LUC

It’s no surprise I’m a possessive bastard. I’d give myself a fucking medal for reining myself in, but who Gianna sleeps with isn’t my call. She hasn’t given me that right, and it’s not something I can take.

“I’ll take you home,” I say. I left my boat tied up down at the water’s edge. Once I get her deep in the bayou, I can coax her into paying attention to me. Remind her one kiss at a time why I’m not such a bad bargain. She’s agreed to a week, so it’s not kidnapping. Just… persuasion.

She’s not stupid. “Define home.”

“My place.” I tuck her small hand into mine.

She digs in her heels, all four sexy inches of them. “And all of my things are back at the B&B. I’d rather go there.”

The inn may not be the safest place for her. Cruz will watch like a hawk—the inn lies in the heart of his territory—but the place is also the logical hidey-hole for any guest staying in Port Leon. If Breed members follow her from Baton Rouge, the inn will be first on their hit list.

“Hell, shug. I don’ know if that place is safe or not.”

The Breed are not known for their progressive stance on women’s rights—or a fundamental belief in fair play. The gang members play hard, and they play for keeps. A male earns his place in that pack with his fists and his teeth. For a female, the only option is on her back, and even still, most of them are pass-arounds who are shared rather than loved exclusively.

She eyeballs me calmly, but she starts moving again. “I’m a lawyer. I’m not an innocent flower. If there’s danger, tell me.”

“Got it.” She’s mine to protect though, and I won’t fuck this up the way I did the past ten years. She’s not done reading me the riot act however.

“I’m not stupid. I don’t have my head in the sand. You tell me to my face that you believe there is a credible threat to my safety if I return to the inn, and I’ll listen. I came down here because my partners believed getting out of Baton Rouge temporarily was a good idea. If it wasn’t enough, then give me the facts.”

I hand her down into the boat. The boat is stripped down and built for speed, light enough to skim over the swamp. I needed to ride the open water today and not the road. Now I’m glad. The bayou waterways are safer for Gianna than the roads.

“I’m the Alpha of the Breauxs. Cruz, he’s the Alpha of the Port Leon pack.”

“So I’ve been told on multiple occasions.” Her lips curl up in a saucy smile, all but begging for a kiss. I can do that. Leaning in, I kiss her hard and quick.

“Coming down here would usually qualify as dropping off the radar, but the biker gang isn’t human. Not entirely and definitely not the leadership.”

“They’re werewolves,” she says.

They’re definitely that. I start the boat and point us toward the darkness.

“I’ll send someone for your things,” I compromise.

“Telling, not talking.” She stares out into the bayou, avoiding my gaze. Birds rise up as the boat moves away from the bank, the bullfrogs singing a bass song. The bayou is peaceful and quiet, shadows wrapping the water and cypress trees.

“Those werewolves will look for you with the other packs first, especially once Cruz’s name hits the paperwork.”

“Okay, then.” She kicks off her heels with a blissed-out sigh and tucks her legs up beneath her.

“Do you trust me?” I need her to say it.

She sighs. “For seven more nights.”

GIANNA

The sky darkens overhead, stars appearing as the swamp comes alive around us. Herons rise up out of the reeds, wings beating through the air, racing the frigate birds for the horizon. A fish jumps out of the water, a silver flash here and then gone.

“You mind the dark?” Luc steers effortlessly, hands on the wheel, bracing his legs against the water’s gentle bump and swell. Shirt off, pants rolled up, he’s barefoot, and God help me but the man even has sexy feet. He exudes strength and confidence as he guides us deeper into the bayou. This is his territory. His home. I’m the outsider here.

He must interpret the shrug I give him in lieu of answer as a negative, because he steps away from the wheel momentarily and snags a lantern, lighting the wick with a quick flick of his fingers.

“Company for you,” is all he says as he sets it down beside me.

“Are we almost there?” A gator roars somewhere too close by for comfort, the harsh bark echoing off the cypress trees. The dark surface of the water ripples away from my pool of light in a spreading vee. That’s company I don’t want.

He returns his attention to the water. “Fifteen minutes.”

