Free Wilder's Mate by Moira Rogers Page B

heading for a fight with a lady in tow? You’re a bigger fool than I thought.”
    “The lady can take care of herself.”
    That warmed her a little. Enough to let her take a step back. Toward Wilder. “Please tell us.” Archer didn’t relax, though his expression cleared. “His name is Thaddeus Lowe. Ever heard of him?” Wilder tensed again. “Some.”
    “Some?” Satira demanded, panic rising. Wilder’s reaction was enough to scare half of the life out of her. “Is it worse than you expected?”
    It was Archer who answered. “Lowe is a shrewd son of a bitch. Mean. It won’t be easy getting close, but I might be able to get it done.”
    “I’ll do anything,” she whispered. “ Anything .”
    “Satira.” Wilder rose and stepped in front of her. “I’d be much obliged, Arch. We have to get Nate out of there.”
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    Wilder’s Mate
    The other bloodhound nodded and dropped his hat back on his head as he stood. “I’ll be in touch. This time tomorrow at the latest.”
    Archer left, leaving Satira staring at Wilder’s rigid back as the door clicked shut again. “Wilder?” He turned slowly, releasing a shaky breath. “Didn’t like having him so close, that’s all.” It took her a moment to understand, and even when she did, she didn’t quite believe it. “So close to me?”
    He didn’t meet her gaze. “Sorry. I’m usually much more reasonable.” Perhaps it wasn’t proper to feel a kindling warmth in her belly. She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “I have never had a man be unreasonable about me before.” Wilder laughed a little. “You sound pleased.”
    “It’s…” Thrilling. Exciting. Soothing, to think someone had strong enough emotions regarding her to behave irrationally. Soothing to matter to someone. “It’s pleasing. In moderation.” His hands framed her hips, pulled her close. “I’ll bear that in mind.” Satira turned her head and rested her cheek against his shoulder with a soft sigh. “Then tomorrow, we’ll know how to find Nate.”
    He sobered. “Tomorrow. You should get some rest tonight.”
    It wasn’t the loss of his promised wickedness that hurt, but the warmth and comfort of having his strong body curled around hers. “Alone?”
    “You can sleep with me,” he told her, “but I do mean sleep .” She tried to hide her smile against his shoulder. “As long as you keep my feet warm.”
    “That’s the only thing hounds are good for, sweetheart.”
    It sounded like a warning. Perhaps he didn’t care for the way she held him, the way she’d snuggled up against him. Too intimate, too expectant. Satira stepped back and reminded herself that having a man’s lust could be a long way from having his regard. Her words must be lighthearted. Teasing. “You’re skilled at keeping all of me warm.”
    His eyes were dark, and he closed his hands around her arms. “Don’t figure you’d agree to stay here tomorrow.”
    If he’d bedded her for the last few nights in hopes of making her more agreeable to being left behind, he’d be sorely disappointed. “Don’t figure I would.”
    He sighed. “Thought so.”
    She had one point on which she had every intention of digging her heels in. “And I’ll be wearing something reasonable. So if you’d like to spend a moment admiring my tits, you’d best do it now.” Finally, he unbent enough to smile. “Tonight, perhaps, before we sleep.” So there’d be one more night of furtive touches and desperate pleasure. “Take me to bed, Wilder Harding. I yearn for your admiration.”

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    47

    Moira Rogers
    He kissed her, a glancing brush of his lips on hers. “Now?”
    “I’m only hungry for one thing.”
    Wilder lifted her suddenly and set her on the nearest table, his hands hard on her hips, his breath hot on her ear. “Here?”
    Her heart skipped. The hunger in his voice, in his grip… It was everything she’d craved without knowing it. Not a bloodhound