Kevin Marsh. And for the record, I had a perfectly good plan tonight that did not involve any of this.”

“What was the plan?”

“Go to a club and hook up. Not get bitch-slapped by a wolf with a size issue. I didn’t sleep with him. He just seems the type.” Kevin tugged the T-shirt over his head, and Rio caught a brief glimpse of lean muscle. “But that’s the order things happened in.”

“Sit,” he said. “I’ll get you some food.”

Kevin turned around, his brows slightly raised. “You’d really feed me?”

“You’ve been running, burning a tremendous amount of calories. You have to be starving.” Rio was already moving toward the walk-in. “Park your butt.”