“Already?” She glanced at her watch and gave a small wince. “I didn’t know it was so late.”
“Yeah. And I’ve got work…or something.” Or something? Is that the best you can do, you idiot! “I mean, I’m working on a job and I’m running behind.”
“Okay.” They were sitting on the couch again, Gwen facing him, her legs tucked up under her. Those gold eyes watching him with that heavy-lidded, barely blinking, feline stare. Yet she wasn’t tense. She simply waited. For him.
An enticing move, but he wasn’t falling for it. At the same time, though, a little good-night kiss couldn’t hurt, right?
Leaning forward, he slipped his hand behind her neck, his fingers massaging the muscles there. Gwen groaned and closed her eyes, her lips parting in what he could only see as a personal invitation.
Gripping the back of her neck to hold her in place, Lock kissed her. He’d meant to keep it short and controlled, but Gwen’s small hands gripped his shoulders, those damn nails grazing against his throat, behind his ear. It drove him nuts! He tilted his head to the side, allowing himself to be pulled in to that kiss as his tongue stroked hers, as his lips played with hers. She abruptly pulled as far back as the hand holding her in place would allow.
“Your lips,” she whispered, her eyes still closed. “What is that thing you do with your lips?”
“What thing?” he asked and then pulled her in again. She groaned deep and long, the sound coming from the back of her throat as she rose up on her knees, her hands releasing his shoulders so she could wrap her arms around his neck.
He knew he had to stop, he had to pull away. God knew he didn’t want to but…
Lock pulled back, untangling her arms from around his neck. “I have to go.”
Gwen’s eyes blinked open. She stared at him with unabashed surprise but also passion. Deep, raw passion that he’d never seen from another female before.
“You’re…?”
The word “going” hung out there between them.
He kissed her forehead and released her, pulling away as a card was swiped in the front door and it swung open. A male stepped in. Lion. He looked like Brendon Shaw. Must be the infamous half-brother of the half-brother.
The lion strode into the room yawning, glanced at them, and waved.
“Where’s Sissy?” Gwen asked, moving farther away from Lock.
“Off with her She-wolves. I don’t know how she does it, because the jet lag is kicking my ass.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the minifridge underneath the end table closest to Lock, waved again, and headed down a hallway. “Night,” he called out seconds before a distant doorway slammed shut.
“Huh,” Gwen said. “That went well.”
Lock wasn’t sure what she meant until they heard a roared “Who the fuck was that?” and that distant doorway crashed back open.
Jet lag! She forgot about jet lag! Of course, since Gwen had never traveled off the East Coast, this wasn’t exactly surprising. Plus, an early night in for her brother and his mate was usually around six in the morning. But Gwen had forgotten that Mitch wasn’t used to traveling the way Sissy—a hardcore traveler since she’d turned eighteen—was. And because of that miscalculation, her brother was here—exhausted, pissed off, and ready to kill a bear. Her bear!
Mitch Shaw went right for Lock, too, his claws unleashing as he moved in for the killing blow, the power behind those claws capable of snapping a human spine with one well-placed slap.
Even worse, Lock wasn’t startled. A startled Lock meant he could put up a healthy fight. A sedate Lock simply meant he could get his ass…
Oh. Oh.
Well she hadn’t expected that.
Not only was Lock not startled, but he wasn’t frightened either. Nor was he mad. And as Mitch lunged at him, Lock casually reached out and batted the lion down. Gwen couldn’t even call it a vicious mauling. More like a simple sow-swat from a momma bear to her cubs when they were doing something stupid. She doubted Lock put any real strength behind that sow-swat either. But Mitch went down, grunting as he hit the floor hard.
Raging now, and roaring, Mitch got back up and came at Lock again. Again, Lock slapped the big cat down. Even worse, Lock still wasn’t upset. He was laughing. Not mocking laughter, either, which she knew well from when Mitch and her uncles had done it to others. More like entertained chuckles as if he’d found a really great toy.
Again Mitch got up and, again, Lock batted him to the floor, Gwen’s brother going down with a bam!
Lock grinned at Gwen. “He’s fun,” he said, reaching out and cuffing Mitch without even looking at him. “He just keeps trying to get back up.” Bam! “It’s great.” Bam! “Like ‘The Little Lion Who Could.’” Bam!
Mitch, bruised and perhaps permanently brain damaged, tried to struggle up again, but Lock held him down on the floor by using the same hand he’d slapped Gwen’s brother around with.
“I’ve got to go,” he said to Gwen again, oblivious to the curses and promises of violent retribution being tossed at him from the floor. “But I want you to know I had an amazing time tonight.”
The words were said with such sincerity that Gwen completely forgot about her poor—now special-needs—brother struggling on the floor. She gazed into those big brown eyes that were almost too big for Lock’s human face and too small for his bear one and said, “I had a great time, too.”
“Then I’ll talk to you later?”
“Okay.”
He kissed her again, keeping it short this time, but then he pressed his forehead against hers, his silver-tipped brown hair feeling soft and silky against her skin, tickling her cheeks and chin.
“I’ve got to go,” he whispered.
“You said that. At least three times.”
“I know. I’m saying it again.” He took a deep breath and then moved away from her, but not before brushing his skin against hers. It was an almost feline move, and she barely stopped herself from climbing onto his back and steering him like a horse to her bedroom.
He made it to the front door before he looked back at her. Then his eyes grew wide. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He came back over to her and handed her a card. “These are my numbers, e-mail addresses, business URL, physical address, and mailing address. You know…if you need to get in touch with me.”
Get in touch with him? But he left out his social security number, his date of birth, and his high school GPA. “Thanks.”
“If you need anything you let me know. Okay?”
Melting. She was so melting. “I will. I promise.”
“Okay.” He walked back to the door, looked at her over his shoulder. “Bye, Gwen.”
“Night.” He opened the front door and Gwen said, “Lock?”
He stopped immediately. “Yeah?” Did he have to sound so eager when he was the one making the decision to go? Damn him! “Uh…could you leave him here? He kind of comes with the place.”
Frowning, Lock glanced down. “Oh, jeez!”
Oh, jeez?
“Sorry about that.” He immediately dropped the lion he’d dragged from the couch to the door, back to the couch, and back to the door. “Habit. Usually I bat my prey around until they stop fighting and drag them off to the brush to…well…you know.” He looked down at Mitch. “Sorry about that…uh…”