The lantern’s light reflects across the dark water in crooked stretches. A gator bobs up nearby in the brown water, yellow eyes gleaming as it watches me. I’m glad not to be swimming—or dinner. The rough wooden seat beneath me is a welcome anchor.

The moon rises above the bayou, full and white.

Luc flicks a glance up at the moon and then over at me. “Moon’s a full one.”

Something teases my memory, a quick flash of our Vegas night and then nothing. Whatever it was, the thought is lost once more in my subconscious and must not be important.

The Breauxs’ camp rises up out of the swamp in front of us. Deep in the bayou, the brothers have a collection of cabins on stilts and houseboats. Crickets explode in bursts of sound as we motor through a curtain of spanish moss. I check my phone—zero bars—and discover our silent boat ride through the swamp has taken almost forty minutes. Hotfooting it back to the B&B is an impossibility.

Luc guides us past the spongy banks, thick curtains of moss parting around the boat’s prow. A snake slides off a low-hanging branch and into the water where roots break the dark surface. Thick clumps of spiky reeds brush against the boat’s side, and when I reach out a hand, I touch duckweed and water hyacinth.

Lights spill out of some cabins, while others are dark. Maybe not everyone has made it back from the reception yet. Or maybe the members of Luc’s pack prefer maintaining separate space. I have no idea how these wolves live.

“Dag’s taking Riley on a honeymoon,” Luc says out of nowhere.

I have no idea what to say, other than the obvious. “Where did they go?”

“When he catches up with her?” Amusement colors Luc’s voice. “Tomorrow’s he got plane tickets for a casita on the beach near Tulum.”

I try—and fail—to imagine werewolves on a beach vacation. I spent several weeks once exploring the wild beaches south of Cancun, reveling in the harsh pounding of the waves on the shore and the crumbling ruins perched above the flat blue of the ocean. It seems about as far removed from werewolf territory as I can imagine.

Luc kills the motor, angling us toward a small, plantation-style cabin set back from the others.

“Your place?”

“Mine,” he agrees, a rough note in his voice, and I don’t think he’s talking about the cabin.

He ties the boat to the dock. Putting my heels back on seems suicidal, so I let him swing me up onto the dock, curling my feet into the sun-warmed wood. The door opens easily when Luc pushes—no keys necessary this far out into the bayou. He has at least two rooms, a screened-in porch and a bedroom beyond that.

“Bienvenue.” His rough Cajun accent sends shivers down my spine, making me hyperconscious of his warm palm pressing lightly against the small of my back. Here we are. And… now what? My pulse is a drumbeat of anticipation, the glimpse of the big four-poster bed with mosquito netting making me imagine all sorts of possibilities. Tied up, held down… taken. Okay. So I’ve had a few fantasies. That’s the point of coming here—to see if in-the-flesh Luc measures up to my memories.

He steps away and lights a row of creamy white candles. The scent of citronella fills the air.

“I’m goin’ to check on your things.” He points toward a second door. “There’s hot water for a bath if you wan’.”

The indecision paralyzing me in the middle of his cabin is out of character. I drove my life ruthlessly along the desired path for the past fifteen years. College. Law school. Career. Check, check, and check. Our night in Vegas was a delicious blip in my road trip to financial and emotional security, but even then I knew how that would end. I was in charge. My hotel room, my girls’ night out. This place and this time are Luc’s. I may have agreed to let him take charge, but after I said the words, he did exactly that. The sex better be damn good because I hate, hate, hate feeling this off balance and out of control.

Hot water does sound good. I think about Luc and the wedding while I pad in the direction he’s pointed. Sure enough, the man has himself a bathroom in the heart of the bayou. I decide not to ask how or why, because I certainly haven’t come here for a lesson in bayou building codes. Instead, I shut the bathroom door behind me—I’m not ready to share some things—and take care of business while I run hot water into the claw-foot tub. Twist my hair up on top of my head and stepped in.

I’m almost asleep when the door opens, lulled by the steamy air scented with lavender and hyacinth. The hot water has worked out the day’s kinks, and I loll against the hand towel I had rolled up and shoved beneath my neck.

Opening my eyes is too much work. “You ever considered knocking?”

