Free Wesley by Bailey Bradford

Armando is about come-ons. But you”—she tipped her chin towards Wes—“you he runs from.”
    As if Wes hadn’t noticed. “I haven’t—”
    “So I have to wonder why that is,” Alisa barrelled right over him verbally. Wes began to suspect she had just waited for him to speak so she could do so. He’d swear there was a sparkle in her brown eyes proclaiming it. “I mean, Armando isn’t a coward. Not when it comes to other people, at least, but I’m beginning to think maybe he’s scared of himself.”
    “That makes no sense,” Wes said in a rush. Then he wished he hadn’t spoken, because it made a lot of sense. Armando was scared of what he felt, maybe didn’t even understand it if he didn’t know they were mates. And who would have told him they were? Not Wes, but he’d thought maybe Armando knew about that stuff from being around shifters. As for Wes, he didn’t trust himself, his judgement, and hadn’t in a long while. He was beginning to see that he’d deliberately put himself in a bad situation just because he thought so little of himself. There was no reason for it, either. He had a good family—
    “Yes, it does. It makes perfect sense and I should have seen it earlier.” Alisa sniffed and actually tilted her chin up, putting her nose in the air. “If you want to be a dick and argue about it, then you’ll miss your chance to go ask Armando how he’s doing. He should be in the parking lot about now, since he was going to go check on—”
    Wes figured it was his turn to cut Alisa off. “Thanks!” He turned and ran for the back door that opened to the parking area.
    In under ten seconds he was through the door and zeroing in on the man walking between two battered trucks. Wes closed the door silently, his leopard purring softly inside him as he watched the smooth, sensual movements of Armando’s body. The man moved like sex and chocolate, or what Wes imagined sex should be like. His cock began to firm up and he lowered his head, watching Armando much like he watched prey when he was hunting in his cat form.
    Heat curled inside of Wes, tight coils that burned him with a need he’d never felt so intensely before. His sexual experience last night had made him crave more—more sex, a more intense connection—just more of everything with Armando. He wanted Armando badly.
    Armando fascinated him, with his hidden body and handsome face. Wes wanted to bury his fingers in that blue-black hair, thick and curled at the collar, and stare into those eyes, so dark a brown they almost merged with his pupils.
    And Armando’s ass, oh yeah, Wes wanted some of that. Just thinking about it made Wes’ mouth water and his cock throb. Wes had seen Armando bending over before, when he’d been helping to unload a supply order they’d received. Despite the baggy clothing he wore, Armando’s ass had been on display when he’d bent to lift a box. Wes had been struck stupid standing there, ogling Armando’s butt. And at Remus’ house, Wes had seen the plump curve of Armando’s ass beneath his shorts.
    It looked padded, like it’d be soft and squeezable, not hard as stone. Wes wanted to touch it, to knead that flesh and mark it with his hands and teeth. God, he was aching for Armando to the point where Wes thought he’d die if he couldn’t have him. Literally die from it.
    He kept his steps light, not wanting to alert Armando to his presence just yet. Otherwise, Armando might just run to his vehicle and leave before Wes got a chance to talk to him. What he would say when he did, Wes didn’t know, but with his luck it’d probably be gibberish or something totally not smooth like Can I fuck that sweet ass?
    But as quietly as Wes stalked, it wasn’t enough. He was barely six feet from the back door when Armando, several yards away, stiffened then turned, pinning Wes in place with a dark look.

    Despite the exhaustion still clouding his head, which usually muted out everything else, Armando felt Wes’