CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Should he mind his own business and return to the bar? Probably. Bailey would have said so. She’d repeatedly told him to not stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

But no way was he going to hang back while another male was so aggressively invading her personal space. So Deke kept striding over there, his back teeth locked. All the while, his cat moodily prowled beneath his skin as he snarled at the spectacle up ahead of them.

Deke could only assume that Camden had felt his mate’s anger, because the tiger shifter appeared at Aspen’s side just as Deke approached the group with the Devereaux brothers close behind. The noise level in the Tavern was so loud that it wasn’t until he neared them that Deke could hear any of what was being said.

“You didn’t go to my funeral,” the stranger complained, leaning toward Bailey. “Or the one before that.”

“I went to your first funeral,” Bailey told him. “Though that was because I thought there was a ninety percent chance you were actually dead.”

“You didn’t even cry,” griped the male.

Her face scrunched up. “What was there to cry about?”

Reaching them, Deke slid a hand between their bodies to plant a hand on the guy’s chest. “Move back.”

Dark eyes so very like Bailey’s slammed on Deke. “What?”

“I don’t like how close you are to her. Move. Back.” Deke lowered his hand when the male did just that. “Now maybe you can tell me who the hell you are.”

“Name’s Roman,” he replied, glancing around and taking in the number of people crowding him—a number that increased by two when Tate’s guards, Isaiah and Farrell, joined them. “I’m her cousin, so you can relax—I ain’t gonna hurt her.”

Deke blinked. Cousin? His cat faltered, just as surprised. Loners generally had no contact with family members, and Bailey had been a loner for most of her life. Or so Deke had assumed—he wasn’t entirely sure.

Bailey didn’t volunteer much personal information about herself. And he’d made a point of not digging for any, not wanting to feed his curiosity about her.

Deke was just about to ask if Roman was a lone shifter when Havana took an aggressive step forward, sidling up to Bailey protectively.

“You have some balls coming here,” the Alpha female all but growled, glaring at Roman. “Big, giant, hairy ones. Because I know I told you to stay away from Bailey.”

It wasn’t surprising that Roman tensed—devil shifters were renowned for having explosive tempers. “I got a situation,” he defended.

Aspen huffed, her face dark with anger. “You always do. If it isn’t cash you want, it’s a place to lie low or a bullshit alibi.”

He pointed at Bailey. “And she turns me away every time.” It was a genuine whine.

“Yet, you keep coming back,” Camden bit out. “Explain.”

Blair lifted a hand. “I’m sorry to cut in, but I have to know why someone would have one funeral, let alone multiple, when they’re not actually dead.”

Deke had been asking himself that very same question.

Havana cast her a humorless smile. “Well, Roman here has a habit of pissing off the wrong humans. So he fakes his death, waits for the heat to cool, and then crawls back out of his hidey hole.”

What a goddamn tool.

“What is it you want?” Bailey asked her cousin, setting her hands on her slim hips. “Just spit it out so I can say no and you can leave.”

Roman gave her a pleading look. “Bay, I need your help. These people … they don’t show mercy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What people?”

Shifting nervously, Roman rubbed at the side of his neck. “Ugh … the Westwood Pack. I kind of owe their Alpha money.”

Bailey felt her lips part in complete shock. “You dumb motherfucker.”

A lover of casinos, Roman wasn’t a stranger to borrowing massive amounts of money. Generally, he lost as many bets as he won. And since he quickly squandered his winnings on more bets, he often found himself in debt to the wrong humans. But he generally didn’t borrow cash from shifters. And borrowing money from the Westwood Pack? Epic mistake.

Deke frowned at him. “Jackals? You screwed over jackals? Seriously?”

She understood his disbelief. Most breeds of shifter tended to steer clear of jackals—their kind had a tendency toward cruelty and maliciousness. They would stab you in the back without hesitation, even if you were one of their own.

Roman ignored Deke, focused on Bailey. “I need somewhere to stay. Somewhere they won’t come looking for me.”

“They’ll question every living relative you have, me included,” she pointed out, her voice icily calm. “You know that.” Hence why her snake was furious—he’d effectively brought danger to her doorstep, and he clearly didn’t care. “You came to me because you think they won’t tangle with a pallas cat pride.” Asshole.

Roman lifted his shoulders. “Well, they won’t.”

“Wrong,” Deke stated. “They’ll do whatever they have to do to get back what they’re owed.”

Her thoughts exactly. Jackals did not let such things go.