“Not really,” he says gruffly. He’s honest. I’ll give him that.

I crack an eye to stare at him. God, he’s worth looking at. “You think it’s possible to housetrain a werewolf?”

I drift in a cloud of relaxed arousal, a low-level buzz. See? There’s nothing scary about this. Nothing to worry about. Luc is still fully dressed although he’s barefoot. Since I’m naked, I should work on getting his clothes off him.

Promises…

“Time to come out.” He prowls toward the edge of the tub, a towel in his dark hands. He reaches for me, lifting me out with one powerful arm while he works the towel around me with the other. The tameness is an illusion. Cradled against his powerful chest, I can’t help but compare my body with his. Soft to his hard. He’s bigger. Stronger. Although likely not meaner. I’ve earned my reputation in the courtroom.

He runs a thumb over the corner of my mouth, where the smile tips up my lips. “Penny for your thoughts.”

“You’ve obviously never hired legal help or you’d know my hourly billing rate is far, far higher than a penny.” I slide my arms around his neck, hanging on as he stands. He doesn’t seem to mind my weight, and that right there is grounds for celebration.

“Uh-huh. I don’ get a discount?”

He carries me out of the bathroom, abandoning the tub. His bedroom is shadowy and smells like geranium and vanilla. He sits down on the edge of the bed, still holding me.

“I was thinking about you,” I admit. So much for having a tactical advantage.

He must like the sound of that because there’s no missing the erection pushing against my backside. My towel and his pants suddenly seem like no barrier at all.

“Let’s get you dried off,” he says, but he pulls the clips out of my hair first, letting the heavy weight fall down my back, easing the strands through his fingers. Then he runs the towel down my arms, over my breasts. Cotton rasps against my nipples, teasing them into hard points. Then lower down my belly, over the round curve I hate and south. Oh.

He covers my mouth with his, his tongue taking over. Pushing inside me, exploring and tasting ruthlessly. My body fires right up, on board with his interest, my breasts aching for more of his touch.

He runs the towel slowly over my mound, exerting a soft, sweet pressure where my attention centers. Wicked.

More pressure, the cotton pushing in a bare half inch. The erotic friction drives me crazy, heat roaring through my body. I tremble and hold still, then try to push deeper into his touch. More. Less. He makes me feel so much. The air shoots out of my lungs, my breathing a harsh pant.

“Luc.” I say his name once, then chant it as if it’s a lifeline in the erotic maelstrom.

“Oui,” he whispers. He might say something else, something more. Lost in the pleasure, I don’t give a damn. He drags the cotton over my clit, giving me more of the sweet friction I crave. His fingers work deeper between my folds, the towel the only barrier between us. Rough-gentle. Perfect.

He shatters me, holds me close as I come apart for him. Whimper his name and twist my fingers in his shirt because I need him closer still. The pleasure and the white heat swallow me up, and I let it happen because I have zero self-control around this man.

“Bedtime,” he growls when I surface long moments later.

Oh, please.

LUC

She pushes to her knees, the towel falling away. Christ, I’m a lucky bastard. My Gianna is all sweet curves and full breasts, her creamy skin white and pink.

“I’m naked,” she says, as if there’s any way I hadn’t noticed. “Join me.”

I’m so on board with that plan. I fist the hem of my T-shirt, pulling the cotton over my head in one smooth move. Drop the shirt on the floor. Her eyes are all over me. I’ve done a whole lot of living in this body. As a werewolf shifter, I have a built-in immunity from injury, healing supernaturally fast. Hurt me bad enough though, and I scar. Claw marks cover my rib cage from a close encounter with the previous pack Alpha. I walked away. The other male did not.

“You’ve been busy.” She brushes her fingers over the marks, and heat sears through me.

“Occupational hazard.” She doesn’t need to know my opponent tried to remove my heart the old-fashioned way, straight through my ribs.

“Mmmm,” she hums, her fingers finding my belt. I help her undo the leather and pop the button on my jeans. When her fingertips brush the hot, wet tip of my dick, I jerk. Jesus. I won’t last long at all if she keeps that up. Shoving my pants down my legs, I step out.

