Page 116 of Pistols & Peonies

I stare back at her, letting it linger just long enough to make the air shift. “Oh, baby,” I murmur, wetting my lips with my tongue. “You have no fucking idea.”

Violet’s pupils blow wide, the scent of her arousal spiking in the air between us. She quickly snorts a laugh to try to cover her reaction, shaking her head. “So that’s it?” she asks, arching a dubious brow. “No lecture about responsibility, pack image, setting an example for the youth?”

“I’d rather have you beating the shit out of someone in a sanctioned match than walking around looking for trouble,” I deadpan. “You don’t strike me as the type that’d enjoy being a kept woman.”

She smirks. “You’re going to regret saying that someday.”

“Probably,” I admit. “But not tonight.”

She keeps watching me like she’s waiting for the catch, but there isn’t one. I don’t want to change her, cage her, or dull the edges that make her who she is.

Violet Slayter is a wild thing. Sharp tongue, quick fists. Fire in her blood. The last thing I want is to be the reason any of that burns out– her spark is one of the many things I love about her.

Love.

Shit, I never thought I’d fall prey to it, but sitting here with her, I don’t even care that I’ve gone soft for this girl– because if the rest of my life is full of nights like this, then that sounds pretty fucking good to me.

“I don’t know whether to slap you or kiss you,” she says, narrowing her eyes on me.

I huff out a quiet laugh, lifting my chopsticks to point at her. “Why don’t you eat while you decide, hm?”

She rolls her eyes and digs back in.

We fall into an easy silence, the kind that doesn’t need filling. The TV drones on in the background as we eat, and at some point, her hand drifts to my thigh. Her fingers trace the seam of my slacks idly, like she’s not even thinking about it. Like it’s just something to do while she eats.

It’s not.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

I pretend not to notice, but the heat of her touch is distracting as hell, settling low in my gut and tightening everything there.

Her thumb presses slightly, dragging back up.

Fuck.

I take another bite I don’t taste.

She finishes her noodles in record time, then hums softly as she sets the carton aside, stretching her arms overhead. Her shirt rides up, exposing a flash of tan skin and ink. My wolf perks up instantly, claws flexing, attention locked in.

Mine.

She drops her arms, a slow, dirty grin curving her mouth. “See something you like, Commander?” she teases.

The way I’m looking at her must say enough, because she plucks my takeout container right out of my hands, setting it aside before swinging a leg over to straddle my lap. My hands come to her hips automatically, her thighs bracketing mine.

“What are you up to?” I ask, even though we both know where this is headed.

She walks her fingers up my chest. “I wanted to properly thank you,” she murmurs, all false innocence. “You know… for not getting me a job that I’m absolutely going to take.”

I lift a brow, waiting to see just how far she’ll take this.

Violet leans in and crushes her lips to mine. I surge into the kiss, tasting the whiskey on her lips and the faintest trace of sriracha on her tongue. I’d let this woman eat me alive if she wanted.

She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips dragging along my jaw, her breath warm against my skin. “Still haven’t decided whether I wanna slap you or kiss you right now.”

“Why not both?” I growl, restraint thinning fast.

She laughs, then does exactly that– a quick, playful smack to my cheek, followed immediately by another kiss. This one’s deeper and more demanding, her hands fisting in my shirt to drag me closer.