“You have a nest,” Camden said to Roman, a bite to his voice—the tiger wasn’t a fan of her family, much like most people. “Why not ask them for help?”

“I did,” Roman replied. “They told me I was on my own with this.”

Not a shocker. The Umber Nest were tight. But they wouldn’t back you if you bit off more than the nest as a whole could chew. They’d leave you to clean up your own mess and accept the consequences. In some situations, they’d even wash their hands of not only you but your children if necessary. Much as they’d done to Bailey after her parents—

She slammed a door on that mental path.

“Come on, Bay, you know what it’s like to be alone,” he wheedled.

Havana hissed. “Don’t you dare try playing that card. You being told by your Alpha to deal with your own shit is nothing remotely close to the life of a lone shifter.”

Roman spluttered. “I never meant that—”

“I’m going to save Bailey the trouble of dealing with you,” Tate interjected. “We’re not going to welcome you into our pride. We’re not going to grant you protection from the Westwood Pack. We’re not going to give you a place to hide. We’re not going to help you in any way, shape, or form.”

Just as Roman had never helped Bailey over the years. None of the nest had. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t known where she was. They’d been the ones to deliver her to Corbin.

Roman swallowed. “They’ll kill me, Bay.”

“Only if they find you.” Bailey paused. “So make sure they don’t find you.” Considering he was a master at hiding, she was relatively confident that the jackals wouldn’t.

Tate gestured at the exit. “Go. And stay gone.”

Roman waited a long moment, as if sure Bailey would speak up for him. She didn’t. She merely stared at him. Spitting out a curse, the male angrily stalked out of the Tavern.

Maybe some would have felt guilty for turning him away. Bailey didn’t. Nor did she see why she should feel bad. After all, no one from the Umber Nest had been there for her when she’d needed them—on the contrary, they’d freaking abandoned her. And by hypocritically asking her to have his back, Roman clearly didn’t give a single, miniscule shit that it would mean she’d be in danger as well. Her welfare meant zilchto him.

Feeling the weight of someone’s gaze, she looked to see that Deke was staring at her—and not in a flattering way. It was one of his piercing stares. As if he was trying to see through her and didn’t particularly like that he wanted to.

Her snake pinned her own unblinking gaze right on this cat who both annoyed and intrigued her in equal measures.

“I didn’t know you had contact with any of your relatives,” he said.

She blinked. “Why would you?”

He let out a grunt. “Do you see or hear from any of them often?”

“Depends on your personal definition of ‘often,’ I guess.”

Deke watched as Bailey took a deliberate step away from him—a common thing of late. Likely aware that him being in close proximity to unmated females aggravated the touch-hunger, she purposely avoided coming too close to him. He appreciated it.

Yet he didn’t.

Because the physical distance somehow irritated him. But right now, as touch-hunger rode him hard and his cock began to ache like a mother, he was grateful for it.

Deke was about to call her on her evasive answer, but then Blair moved to her side and asked, “Do you think the jackals will really come here to speak with you?”

“Yes,” Bailey simply replied.

Havana gave her a pointed look. “If they show when you’re on your lonesome, text me. Don’t try to deal with them alone.”

“Sure thing.” Bailey sighed. “Anyone need a drink? Because I need a drink.” With that, she walked off.

Havana, Aspen, and Blair were quick to follow her to the bar, clearly concerned. Deke joined Camden, Tate, and Luke in trailing behind them.

Watching as the mamba knocked back shot after shot, Deke could easily sense that—despite how she casually talked and laughed—she was pissed. Her girls didn’t speak of Roman or the jackals; they tried distracting her with other matters, and their mates took their lead.

Deke, too, kept his questions to himself. So many danced around his head …

Why hadn’t her cousin’s nest taken her in when she’d become a lone shifter? Or had she always been a loner? Had the nest in fact offered her a place in it but she’d refused? Why wasn’t she willingly in contact with her relatives?

See, this was why he rarely asked her or others about her. It only made him want to know more. She was a puzzle. One he’d strived to understand but couldn’t.

He half-expected her to get blitzed, but she didn’t. She switched to water at one point, clearly intent on being vigilant. She took her role as Havana’s bodyguard seriously.

When Tate had first made Bailey an enforcer, Deke hadn’t really expected the Alpha to give her any responsibilities beyond being a guard for Havana. He also hadn’t expected her to last long in the position—she seemed to get bored fast. But Tate had called on her several times, utilizing the many skills that Deke would never have guessed she possessed. And if she was bored by the job, she hadn’t let it become a factor.