Her hands on my hips urge me closer, tugging until my knees bump against the side of the bed and she moves between my legs. She keeps her eyes on me the whole time, watching my face. Her hair falls around her shoulders, over my thighs, in the sexiest damned sight I’ve ever seen.

“Is it my turn to eat you up?”

Hell, yeah.

“Whatever you want, shug.” I’ll happily stand here and let her torture me. Like she’s read my mind, she skims her fingers up and down my shaft. The light touch barely touches my aching flesh, but I feel the connection between us all the way to my core. This is my female—and I’m every bit as much hers as she is mine.

She slides the aching tip of me into her mouth with an erotic little pop of sound. Her mouth is hot and wet, her tongue rubbing against the head.  Once, twice, dragging her tongue over me, tracing the vein until she hits pay dirt where I’m wet. I thread my hands through her hair, hips rolling. I’ve had women take me like this before, but this is different. This is Gianna. Gianna fisting me, opening her mouth up for him.

She sucks me in deep.

Her eyes fly to my face, checking to see how she’s doing. Her gaze watching me is an even bigger turn on. Those brown eyes of hers stare at me while she swallows me, moving up and down my shaft as I fuck her mouth.

Pulling free because Christ, I’m too closing to coming, I reach for one of the candles.

“You got any idea what I could do with one of these candles?”

GIANNA

Luc’s question sucks the air right out of my lungs. There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes that promises so much.

“Not a clue.” I answer him, breathless from the erotic longing that slams into me. No clue—but I have ideas. Wicked, impossible ideas spurred by his capable hands turning the candle around. When I say yes—because it’s a question of when and not if—he won’t stop. He’s a hunter at heart, and he goes after what he wants until he catches it.

And he wants me.

“Lie on your stomach.” His rough order is sexy as hell.

He’s dangerous.

He’s a wolf and a predator—and for seven nights, he’s all mine.

The sheet feels deliciously cool beneath my heated skin when I roll over and gave him my back. He watches me obey, his gaze sliding over my bare skin. Back, butt, thighs—all open to him. I shiver, nipples pebbling where the cotton rubs against them.

He runs a hand over my butt. “You wan’ me to show you?”

“Please.” A tremor of need laces my voice. I need to see him, so I tilt my head to the side. He holds a mason jar candle, creamy white, the kind of thing you put on the coffee table to make a room look pretty. It lights up the room with a romantic glow. Rain starts to patter down on the cabin’s tin roof.

“Did you order that up just for me?”

He runs a hand down my back, and I arch up into his touch. God, I love his husky laugh. “You know I would have if it was a possibility, shug. But I’ve got my limits.”

He swings himself over the back of my knees, pressing me down into the mattress. He’s not a small man. The weight and heat of him holds me in place so that there’s no getting away. The flame flattens as he lifts the candle.

“Turn your hand over. I wan’ to see what your limits are.”

Obediently, mesmerized by the sensual note in his voice, I place my hand, palm up, by my head.

He blows the flame out.

Anticipation consumes me as he tilts the candle. Curiosity. Heat. Oh, God. He tilts the candle, the liquid wax falling in a thin ribbon. Sensation pools in my palm, the shocking warmth burning through my skin, making me melt like the candle itself.

He rights the candle. “Do you like that?”

Too much.

“Do it again,” I demand.

“So that’s a yes.” His eyes gleam with lust and a wicked heat that burn me more than any candle ever could. He lowers his hand and carefully dips his finger in the hot pool beneath the flame. “Tell me if this is too much.”

The rough pad of his finger traces my neck, rubbing the hot wax into my skin. Soft and silky, rough and hot. My world explodes with sensations, pleasure coursing through me. I stretch, moaning, rubbing myself against the cool sheets. Pressing up into his heated touch.

“More,” he says, and it isn’t a question. He knows what I need before I do. He tilts the candle, and heat streaks down my spine. His hands massage the wax against my skin, setting me on fire, and then he follows with the rough scrape of his tongue. The hot, sweet burn sensitizes my skin like no touch has.

“Luc.” His name tears from my lips. Luc—more? Luc—what? Lost in a sea of pleasure, I have no idea.

