Psy & Changelings 06 - Branded by Fire

her want to lick her lips. But she kept up the slow, seductive show. Because—and quite aside from the fact that he’d acted like an ass, but then turned up to take the heat—it was Riley’s turn. He was an incredibly generous lover. She knew if she walked out to him and whispered an erotic request in his ear, he’d give her exactly what she wanted. Of course, his generosity also allowed him to retain control.
    Mercy wasn’t planning on letting that happen tonight. Because if they were doing this—and it appeared they were—then they were doing it together.
    Stroking the loofah over her stomach, she spread her legs just a fraction . . . and dipped between.
    He breathed out something that turned the air blue and placed the bottle on the ground before putting his hands on the bottom of his T-shirt.
    Her eyes narrowed as he ripped it off to expose that mouth-watering chest. “You’ve got new bruises.”
    “They’ll heal. And I wanted a fight.” His hands went to the top of his jeans.
    “I didn’t say you could touch,” she murmured, watching him toe off his boots.
    “Yeah, you did.” He unsnapped his jeans. “I scented it bright and clear.”
    She stroked herself between her legs, aware his eyes hadn’t moved off her hand. “Ah, the good behavior’s over?”
    “Something like that.” The jeans and underwear were kicked aside and he was walking over, stark male demand in every step.
    He took the loofah from her hand. “Put your hands above your head.”
    The command in his voice curled around her, making her center throb. She’d always known she’d need a strong man so that didn’t worry her. As long as what went on in bed, stayed in bed. Or in the shower. “Are you going to break my trust again, Riley?” There could be no mistakes, no blurred lines here.
    He met her eyes full on. “Not on purpose. Never on purpose.” He took a deep breath. “But I’m likely to fuck up when the wolf’s riding me.”
    It was her turn to be surprised. “I should kick you out of this shower right now.”
    “Probably.” Then he kissed her. “But you don’t seem like the kind of woman who’d let fuckups ride.”
    She smiled. “No.” Raising her hands, she crossed them above her head. “But, Riley, I’ll only bend so far. You can’t meet me halfway, this will end.” It wasn’t a threat. No, it was something far more important.
    And he understood. “I’ll try, Mercy. I’ll give it everything I have.” It was a raw promise, from the heart of the wolf, from the soul of the man.
    It would do, she thought, her own heart clenching. It would do. Because Riley would honor that promise with everything in him. And if it didn’t work, if they were both too strong-willed, too stubborn, to meet in the middle, it wouldn’t be because they hadn’t tried. And it would hurt like hell. She knew that. Accepted that. And decided to give it a shot. “Tell me, Riley,” she said, teasing, “what would you do to me if there were no boundaries?”
    He dropped the loofah and replaced it with his fingers. “Tying you up sounds like a good idea.”
    “So, staid Riley Kincaid has a kinky secret.” She moved on his fingers, relishing the building tightness in her body, the sheer pleasure on his face. “Do you have a whip?”
    “With you, it might come in handy.” His fingers slid inside her.
    And she came.
    Just like that.
    A wild burst of ecstasy that swept over her in short, jagged waves and left her breathless. Chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm, she looked up through lids gone half-mast. “You didn’t even kiss me properly. What kind of a woman do you think I am?”
    “The kind that means trouble.” But he bent his head and gave her a kiss straight out of her hottest dreams, all tongue and demand and sex. When they parted, he put his hands on her hips, as if to lift her up.
    “Wait.” Pushing him back until his body blocked the water, she shook off his hands and sank down to her knees.
    His hand fisted in her hair, and when she looked up, it was the wolf’s eyes that she met. She knew hers had gone cat at orgasm, and she let them remain that way. Gaze locked with his, she put her hands on his thighs . . . and used her mouth on him.
    His grip on her hair tightened almost enough to hurt before he let go, slamming both hands palms-down on the tile in front of him. “Mercy!”
    Smiling, she flicked her tongue along the underside of his erection, and purred. Debauching Riley was the most