Deke had quickly learned that Bailey might be a handful, but she never let down either Havana or Aspen. If they needed something, she was on it. Say what you want about the mamba, but she had a steadfast loyalty to those she loved.

As the hours went on, she loosened up, her temper cooling. He’d noticed that hers tended to run quick and hot. She wasn’t one to stew for long.

By the time the party died down, she was back to her old self, though a little quieter than usual. Introspective, maybe. She was probably plotting something.

After wishing his father a happy birthday once again, Deke, along with Bailey, Aspen, Camden, and the Alphas, piled out of the Tavern with Isaiah and Farrell taking up the rear. As the cool evening breeze stroked over Deke’s heated skin, he tipped his face up to enjoy more of it, uncaring that it carried the scents of fuel and car exhaust.

As a group, they all stalked along the sidewalk. It was late, so the bus stop was empty, the cart vendors were gone, and the store security shutters were down. A few pedestrians roamed the sidewalks, and two hung near the stoplights. Other than that, the street was empty.

Light spilled out of the windows of the apartments above the stores, casting shadows on the sidewalk. Each of the premises were owned by the pride. There were many, including a coffeehouse, a bakery, a bookstore, and an antique shop. Most of the employees were pride members. Others were lone shifters or even humans.

Of a daytime, the street was often hectic. The stores received a lot of custom—not only from the pride, but from outsiders. So cars would be parked in every space, and the bus stop was often crowded.

In front of him, Bailey shuddered. “Damn, it’s chilly tonight.”

“It’s not that bad,” said Camden beside her. “As soon as fall hits, you’re always shivering.”

Bailey rubbed at her upper arms. “I’m a snake shifter. I don’t like to be cold.”

“Then it would have made sense for you to bring a jacket,” Deke chipped in.

Without altering her pace, Bailey glanced at him over her shoulder. “You butt into my conversations a lot. What do you get out of it?”

“Your annoyance,” he said.

“Gotcha.” She faced forward.

Deke ground his teeth. She said it with complete understanding. Like they were on the same wavelength when they absolutely were not. He didn’t get off on riling people unless they were Bailey—she was the single exception.

As they reached the corner of the street, the Alphas and guards headed to the nearby cul-de-sac where they lived. Deke and the others crossed to one of the two pride-owned apartment buildings. He’d been on high alert for any signs of Roman, but the walk was uneventful.

Inside the complex, the four of them trickled into the elevator. Deke and Camden pressed the buttons for their respective floors.

Deke stood apart from the others to avoid any incidental touches. It wasn’t enough to stop the touch-hunger from flaring up, though. Because the scents of the other three shifters bounced around the confined space, and one of those shifters was an unmated female.

His arousal ramped up. His nerve-endings sang. His flesh turned fever-hot. The skin around his rock-hard cock suddenly felt too tight.

Silently cursing to himself, he focused on the changing numbers on the digital screen. The elevator smoothed to a stop on Aspen and Camden’s floor. The couple said their goodnights and exited the elevator.

Then he and Bailey were alone.

She hummed low as the elevator once more began to ascend, adjusting the straps of her dress and bra. She began studying her reflection in the mirrored wall, baring her teeth to rub at one of them.

He felt a muscle in his cheek twitch. She often did stuff like that when no one else was around but them. Hummed or muttered to herself or demonstrated other types of behavior that people generally did when alone—dismissing his presence so easily.

He wasn’t going to react. He wasn’t going to say a word. Not even now, while touch-hunger clawed at him so hard that agitation was a drumbeat in his blood.

Finally, the elevator halted again. She strode out first, still humming. He followed, wondering why the universe had thought it would be amusing to stick them on the same floor.

As she was approaching her apartment, her neighbor’s door swung open. An elderly woman dressed in a long robe stepped out, her gray hair in rollers, and pinned an angry gaze on Bailey. “There you are. There was another damn snake in my apartment earlier. I opened the lid of my toilet and got the surprise of my life.”

“It just wanted to say hi, Vera,” Bailey told her, pulling her keys out of her purse.

“Say hi? It hissed at me.”

“No one likes being looked at when they’re using the toilet, jeez.”

Halting near his front door, Deke sighed. Unreal.

“You need to chase these things out of the building,” snapped Vera. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure you’re the one who’s thrown out.”

A creepy smile slowly crept onto Bailey’s face. Like seriously creepy. One that was freakishly wide but didn’t reach her eyes. No, her eyes looked dead.