“You wan’ to turn over for me?”

I roll over, arching up into the hot trail of wax he paints over my stomach. My skin warms everywhere, anticipating the next sweet, burning sting. The candle tilts, the wax runs down, hitting the sensitive slope of my breast, licking a fiery path toward my nipples.

“More.” Don’t stop. My hungry cry fills the air.

“Come on then.” He presses my thighs wider, and I know what’s coming. Anticipation licks through me. He doesn’t use the candle. Instead, he rubs a wax-covered finger gently over my clit and I lose myself in the maelstrom of sensations, the flames tearing through my body.

LUC

After I blow out the candles, I slip the extra sheet out from beneath Gianna and drop it on the floor. I don’t want anything between us. I didn’t know far she’d let me push her. Wasn’t entirely sure she’d stay with me. I certainly hadn’t expected her curiosity and her hunger to match mine, for her to enjoy the same dark edge I do.

My mate.

I don’t want to count up all those wasted years when I could have been loving her, touching her. I let her go and I did my fair sharing of running. That’s over now. I’m not wasting any more time. Standing by her side, watching her back? Oui. That’s a lifetime commitment, and I’m … okay with that. Once mated, wolves are loyal. A wolf may kiss and touch, may love some on other wolves, but those touches are more about companionship and affection. Intimacy and closeness. What I explored with the other females in my pack has nothing to do with this fevered desired burning through me now.

Gianna waited. I left her hungry for ten years, but no one else dove himself inside that tight pussy or ran his fingers over her satiny skin. I’m a possessive bastard and she owes me nothing… but she chose to give me the sweetest of gifts. Now I have her stretched beneath me, teasing me with possibilities. Seven nights to convince her that her place is right here with me.

Gently I roll her over, urging her up onto her knees.

“You finally going to get inside me?” Laughter fills her voice.

She has no idea.

“Just makin’ sure this old wolf is what you wan’.”

“I want you inside me. Now. Less talking, more doing.”

Lasting for longer than a few minutes will be hell after my ten-year wait.

Gathering up her hair, I tuck it to the side, exposing the sweet, vulnerable curve of her neck.

“Last chance.”

“Stop warning me to run,” she grumbles.

I can work with that. I push her thighs apart.

“Tilt that sweet ass of yours up some.”

She does and I run a hand down her spine, tracing the darker seam of her ass. When my finger rubs the rosy pucker, she stills.

“Mine,” I say roughly, because I need it to be true. I push through the tight ring of nerves, drinking in her sharp gasp of pleasure. When she sits tomorrow, she’ll feel the sweet burn and think of me.

“I’m gettin’ in here too.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” she mutters, but she doesn’t say no. Instead, she pushes back, taking my finger deeper, harder. I add a second finger, scissoring them inside her rear channel. Mine.

I stroke myself roughly, palm slapping up my dick. Jesus. She undoes me. She’s gorgeous and I’ve done nothing to deserve her. I want to hurry up and sink inside her; I want to spin out the moment, because once I’ve buried myself in her sweet spot, I’ll know exactly what I walked away from ten years ago.

I made her a deal. Seven nights of sin and pleasure with her wolf, and then she walks free. When I look at her, her fingers twisting my sheets, her body pleading for mine, I know I’ve borrowed a kind of trouble I can’t handle. If she walks away, she takes my heart and soul with her. Without a mate, our kind turn feral, losing ourselves in the wolves. I never understood that kind of desperation, but now… I do.

Fuck, do I ever.

I place my hands on her thighs, opening her up, pressing her down into the mattress. She parts sweetly and I tuck my dick against her wet opening. She meets me with a husky moan.

“You ready, shug?”

She nods, little shivers racking her. Yeah. She’s good and ready.

I push in. And in. No stopping, no holding back.

Taking her, learning her.

Going all the way.

Her body gives sweetly around me, lush, slick tissues clinging to my dick. Her surrender pushes me toward the edge and I lose myself in her, the urge riding me to slam into her, to drive us both over the edge hard and fast. I don’t want this over, not so soon. Not yet. Desperate for distraction, I lean forward and nip her ear.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot.”

