Page 28 of Brandon’s Mate

She never wanted it to end.

Brandon’s hand slid up under her shirt, cupping her breast, sliding his thumb over her nipple. Electricity shot straight to her core, and she moaned faintly.

His panther growled in response, and the muscles of his back rippled under her hands. She could feel the heat and hardness of his shaft pressing against her.

His scent overwhelmed her wolf—passion and arousal and male musk, with hints of adrenalin and blood. It filled up the empty space inside her heart.

She’d forgotten how it felt to be close to him. Nothing in her life was really right, when Brandon wasn’t there.

As soon as she had the thought, Brandon pulled away from her, his eyes a feral gold-green. His panther was a constant snarl deep in his chest, and he was breathing hard.

Kitty was glad her back was to the wall, because her knees had somehow turned to Silly Putty and it was the only thing holding her up.

He stepped back, his face taking on that closed-off look. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said. “I—”

He was doing it again—shoving her away. She should have known.

His phone rang, loud in the quiet room. “You better get that,” she said shakily. Anything to give her time to get it together.

“Kitty—”

“Just get it,” she snapped.

With a muffled curse, Brandon yanked it out of his pocket, tearing the fabric. He stabbed at the screen with his thumb. “What?” he snarled.

Kitty couldn’t see the screen, but her sharp wolf hearing picked up the voice.

Caleb the Crapper. He was pissed about his damaged minions and was trying to up his intimidation game.

She could have told him that would be an epic fail. She and Brandon had grown up playing catch with shifters scary enough to make Caleb pee his pants just by growling at him.

Brandon was saying, “Are you kidding? I took out those guys on my coffee break. Without spilling any. That’s five in the last two weeks—you must be running low on minions by this time.”

Kitty didn’t listen to Caleb’s answer. How the hell was she going to deal with Brandon after that kiss? This was not how she’d pictured this going.

Don’t freak out, she told herself. Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak out…

She’d been so sure she had her shit all together, and five minutes with Brandon and his lips and she was toast.

She was going to get her heart broken into little, tiny pieces.

We must help Brandon, her wolf said. Protect him.

Uh huh. And who’s going to protect us?

He will.

Her wolf sounded very sure. She was a lot more optimistic than Kitty was.

Caleb was apparently still spewing threats, because Brandon said into the phone, “Bring it. Although, Thursday’s not really good for me—I have an appointment for a mani-pedi. But tomorrow works. Or Friday—Friday’s shaping up to be kind of a slow day. You don’t need to call, just show up. Kisses.”

He hung up and shoved his phone back into his jeans. Kitty peeled herself off the wall, trying to tuck in her shirt unobtrusively. She was very proud of her knees for managing to work like knees were supposed to.

She said, “So you’re basically daring Caleb to kill you?”

Brandon shrugged. “He can try.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“And how is this going to help you find your friend’s killer?”