Not good. He’d seen the mamba bite people in the past while wearing that very expression.

He began heading toward them just as Vera’s scowl faltered at the sight of Bailey’s smile. She tightened the belt of her robe and took a nervous step back.

She should be nervous. No shifter took kindly to someone threatening to chase them out of their territory—whether it be an apartment, a stretch of land, or a cardboard box. But one who’d once been a loner like Bailey would be even more territorial, because they’d spent years moving from home to home, never quite settling … until now. They would not let anyone take their personal slice of territory from them.

Reaching the mamba, Deke began shepherding her toward her apartment even as he said, “Vera, go inside.” He swiped the keys from Bailey’s hand. She didn’t react. Didn’t even look at him. Her gaze was fixed on her neighbor.

“Try to have me evicted if you’d like,” said Bailey, her voice dangerously calm, her words coming out slow and flat.

Having unlocked her front door, he tried urging her inside, but her attention was still fixed on Vera.

“It would be a mistake, of course,” Bailey told her. “Because it’s not the full-blooded snakes you need to worry about. They’re not the only ones who can travel through the vents.”

Vera swallowed hard and retreated into her home.

Deke ushered Bailey into her own apartment, kicking her door shut behind him. “You were thinking of biting her, weren’t you?”

“It crossed my mind. She would have deserved it.” Bailey tossed her purse on an amethyst-colored armchair that matched the camel-back sofa. “No one gets to take my home from me.”

“You can relax. She won’t really try to have you evicted. She probably just thought that the threat would light a fire under your ass.” He placed her set of keys on the black glass coffee table. “The fact is, you do need to get the full-blooded snakes out of the building. They can’t nest in your apartment.”

“I don’t have any here.”

“There’s one right over there on top of the bookcase.”

She flapped a hand. “That’s just Clive. He comes and goes every now and then. That’s not nesting. Hey, do me a solid and take your mom’s dish with you when you go.” She pointed toward the kitchen area. “It’s on the countertop. I don’t know why she keeps bringing me food, but it’s weirding me out.” She rolled her shoulders. “Make it stop.”

Deke stared at her for a moment. He hadn’t thought there was anything that could truly ruffle Bailey. Oh, she often freaked whenever Blair dislocated her joints, but Bailey was also morbidly fascinated by it. The displays of kindness from his mother, however? Yeah, they actually made her uncomfortable.

Amused, he said, “Now that’s just ungrateful. She’s doing a very nice thing.”

“Exactly. It’s weird.”

He felt his mouth curve. “So there is somethingthat gets to you. Nice gestures.”

Her lips flattened. “You need to stop smiling like that.”

“Like what?”

“All smug and superior.” Bailey didn’t care that he apparently felt he was oh-so-much better than her. But her serpent? That was a whole other matter. “It makes my snake want to eat your head.”

“Why just my head?”

“I don’t know. That’s her business.”

“Her business?”

Bailey shrugged. “I don’t question her motivations or interfere with her choices.” Her mamba granted her that same courtesy. They had each other’s back, no matter what.

“Maybe you should interfere.”

“I don’t see why.” Her snake always had shit covered.

“Maybe because she lunges at people and tries to bite them,” he sniped.

Ooh, she did like it when he got all snarky. She knew his surliness partly came from the touch-hunger—it was clear to sense that it had a firm grip on him. His cheeks were flushed, his pupils were dilated, his muscles were bunched, and he was exuding a restless energy.

“Like me, for instance,” he added. “She’s come at me more than once.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t call her Hissy Elliot—”

“It’s just a pet name.”

“—she’d leave you alone. I say ‘maybe.’ Probably not, though. She doesn’t like you being near me.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“She’s protective of me. You hate me. Ergo …”

His frown deepened. “I don’t hate you. There are times I want to shake you so bad it actually takes my breath away. But I don’t hate you. Actually, it’s the other way around. You loathe me.”

“No, I don’t. I wouldn’t waste that kind of emotional energy on you.”

“Waste? Oh, well, that’s very—” Pain smacked into Deke’s head like a thunderclap, making his vision go gray around the edges. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His cat lurched up to shoulder some of the pain, moodily baring his teeth at Bailey, blaming her. Unfair, yeah, but the feline didn’t care.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re in some serious pain.”

In more ways than one, now that his level of arousal was reaching new limits. It didn’t help that she smelled like a fucking dream. Mandarin and orange blossoms. He should leave. Being here, being around her, only made things worse.

