When they arrived back at Darien’s house, Tom escorted her to her room. “You might need a bodyguard tonight.”

She smiled up at him, touching his sweater-covered chest. “Do you always like to live dangerously?”

He laughed. “Sorry, Elizabeth. I can’t see that you would be too rough on me.”

“You never know.” She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted whatever they could have just this once. No strings. No mating. Just a meeting of the minds. And their bodies, as far as they could take it and still not be mated wolves.

“’Night, Elizabeth.” He waited for her response. A kiss. A hug maybe.

Trying to discourage anything more between them and annoyed with herself for getting so worked up over any man, she kissed him on the cheek. “’Night, Tom.”

She walked into the bedroom and realized she couldn’t take off her clothes without his help. She turned and frowned. He watched her, waiting for her to retire for the night. She wondered if he believed she might try to leave and do something further about the guys who had injured her. But she had no intention of going anywhere else tonight.

“Okay, I really, really hate to ask this because it’s such an imposition, but… could you help me out of my clothes again?”

***

Undressing Elizabeth one more time was way more than an imposition. It killed Tom to see her naked skin and not be able to taste it, to feel it, to smell her sweet scent and want more.

He waited a moment, trying to find the right words, and finally said, “You’re killing me, you know?” He shook his head, smiling, and turned toward his bedroom. “I’ll get one of my shirts for you. It’ll probably be a while before they bring you your bags.”

When he returned with the softest blue-plaid flannel shirt he owned, he found her sitting on the bed, her parka on a chair. He closed the bedroom door. She stretched her arms up to him so that he could remove her sweater.

“If I keep removing your clothes, something more is bound to happen,” he said, hopeful, yet practical.

“So… let it.”

He raised a brow, not sure what she was agreeing to. He pulled the sweater over her head and stared down at her mouthwatering breasts, then shifted his gaze to her face. “If you kiss me again…” He let his words trail off, waiting to hear what she had in mind.

“You’re supposed to kiss me—to make the hurt go away.” She raised her foot. He pulled off one boot and then the other.

He thought she meant more than the physical pain. He wondered what she’d experienced that had made her a loner. He was so used to helping others that he wanted to help her, too. But his feelings went deeper than that.

The cold wind blew against the closed window, but the room was toasty warm. He wasn’t in any hurry to undress her or to help her into his flannel shirt or to leave her. She stood and he removed her jeans. He hesitated to take off her panties, thinking to help her put his shirt on, when she climbed onto the bed and pulled the covers over herself.

He picked up his flannel shirt off the bed. “Didn’t you want me to help you into this?”

“Kiss me,” she said.

“A good-night kiss,” he said. Yet he didn’t think she meant that.

Her smile was wicked.

“If I kiss you the way I want to, it’s bound to go a lot further than that this time.” He had to be honest with her. He wanted a lot more. Not a mating, but something that said he wanted to go further later if they were both agreeable.

“I count on it,” she said, reaching up to tug at his belt loop.

He was out of his clothes in a flash, making her smile. He pulled the covers aside, slid over to her side of the bed, and began kissing her again—cheeks, mouth, throat, shoulders—his hands sliding all over her soft skin. He kept telling himself he wasn’t ready to mate her, but his body said otherwise.

***

Elizabeth knew she was nuts to encourage this. The last man she’d trusted with her heart had stomped all over it and left her, so she hadn’t felt this way toward anyone since. She knew Tom lusted after her because she was someone new and different, and this wasn’t for the long term. Which suited her perfectly.

She thought she could do this—a bit of sexual release and then go about her business, return home, do her job.

She wanted this intimacy between wolves and her coyote half. Wanted to feel loved, if only for a fleeting moment. Wanted to savor the way his pheromones kicked up as he kissed her, touched her, lusted for her, making her own respond in kind. A wolf who would want a woman for a lifetime. Not a human who could ditch her for someone else at the drop of a hat. Not that any of this meant it was for a lifetime.

She kissed him back on the mouth, her hands curling in his hair as he molded a hand to her breast. She realized he observed her, studying her expression, analyzing it, wondering what was going on in her brain. She didn’t want to consider it any further and pulled him down for another kiss.

His hand tightened on her breast as he moved his leg in between hers. He had removed all his clothes, even his boxers, and that had worried her a little. She hoped he didn’t think she wanted a mating.

Still, she had left her panties on, which was a signal she didn’t want to take this all the way. At least in her mind.

When he moved his leg in between hers, prying her open, she felt the exhilaration of sexual tension but also a little apprehension.

Caught up in the heat of passion, she rubbed her leg wickedly on top of his, his mouth not so gentle on hers now. She loved the roughness alternating with tenderness.