Free Merrily Mated (Ouachita Mountain Shifters 3) by P. Jameson Page B

won’t know how much I’ve healed until I shift.”
    “Doc says our bond might not be strong enough to fix the damage.”
    Her brow furrowed until a tiny line formed above her nose. In an instant, he could feel anger rolling off her, replacing the stillness between them. “You know what, fuck that. Doc doesn’t know shit about us. No one does. She can go fuck herself—”
    He pressed his lips against hers, stopping her tirade before she got even more riled. It did more than shut her up though. It took the wind right out of her sails and made her soft and pliable again. She was the Layna from last night but without the fog of the tranq. And it made him wonder, was this the female he’d admired all these years when her defenses were down? Was this what an exposed Layna was like, opening herself up to him? Or was this still just about recovering.
    Sweeping his tongue along the opening of her lips, he relished the plush feel, and when she opened, he dove inside, tasting every hot inch of her mouth. His heart pounded in his chest wanting out. He’d hand it right to her if he could. It was hers anyway. After this, he’d never kiss another.
    Her tongue danced with his this time, in a careful, searching waltz. As if she was memorizing every moment of the kiss, every move that kept them joined. As if she’d want to recreate it in the future.
    Ryan pulled back to stare into her eyes, shocked by what he saw there. Tears. Big, bulging tears that threatened to overspill her lids. He wanted to rage against them. Wipe them from her cheeks and learn where they came from so he could make sure they never surfaced again.
    His woman crying ripped a fucking hole in his chest.
    But this was Layna. She’d never want to seem weak. She’d want him to ignore the tears, pretend she hadn’t broke.
    “You have such a dirty mouth,” he murmured in appreciation.
    “You’ve always known that,” she defended, her bottom lip jutting in defiance. “You never seemed to mind.”
    “Yes, but I never got to taste it.”
    She eyed him, her teeth coming down on that lip. Damn it, she was sexy like that.
    “What’s it taste like?”
    “It’s downright filthy. Makes me want to lick it clean.”
    He watched as her eyes grew wide, the tears forgotten, and he swooped in for another hot kiss. Layna’s fingers tangled in his hair as their mouth’s clashed, urgent and needy and wet. Pushing her back against the bed, Ryan rose up to straddle her waist.
    Somehow, he broke away from her mouth long enough to rip his shirt over his head. Tossing it aside, he found her lips again, sucking the bottom one until she released a little moan.
    God, the sounds she made. They were the sweetest candy for his ears.
    “But Doc’s not wrong is she?” he breathed against her jaw between kisses. “Our connection is weak.”
    “It’s stronger now,” she defended.
    He nipped the curve between her neck and shoulder before licking a path up to her ear. Pulling the lobe between his lips, he sucked it. “And I know how to make it stronger.”
    Leaning back on his knees, he let his gaze roam her naked body. She seemed to like his perusal as he swept from her beautiful eyes to her mouth that drove him crazy, and lower until he landed on her full dark-tipped breasts. They were perfect. More than a handful, and needing his mouth on them so badly.
    His erection pushed painfully against the zipper of his jeans.
    Ryan swallowed hard. He wanted them to be his. He wanted all of her to be his. And forever. But right now, this was about something else.
    “You’re beautiful, Layna. So fucking beautiful it’s hard to breathe.” Shit. Could he do this? Could he do it without losing a piece of his soul?
    She frowned, and it seemed out of place with the rest of her. The sex-kitten shouldn’t look so disturbed when he was about to make love to her.
    “Ryan?”
    “Yes, love.”
    The creases around her eyes softened a touch. “Why do you look so sad?”
    He tried to smile.