At the same time, though, her company gave him a sort of … mental release. He could spar with her. Argue with her. Rile her up. Not have to worry about adopting the social niceties that others obsessed over—Bailey didn’t give a rat’s furry ass how rude he was.

“Why won’t you just go fuck the touch-hunger out of your system?” she asked, clearly baffled. “This is seriously not the time to take a vow of celibacy. It’ll just keep getting worse.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring that, she went on, “I don’t get it. You’re a dick, but you’re not stupid.”

“A dick?”

“Why make this harder for yourself?” She dropped her gaze to his crotch. “Like literally harder. You a masochist? Is that it? I never considered that before. Probably should have. Makes sense. You into kinky stuff, too? I had a friend who liked to wear cock cages. He also liked being choked during sex, according to his ex. Not to the point where he passed out or anything, though he apparently did once almost—”

“Stop talking about sex,” he gritted out, because his cock hurt so much at this point that it would hurt to walk.

“If even hearing someone talk about it is making things worse, you need to address the matter fast.”

He felt his nostrils flare. “I don’t remember asking for your advice.”

“That’s because you didn’t.”

“Then why give it?”

“I’m a giving person.”

“You give people problems and headaches—that’s about it.”

She smiled. “It takes the kind of skill you’ll never master.”

He clenched his jaw. “I really want to shake you right now.” Really, really hard.

“Then my work here is done.” She wiggled her fingers. “See you around, Eye Candy. Don’t forget the dish.”

It was amazing how much one measly little form of address could piss him off so tremendously. And her tone … God, that fucking tone that disdained him so effortlessly. Like he was some pretty boy with no depth of character or purpose in life.

It made him want to grab her by the throat. And then maybe squeeze just a little. Or kiss her. Or both. “My name is Deke.”

She sniffed. “So?”

This was seriously the wrong time for her to taunt him. His level of tolerance was at an all-time low. So much pent-up irritation was coiled in his stomach, pushing for a release. He crossed to her. “So use it.”

“Why?”

He dipped his head. “You don’t want to keep goading me, Bailey,” he warned. “You wouldn’t like what happened if you pushed me too far.”

Her eyes lit up with interest. “Ooh, what would happen?” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Would there be bloodshed?”

“Depends.”

“On what, Boy Toy?”

He inched a little closer. “On whether you’re much of a scratcher when you come.”

She did a slow blink, clearly taken aback. But then she snorted. “Like you’dever put any part of yourself near my lady bits. Like I’d even let you or—what the hell?”

Deke really hadn’t meant to cup her pussy. It had happened before he could stop it. And now, as the heat of her warmed his palm even through her underwear and dress, he didn’t want to let go. “Looks like you were wrong on both counts.”

Her eyes went wide, and she smiled. “You’re being brilliantly bold. I’m quite proud of you right now. Didn’t think you had it in you. Go you!”

He stared at her, momentarily lost for words. “You’re not normal.”

Her smile ramped up. “I know. I kind of thought we’d already established that. Now, are you going to make me come, or are you just all talk?” It wasn’t a question. No, she was quite sure he’d back off.

His cat peeled back his upper lip, urging Deke to teach her a lesson. The animal wanted to show her that he and Deke weren’t so weak-willed. Wanted her to realize that she was wrong to dismiss them. Wanted her to actually see them rather than look through them.

Deke stared deep into her eyes. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Too proud to back down, huh? Okay, I’ll take pity on you and—”

He ground the heel of his palm against her clit.

She double-blinked, a light gasp escaping her. “Well, now. You’re just full of surprises tonight.”

Agreed. He was surprising even himself.

“But let’s face it, you don’t want this to go any further, so I think you should—”

He rubbed at her clit again, eliciting another soft gasp from her. “You have no fucking clue what I want.”

His cat growled, butting him, urging him to teach her that he wasn’t to be underestimated … which was right when the spicy scent of feminine arousal rose up to greet him. And something in Deke quite simply snapped.

Bailey froze as—with a snarl that fairly rang with power and dominance—Deke locked his mouth with hers. But her stillness lasted only seconds. Because then the sexually charged tension between them exploded, and all her thoughts scattered.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a hot, heavy, collision of tongues, lips, and teeth. They savagely ate at each other’s mouths, inhibited.

She gripped his upper arms, grinding against the big, warm hand roughly gliding over her clit. Each grind shot to her hardening nipples and made her core pang in need. She couldn’t quite believe this was happening, but she wasn’t about to stop it.