Not poetry, just desperate truth. I’m on fire. She melts all my defenses, gets under my skin.

When I brace my hands on either side of her head, she threads her fingers through mine. I drink in her pants, the way her breath catches when I move because I’m not alone here. She wants me too, and that makes the night fucking perfect.

I rock against her, driving in hard and fast. Kissing her wherever I can reach. No more games, just raw sensation. I pull a hand away from hers and shove it beneath her. I’m not leaving her behind, not this time.

She gasps. “Now would be good.”

Like I hold the keys to her fucking body. Pride and happiness swell up in me. She trusts me here and now. Trusts me to bring her over that edge, to not leave her wanting. Failing her isn’t an option.

I pull out. Thrust back in again. She moans, and then when I work her clit, she yells my name, coming hard and fast.

I wrap my arms around her, holding on, working for her. Coming with her. Oui. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.

GIANNA

“You left me.” The words fly out of my mouth, sleepy and accusatory. Those words are both right and so very, very wrong.

Luc doesn’t have to ask what I mean. He knows. “That night in Vegas was somethin’ special, but it shouldn’t have been for keeps.”

Sprawled on his bare chest, my cheek pressed against his skin and close enough to hear the steady beat of his heart, I wonder. What if he had stayed? If I had taken a chance on my one-night crazy and seen where the passion could take us…

“You made decisions for me.”

He runs a hand down my hair, playing with the strands. “I kept you safe.”

“Because you were a werewolf.”

“You saw me shift. You think you were ready for that?”

Honestly? I’m not ready now. Both the bayou and the wolves are a foreign world. I prefer the predictable. Rules are good too. I’m on track to make partner at my firm, and sacrificing that—either then or now—isn’t my first choice.

“Now I got a question for you,” he says.

 “Uh-huh.” Apparently boneless isn’t some kind of metaphor. I’m literally melting into the mattress. “What exactly did Cruz mean when he said he’d see you in a week? What did you tell him about you and me?”

I stiffen before I can catch myself. In the courtroom, fully dressed and upright, I’ve worked hard to overcome that particular tell. Shoot. While my deal with Cruz is no state secret, it’s also not something I want to discuss right now.

“I told him the truth.”

After I left home, I added lies and compromises to my off-limits list. I vowed never to play emotional games in my relationships. The trailer park drama was enough for a lifetime. Sure, relationship drama can and does happen everywhere. It’s just that, as a kid, the trailer park was a very, very small stage for that kind of explosive shit.

“Shug.” Luc’s lips brush the top of my head in a gesture that is—just maybe—tender. He has this need to be in control. In charge. I get that he has responsibilities to his family—his pack—but when does he get to focus on what he needs? What we need? For our impulsive mating to work, we have a whole lot of talking to do. We need to figure out who we are together without inviting the pack into our bedroom. And I need to be sure that he’s the only man for me, to work out this impossible attraction I feel for both him and Cruz.

There’s a long silence as Luc settles himself around me.

“You should jus’ tell me.” Steel lies beneath the soft drawl. More orders, which is equal parts sexy and frustrating.

“I told him you wanted a week to explore our possible mating and the directions in which we could take it.”

“And?” He asks his question with the wolf’s instinct for the kill. He knows there’s more.

I swallow. “And then he asked for the next week.”

My emotions are one big mess of confused. I’ve spent the past ten years more or less living on my own. I reached out to Luc because I was ready for closure, ready to move on. And yeah, meeting Cruz was a powerful motivator. I feel something for the other man, although it’s definitely early days. I don’t know how to put those feelings into words. Yet.

“Shug.” Luc’s pet name for me comes out part groan, part sigh. Yeah. He sees the problems too. He isn’t angry, which shouldn’t surprise me. He’s too self-controlled to go the angry route.

“I told him yes.”

Yes.

She told my rival yes.

I force myself to relax, to not tense up. I might be a relationship virgin, but I watched my brothers screw up. Banging on my chest caveman style and bellowing mine won’t help.

Think of something to say. Something romantic. Heartfelt. Fucking poetic will do. If I’d known this heart-to-heart was coming, I’d have raided the Hallmark aisle. Instead it’s just the two of us, and while I love the way she has her arms wrapped around me, I don’t know what it means. Not anymore.

