I have no plans to die a virgin.
He was no lover for a virgin, especially now, with his control so ragged it was in fucking shreds. Hell, he’d probably scare her so bad she’d never want to have sex again. “It’s complicated.”
“Huh.” Rosalie didn’t sound convinced, but his sat phone rang before she could grill him any further.
Answering it, he was surprised to hear José’s voice. “It’s Luc’s turn,” he said curtly, in no mood to babysit packmates who should know better. If they got into shit tonight, he’d let them cool their heels in jail.
The bar owner blew out a breath. “I’m thinking you don’t want another man handling your girl.”
Hawke’s claws sliced out. “Anyone touches her, they’re dead.”
“She’s fine—if you don’t count the amount of alcohol she’s slugging back . . . or the cat keeping her warm.”
Hawke’s growl rolled up out of his chest to color the air. “Make damn sure she doesn’t leave with him.” Stabbing the End button, he looked up to find Rosalie grinning from ear to ear. “Quiet.”
“Hey, I’m just an innocent bystander.” She raised her hands. “Though you might want to take off your mean face before you go get her.”
“She can bloody well deal with it.” It was a snarl.
SIENNA surreptitiously passed “her” sixth shot to Kit.
He made a face. “Did you have to order this girly shit?”
“I am a girl, in case you failed to notice.” The vodkas she’d ordered earlier had been easier to get rid of—the colorless liquid blended in with the empty or ice cube–filled glasses the wait staff cleared away on a regular basis. The shots, on the other hand, would stick out.
Shuddering, Kit made quick work of the butterscotch liqueur and slid the glass over before anyone was the wiser as to who had taken the actual shot.
“Dear God that was foul.” He gulped his beer. “That’s the last one I’m doing for you.”
“I think that should do the trick. José’s giving me the eye.” Sienna smiled goofily at the bartender, playing drunk.
The big deer changeling gave her a stare as flat as any wolf’s.
Deciding not to push her luck, she dipped her head toward Kit—to find him looking unexpectedly serious. “What is it?”
“I know you’ve got strong feelings for Hawke,” he said, angling his shoulders to face her, “but are you ready for where this, tonight, might lead?”
Sienna had asked herself the same question and found only one answer. “I’ll never know unless he gives us a chance.” She closed her hand over Kit’s.
“Maybe I’ll discover I’ve taken on more than I can handle,” she admitted, because Hawke was never going to be an easy lover—if she even got him to consider the idea of a relationship. “But I know, I know, that I can’t sit by and watch him go to another woman.”
An intent gaze. “You’ve really thought about it.”
“Yes.” Whatever happened, continuing on as they had—with the relentless beat of unresolved tension between them—was no longer an option. “Doesn’t mean I’m not nervous.”
Kit turned up his hand to squeeze hers, a feline smile in his eyes. “My money’s on you.”
Leaning forward to press her lips to his cheek, she said, “When should I climb on the bar again?”
“Given the time José made the call, and how fast Hawke is probably driving, I’d say in about two minutes.”
“Good.” Picking up her cell phone from where it sat on the bar, she tucked it into a back pocket, having not brought a purse. “That gives you two minutes to get out.”
“I’m not running.” Pure affront.
Sienna had been in a pack long enough to understand male pride—even stupid male pride. “It’s not running. You’ll mess up my whole plan if Hawke’s focused on you instead of me.”
“Huh.” Finishing off his beer, he rose off the barstool.
Then he did something completely, totally unexpected. Hauling her against his body, he took her mouth in a hot, wild tangle of a kiss that spoke of the man he would one day become. Her heart was pumping double-time by the time he finished. “Um, well, that was . . .” Okay, she thought, okay. Maybe they didn’t have the combustible chemistry she had with Hawke, but Kit could get her into bed if he put his mind to it. And that was a surprise. “Not nice,” she finally managed to get out. “A very ‘not nice’ kiss.”
Smiling in masculine satisfaction, Kit rocked back on his heels. “Fair warning—now you smell like me in an intimate way. He’s not going to like that.”
Cunning cat. Good thing he was on her side. “Showtime.”
Kit leaned in to speak with his lips brushing her ear. “I won’t be far. If he’s too out of control, I’ll get you out.”