His free hand tangled in her hair and sharply angled her head, allowing him to thrust his tongue deeper. He feasted on her with so much intensity and desperation, like she was the first woman he’d seen in decades. Her scalp stung from his harsh hold, but she liked the burn. Liked the blatant boldness—one that both surprised and impressed her snake—with which he took Bailey over.

The hand cupping her pussy disappeared.

What the …?

In one swift move, he shoved that same hand up her dress and thrust it into her panties. Firmly palming her pussy, he spread his fingers, parting her folds, exposing the supersensitive nerves between them to the cool air … and then jammed a finger inside her.

Bailey jolted with a gasp that he swallowed, his pupils blown. Her muscles rippled around the invading digit as it began to fuck in and out of her. His gaze locked on her own, he kept his mouth pressed to hers as he pumped.

Moaning, she arched into every thrust, digging her nails into his arms. Every drive of his finger hit just the right spot, pushing her closer and closer to coming.

She wanted to pull his cock out of his jeans. Wanted to feel him in her hand. Wanted to jerk him off and give him the relief he’d—for some mysterious reason—been depriving himself of.

But considering he was knee-deep in touch-hunger, he’d come pretty quickly, and she didn’t trust the mean bastard not to walk out as soon as he’d had an orgasm. As such, she’d wait until she’d had her own. It really wouldn’t be long …

Fingers slipped out of her hair and trailed down her face. His mouth followed, giving her suckling little kisses. He moved as if to coast his lips down her neck. She hissed, not trusting him enough to let his teeth near her throat.

He snapped his hand around her neck. “Behave.” He shoved a second finger into her pussy.

Three thrusts later, she imploded with a choked cry as pure pleasure flooded her. Even as her inner muscles spasmed like crazy, she tore open his fly and then fisted his cock as it sprang out. The guttural sound that sawed out of his throat was a growl, a groan, and a demand all wrapped into one. Her snake liked it.

Bailey tightened her grip and pumped. Fast. Knowing he needed ‘rough’ to get off while in this state.

He fucked her fist, grunting into her mouth. And then he was coming with a snarl. Ropes of warm come splashed onto her fingers and dress.

As every bit of tension seemed to leach from his body, he dropped his forehead to her temple and panted out long, heavy breaths. Not quite in control of her own breathing, she released his cock and wiped her hand on her dress.

Moments later, as his fingers slipped out of her, Bailey blew out a breath. “Well, that was weird.”

His head reared back, and he frowned at her in affront. “Weird?”

“It’s not every day a girl gets sent to O-town by a dude who has more than once threatened to choke her.”

Backing up, he shook his head and tucked away his cock. He looked as if he might lick his fingers clean, but then he wiped them on his jeans instead.

She studied him carefully as he refastened his fly, noting that the almost manic energy he’d carried earlier was now absent. The touch-hunger had subsided, then. For now, at least. There, she’d done her good deed for the decade.

She noted something else as well. “You’re dying to hightail it out of here.” It was written all over his face. No surprise there, though. If it hadn’t been for the touch-hunger, he likely wouldn’t have touched her at all. “Having regrets, huh?”

“No. I’ve wanted to get my hands and mouth on you since the first day we met.”

She blinked at the unashamed, matter-of-fact statement.

“But my cat …”

She nodded as realization hit her. “Oh, he doesn’t like me.” Her snake flicked out her tongue, all “well,fuck him.”

Deke sighed, looking tired. “Right now, he doesn’t like anyone.”

Her instincts stirred. Something was going on with his cat. Something that was making the feline want zero physical contact. “That’s why you haven’t worked off the touch-hunger.”

A muscle in his cheek ticked.

She wasn’t surprised that he didn’t confirm it. He would never trust her with his animal’s secrets. To be fair, that went both ways.

“I’ve got to go.” He flexed the hand that had moments ago sent her soaring. “Get rid of the snakes.”

“At the moment, the only ones here are Clive and that monster in your jeans.”

A breath whistled out from between his gritted teeth. “Jesus. Right, I’m leaving.” He stalked to the door and pulled it open. Half-turning, he met her gaze, his own still a little blissed out from his orgasm. He parted his lips as if to speak, but then he sighed instead.

She smiled at the impatient sound. “Nighty, night.”

He grunted. “Whatever.” He left, pulling the door closed behind him.

She couldn’t help but chuckle at the rude bastard. A bastard who’d given her a very delightful orgasm and hungrily ate at her mouth like he’d never tasted anything better. How sad that it wouldn’t happen again.