“Luc?”

Oui. Waiting for me to say something. But I have nothing. God, I’d give anything to erase this conversation. To be enough for her. Enough of a lover, enough of a man. Hell, it can’t even be the werewolf strike, since Cruz is also a shifter. It might have been a shock, but she’s clearly adapted. While I’m thinking happily ever after, she’s thinking about another man. If I was a better person or any kind of a gentleman, I’d let her go.

I want her waking up by my side every morning, and lying down next to me each night. I want to roll her beneath me and drive into her until I come and she screams my name because I’m the one making her feel good. I want to talk with her, tell her about my day, the things that drive me crazy, and the things that make me smile. And I want her to share all of those same details with me, unloading when work is bad and celebrating when life rains down good things.

She’s my mate. Fate or no fate, she’s my other half. She’s the woman who can keep my wolf in check, and she means fucking everything to me. So if she’s my mate, how come I’m not hers?

“Maybe we should forget I said that,” she whispers nervously.

How? My instincts apparently don’t come with an off switch. Even now, I’m running my fingers over her skin, marking her with my scent.

“You can tell me anything,” I say gruffly.

Her mouth moves against my chest. Smiling. Maybe I hit on the right thing to say after all.

“It’s not you.” She flattens her palm against my chest, as if she’s measuring my heartbeat.

Don’t ask me to let you go. I’m a wolf. We hold onto our own. And you’re mine.

“What did I do wrong?” Tell me, and I’ll fix it. I can find a way to earn a do-over, and next time I’ll get it right.

She closes her eyes. “Forget I said anything.”

“You promised Cruz you’d spend a week with him.”

“To get to know him. That doesn’t have to mean sex.”

I tighten my arm around her when she tries to shift away. “Don’ go.”

She sighs, as if putting more space between us is the best idea she’s ever had. “You have to stop giving me orders.”

“Help me to understand,” I suggest. “Please.”

Funny how one little word can be harder to get out than all the rest. It isn’t the magic word that opens up her heart to me, but she stops moving. Maybe that’s the best I can hope for. God, I don’t want to give her up. Seven nights was our beginning. I damned sure don’t want it to be our ending.

Which means I have to find the words to tell her exactly that.

“I would give you anything,” I say fiercely. “You can take that to the bank. You wan’ it, you got it. I have these feelings for you and they’re good ones. What’s wrong with us explorin’ that, takin’ time to get to know each other?”

“Nothing.” Her fingers draw restless circles on my chest. “But—”

“But you want to try out Cruz before you make any decisions about us.”

“It’s not that,” she admits. “You talk about having feelings for me, and I think I might share some of those feelings.”

I reach for her fingers, lacing them through mine. A primitive part of me, the human part, wants to put a ring there, to mark her for all to see. “Then what’s the problem, shug?”

“I think I might have those same feelings for Cruz,” she says in a small voice. “I know it’s crazy,” she adds in a rush. “You want me to spell it out? I can do that. I want to have my cake and eat it too. I want you both.”

Talk about a double whammy. I didn’t see that coming. She’s right. It’s crazy. I cup the back of her neck, threading my fingers through her hair. Both doesn’t mean instead of. It means I have a chance.

“You all never share?” The tone of her voice says she has specific for examples running through her head. I’m on thin ice.

“Sometimes.” I angle my head so I can see her eyes. Yeah. Someone’s been telling tales.

She snorts. “Sometimes? I’ve been in Port Leon one day, and I’ve already heard stories about your brothers, Dre and Landry. They’re legendary.”

“Were. Were legendary. Now they’re mated to Mary Jane.” No way my brothers violated Mary Jane’s trust. She’s the only female for them, and none of them would change that.

“They share her,” Gianna says smugly. “I rest my case.”

Well, yeah. At least, I assume so. Some things I don’t need to know. As long as the three of them stay happy, the details are unnecessary.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” I tell her.

“Okay,” she echoes, sounding happy, and suddenly I can’t remember why I have so many objections to inviting Cruz into our bed.