Vic’s eyes narrowed on her, the gold lighter than usual. Lighter and brighter and untrusting. “You better not be lying to me,” he warned, his low voice nothing more at this point than an angry growl. “You know I hate it when you lie to me.”

Livy leaned in, placed a soft kiss on Vic’s mouth. A small one. Then another. And another. Moving from one spot to another. Teasing him. Sometimes nibbling his lip here, then there.

She had no idea how long she kept it up. Livy simply lost herself in it. Enjoying the feel of her mouth against Vic’s.

But suddenly, Vic made a chuffing sound, and he gripped Livy’s head between his hands, holding her in place. That’s when he took her mouth. His lips pressed hard against hers. Livy opened to him and Vic’s tongue was immediately there. Seeking, exploring. Taking over as felines like to do.

It felt . . . perfect.

Like the perfect picture. Maybe you didn’t know it was perfect when you shot it, but then you saw it on a print or on your screen and you knew. You knew. And this time, with Vic, it was the same thing. Weird . . . then perfect.

Vic pulled away, both of them gasping for air. He set her down, not gently, either.

“Get naked,” he barked at her. “And get upstairs.” Then he walked off.

Kind of confused about which she should do first—shouldn’t she go upstairs and then get naked? If she got naked down here, then she’d have to get dressed down here tomorrow—Livy just stood there.

A few seconds later, Vic stalked back into the living room.

“Too long,” he barked, picking her up around the waist, and securing her under his arm like so much laundry.

It would be humiliating if it was anyone else. Anyone else in the entire world. But it was Vic. Polite, sweetly charming, socially inept Vic.

Livy was just so entertained by this new side of him that she really didn’t give a shit where he carried her.

As long as he fucked her once he got there.

Vic took Livy to the master bedroom. His careful, practical bear side had gone into hibernation a good ten minutes ago. Now, all that was left was the cranky feline that had made Vic give up dating full-human girls when he was seventeen. They couldn’t handle the cranky feline when it came out. Few could.

And yet, when he threw Livy on the bed, she laughed. Hard.

Deciding that Livy’s laughter meant she was still taking too long to get naked, Vic reached down and yanked off her boots. He didn’t even bother to untie them. Couldn’t wait. Didn’t want to.

Once he’d done that, Livy had only managed to get her jeans unzipped, which, again . . . not fast enough!

Honestly, how hard was it for a woman not wearing many clothes in the first place to get said clothes off in a timely manner?

Vic caught hold of the waistband of Livy’s jeans and yanked them down. They were kind of tight, though, so he had to lift her legs up and drag them off. Livy’s legs flipped over her head andshe ended up rolling backward until she rested on her knees. Now she only wore the T-shirt. He must have taken off her panties along with her jeans.

Startled black eyes blinked up at him, her hands resting on her bare knees.

“You all right?” Vic asked.

“Yep.”

Taking Livy at her word, he took a step toward her.

“Condoms?” Livy asked.

“What?”

“Con. Doms. Remember those?” She pointed at her crotch. “No one gets in here without one.”

Annoyed he hadn’t thought about that before now, Vic growled and looked around the room. He didn’t think Rita kept any in her houses unless you specified an “adult weekend” when the reservations were made. But the thought of leaving a nearly naked Livy to go hunt some down through Honeyville was bringing his fangs out.

“Get my backpack,” Livy suddenly ordered him.

“What?”

“My backpack. You brought it in the house, didn’t—”

Vic didn’t wait for her to finish. He just stalked out of the room and went to search out her backpack.

He found it in the kitchen, grabbed it, and returned to the bedroom.

Livy was still kneeling on the bed, appearing completely calm. “Open the back pocket and go into the zippered compartment.”

Vic did as ordered. Without looking, he located the zippered pocket with his fingers and opened it. He reached in and pulled out a long strip of condoms. Eyes narrowing, he focused on Livy.

“What?” she asked.

“You just carry around piles of condoms?”

“In case I feel like taking on the hockey team one night. You know, when I’m bored.”

“Can you ever give me a straight answer?”

“Maybe when you ask me a question that suggests one of the photographers I trained with told me exactly what to include in my backpack and travel bags so that I was always prepared for any situation rather than strongly suggesting I’m a whore.”

Vic blew out a breath. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

“Sorry.”

“Feeling a little possessive there, Barinov?”

“Kind of.”

“Don’t feel bad. One might suggest I’ve been feeling a little possessive about you lately.”

Shocked at that admission, Vic gawked at Livy. “Really?”

“Did you see me haul off and slap Melly outside the precinct?”

“Everyone saw you slap Melly.”

“Well, although there are many reasons I should slap the shit out of Melly Kowalski, in this particular instance I did it because she suggested that she wouldn’t mind ‘nailing that,’ when pointing you out to me. Her words. And I wanted to make it clear to her that I was not okay with her nailing anything. Especially you.”