Free Idler (Norseton Wolves Book 3) by Holley Trent Page A

kid. That seems to be the smartest place.”
    Releasing her wrist, he groaned and let his head fall back. “Depends on what your goal is. If your goal is to get me pissy and agitated, that’s a pretty good place.”
    “It’s hard to be pissy when you’re naked, so take off your clothes.”
    “You’re kidding me.” He straightened up and found her leaning onto the bed’s edge with her dark gaze leveled at him. No smile, no smirk. In fact, she seemed to be grinding her teeth a bit. His mate didn’t like to be kept waiting, apparently.
    Well, go ahead , his inner wolf said. She’s waiting.
    Standing, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it toward the closet. He cringed, picked it up, and carried it inside to the hamper. No reason to create more work for myself. While he was in there, he got rid of his boots, socks, jeans, and underwear. When he returned to the room, covering his shamefully erect cock, she gestured to the center of the bed.
    “On your belly.”
    “Why?”
    She folded her arms over her chest and stared at him.
    “What’s that stern look for?”
    “Sometimes, why is just a cowardly way of saying no . If you want to say no, say no, and tell me you don’t trust me.”
    “I do trust you.” He really did, in spite of her managing to shake him to his core with every fucking conversation. She was difficult to be around, but she wasn’t untrustworthy.
    “I’m glad. I want to trust you, too, but you need to teach me that I can. You haven’t been around, so I don’t know you. I need to know you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you’re my mate.”
    Such a simple fucking answer. The right answer.
    He crawled onto the bed and settled into the middle, adjusting his cock beneath his belly.
    He looked over his shoulder and found her perched on the edge of the armchair, wriggling out of her jeans.
    Are we going to…?
    He hoped they were. He’d been aching to make love to his mate for weeks, and it’d been so fucking hard not to just ask her to take him out of his misery. Her scent had nearly driven him insane, and his inner wolf blamed him for everything that kept him from her. He wanted to be inside her, holding her— holding her, fuck’s sake—and letting her convince him he wasn’t as big of a fuck-up as he’d always been told.
    She skimmed soft, warm fingers up his calves and as far as she could reach without climbing over the bed. She rubbed the backs of his legs and sent prickling pulls up to his crotch that made his ass clench. “How tall are you, Colt?”
    “Why?”
    “Christina said the subspecies of wolves you guys originate from seem to be taller on average. I think she’s right.” She climbed onto the bed and straddled the backs of his thighs.
    “I don’t know if it’s the subspecies or if it’s just that people with enough power to be alpha tend to be larger than average. And I was six-three, the last time I was measured.”
    “Wolf average is five-ten. Ask me how I know.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Because I love numbers. Data. It’s orderly.”
    “Unlike real life?”
    “Yeah.” She pressed her palms at the base of his spine and worked upward, undoing every tight knot and sending tightening tugs around to his groin, which was already tight enough as it was. “I can’t imagine you as an alpha.”
    He pressed his palms to the mattress, ready to push up, but she inched up him, her ass on his, and pushed his shoulders toward the bed. “Don’t get bent out of shape, wolf.”
    Not fuckin’ again. He pushed up once more, and whipped his head around to look at her. “Do not call me that,” he snapped. “My name is Colt.”
    She flinched and yanked her hands back as if he’d burned her. “Wolf, you mean?”
    “Yes. That .”
    “That makes you angry?”
    “I have a name.”
    “I figured you wouldn’t mind a nickname. You said it yourself—you all have them.”
    “Not that one. Don’t call me that again.”
    “I’m not trying to be mean. It’s what you