“Hell yeah!” She jumped to her feet yet again. Yeah, I definitely understood why she had such strong hamstrings.
Suddenly, her arms were wrapping around my shoulders as she pulled me into a hug.
It wasn’t the most natural position, considering that I was seated and she was standing, but there was enough of a height difference between us that it wasn’t awkward. At least, it wasn’t until she started talking to me, her face just an inch away from mine.
“You won’t regret this, I swear. And now that I don’t have to worry about trying to pussyfoot around the emotion stuff, we can really get down to brass tacks. I’ve already got a plan of how to get more information out of the cross-stitching woman and the biker with the kitten, and I think I can get in touch with theguitar witch too. We’re going to find out who killed your father and brother, and we’re going to make sure that not a single hair on your siblings’ heads will be touched. Even Chris’s!”
She said it with such passion, such joy, that it was hard not to be swept up in her fervor. Maybe her mother was right, and I was being subconsciously influenced by her emotions, but I didn’t really care. I was coming off adrenaline, anger, and an emotional cocktail that normally took a therapy session and some shifter-grade alcohol to get through.
And maybe that was why I kissed her.
I didn’t make a conscious choice of it. One moment I was looking at her, amused by herjoie de vivre, the next our lips were crashing together. I was caught up in the wild woman in front of me in a way I never could have expected, but at the same time, I wasn’t resisting.
Not even a little.
As much as the kiss was unplanned, and definitely unwise, it lasted only a moment. Just long enough for my brain to kick in and ask me what the hell I was doing.
I jerked my head back and let go of Cherry, but she didn’t let go ofme.Suddenly, the happy expression on her lovely face morphed into something much more heated, her normally bright eyes cloudy and half-lidded.
“You kissed me,” she whispered. If her tone had been anything else, I would have worried that I offended her. Butoffensewas far from the expression on her face.
“I did,” I answered matter-of-factly. I’d told her not to lie to me again, so why would I ever lie to her? It would make me a hypocrite. I might have been an idiot, but I wasn’tthat.
Her arms tightened around my shoulders, and she leaned her head down so her lipsalmostbrushed mine as she spoke.
“Do it again.”
A tempting idea, but both my wolf and the parts of myself that I didn’t often pay attention to rose to the surface at the challenge in her voice. I stood, one of my hands gently wrapping around her neck.
Not to squeeze, not to mark, but just letting her feel the weight of it resting like a necklace.
Hmm… she would look beautiful with a mating collar on.
That thought managed to shake me out of my reverie, and I jerked my hand back to my side. If Cherry found it awkward, she didn’t say so. Instead, her grin grew defiant, and she stared into my eyes.
“I saiddo it again.”
The day had not gone at all how I’d expected. I’d experienced such a gauntlet of emotions that now I just wantedrelease.To give in to my primal side and stop having tothinkso much.
It was reckless. Inappropriate. But why deny myself when Cherry was so adamant?
How long had it been since I’d allowed myself to indulge my more carnal side? Too long. Far too long.
“Ask nicely,” I rumbled. This time, when I rested my hand on her neck, I didn’t let go immediately. No, I stared down at her, daring her to keep challenging me while simultaneously keeping an eye (or rather a nose) on her pheromones. All I could scent was attraction, lust, and keen interest.
A stunningly potent combination.
The smile that spread across Cherry’s face was unrepentant, unabashed, undilutedsin.All wickedness and temptation.
And I didn’t mind it.
She pushed up on her tiptoes, pressing her neck into my palm, demanding more pressure as she started up into my eyes. Could I really forget everything she’d done so quickly? Did she and the cross-stitching honeypot have more in common than just yarn arts?
“Make. Me.”
Who the fuck cares?
The practical Paul, the logical Paul, went bye-bye, and I kissed her for all I was worth.