Another moment of silence, a growl, and then the front door slammed shut. Cool hands grabbed his jaw and lifted his head. “Look at me.”

He did…and Christ, those eyes.

“I bet it’s that fever. I told you it hadn’t finished with you yet.”

“I’ll be okay. Really. I’m sure I’m only tired.”

“Come on.” She took his arm and put it around her shoulders. “We’re taking you to bed before you pass out or start running down Fifth Avenue on all fours.”

Brendon let her help him up, and he led her straight to his bedroom. As she helped him onto his bed and proceeded to take off his boots, he realized that yes, he would be going to hell for lying his ass off.

Somehow he knew, though, that Ronnie Lee Reed would be worth every second he’d burn.

He could be faking it. Hell, he probably was faking it.

And if she were to be real honest with herself, she didn’t really care. He’d given her a guilt-free excuse to come right back inside and take this man to bed…uh…to help him through the fever. She wouldn’t get into bed with him.

Unless he needed her to.

Clearing her throat, she dropped his frighteningly large work boots at the side of the bed. “We should…uh…get your jeans off, too.”

“Okay.” He pushed himself up on his elbows and let out that sigh again.

“Now don’t go exerting yourself. I don’t mind helping.” Yeah. Helping. She didn’t mind helping one bit.

Forcing herself to be completely impartial, she reached for his jeans. “We’ll get you out of these and into bed. By morning you should be right as rain.”

She pulled his jeans down past his hips, realizing too late the man wore no underwear. Swallowing past the lump of lust in her throat, she locked her knees tight and yanked his jeans down his legs.

“I really appreciate you taking care of me like this.”

“Oh, it’s no bother.” No bother at all when a man had thighs like these. Big. Hard. Perfect. She could “hee haw” her way to orgasm on those thighs.

Crouching at the end of the bed to finish pulling off his jeans, she tried not to think about the mouthwatering cock a few inches from her mouth. She didn’t do very well, but she did really try.

“Ronnie?”

Ronnie closed her eyes. If you look at him, you’re a goner. Whatever you do, don’t look at him.

“Ronnie. Look at me.”

Damn, damn, damn!

Still crouching by the bed, Ronnie slowly lifted her head.

“Open your eyes.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Okay. Keep ’em closed.”

Strong hands gently gripped her face, big fingers sliding into her hair, angling her head a little up and to the side.

“Keep ’em closed,” he whispered, his warm breath against her mouth. “Keep ’em closed and just kiss me, Ronnie Lee.”

Shaw’s lips brushed hers. Tongue stroking, teeth nipping. Ronnie grabbed hold of his wrists and whimpered. She opened her mouth, and Shaw dived in. His tongue tangling with hers, both of them groaning.

Then, with his fingers still buried in her hair, he pulled her to her feet. Before she could even blink, he had her on her back across his lion-sized bed.

Yup. Goner.

Chapter Eight

A bsolutely. This woman was absolutely worth any stint in hell he may have to do. Her smell. Her taste. That canine “yip” sound she’d make every time he nipped her neck. All of those things were driving the lion buried inside him out of control.

“Christ, you smell good.”

Ronnie didn’t answer him, but slid her hands under his sweater and yanked it up. He stopped kissing her long enough for her to pull the sweater over his head and throw it across the room.

“If you value your clothes,” he said while kissing her throat, “you’ll get them off in the next thirty seconds. I won’t be responsible for what happens after that.”

She pulled out of their kiss and dragged her body out from under his.

“My daddy’s,” she explained about the T-shirt before it went sailing across the room. Her lace bra went flying next.

“No,” he growled low. “The boots stay on.”

Brendon had never met a female who looked at him with such raw sexual hunger. Exactly like the way Ronnie looked at him now, her hands sliding up the cowboy boot she’d been seconds from taking off, up her leg, until she reached the fly of her shorts. Clasp opened, zipper down, and then she wriggled that gorgeous body out of the scraps of denim.

“Come here,” he ordered, and watched with narrow eyes as she backed away from him, still on her knees.

Her lips curved into a smile and her eyes shifted from human to wolf. She reached the top of his bed, shoving his pillows to the floor before leaning back against his headboard, her arms hooked over the top.

She spread her knees wide so he could see the wetness of her pussy and her trembling thighs. Softly, she said, “If you want this, hoss, you better come over here and get it.”

No one had ever accused Ronnie of being shy. If she knew what she wanted, she went after it without a second’s thought. Being wolf, this wasn’t exactly surprising.

This bit of her character put off most human men or attracted the really scummy ones. Wolf males saw a challenge. A chance to dominate. They always thought they had to. And once they made her come they thought they owned her. They were always so shocked when they woke up in the morning and found her long gone.