“That’s just it—I don’t know.” It sounded like he was having teeth pulled.
“Knock it off, Riley.” His discomfort was cute, but that’s not what she wanted from him. “You know the answer.”
That made the wolf bare its teeth. Mercy could feel the aggression in the air, though Riley was doing an impressive—and irritating—job of keeping it locked behind bars of steel.
“I think you’d chew up,” he said, “and spit out a submissive. And I think you’re smart enough to know that that wouldn’t make you happy.”
“That makes me smarter than you.” It was the cat clawing at him, still pissed at the way he’d attempted to turn her into something she wasn’t. She waited for him to come back with a justification that she had every intention of shredding into a million pieces.
“Yes,” he said, poking a big fat hole in her balloon of indignation. “But no one ever called me stupid—just thickheaded.”
She raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn’t punched the air right out of her.
“Maybe,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides and moving closer, “I realized my mistake.”
“Did you, now?” She shook her head. “Stop right there, wolfie.”
He actually obeyed. Hmm, the leopard thought, perhaps they might forgive him after all. But it wasn’t yet a fait ac compli. “And what,” she asked, “did you realize?”
He folded his arms.
“Body language,” she pointed out with a—just slightly—gleeful smile.
“You’re not making this easier.” He kept the arms folded.
Stubborn wolf. “If I did, I wouldn’t be me.”
“Yeah.” A slight smile curved his lips as he dropped those arms.
And for now, for the cat in her, it was enough. She had no desire to humble him—this, what he’d said, what he’d done, it was a big step. “So, you leaving now that you’ve done a half-assed job of an apology?” It was very deliberate provocation.
“Invite me in and I’ll give you a massage.” It was a playful offer from a man who, she was learning, rarely played. “I’ll attempt to turn half-assed into full.”
“I got that last time.” She put the towel around her neck and swung around to walk to the cabin. “What else you got?”
He prowled behind her. “The ability to give you mind-blowing orgasms.”
“Let me think about it.” She was playing, too—he had to have scented her readiness by now. It was getting to the point that simply being around him aroused her, and wasn’t that a kicker since she’d first bitten into him to assuage her hunger? “Amuse yourself while I shower.”
“Okay.”
She was a little suspicious of his ready agreement—Riley was practical, focused, honest, but he was no pushover. It made complete sense to her that they called him the Wall—this man wouldn’t budge once he decided on something. He’d fight for it to the death. That’s why, despite everything, she liked him.
And right now, it was obvious he wanted her. He’d come down here with the intention of smoothing matters over between them—and she knew full well that if she’d made things easier, he’d have taken it. Hell, he was a man, a proud, dominant man. But he’d been ready and willing to have her carve out a pound of flesh, which was why she hadn’t clawed him as much as she’d thought she would.
But she wasn’t in any way mistaken about the fact that Riley was who he’d always been. Smart, rooted in earth, and very, very determined.
So when he got all meek and compliant, the hairs on her arms rose in suspicion. Still, he seemed to be genuinely relaxed as he grabbed a beer out of her eco-cooler and sprawled on the sofa. Deciding that maybe he was trying to charm his way into her good graces—not that it would work if she didn’t want it to work—she walked into her bathroom, stripped, and entered the shower.
The door opened a minute later to expose Riley standing there, beer in hand.
Scraping damp strands of red off her face, she glared at him. “I don’t remember giving you an invitation.”
“You said to amuse myself while you shower.” A slow, slow, deliciously slow smile.
It said gotcha.
And Mercy realized that when a man who rarely played, played with a woman, hell, it was better than any kind of sophisticated charm on earth. Sniffing as if she wasn’t completely delighted, she turned her back to him and lathered up her hair. She could all but feel his gaze sliding over her body.
Rinsing out her hair, she felt it slick down her back, pasting itself to her skin. Riley’s arousal wrapped around her, vivid, strong . . . familiar. Her body responded, echoing and strengthening the erotic fusion of scents. It was another level of pleasure, a soft, invisible sea that caressed and tempted.
“Turn around.” It was a husky request.
She glanced over her shoulder to meet his eyes. “Alright.”