Page 36 of Talk Howly to Me

I could get used to this place, she realized as they walked through the lodge's corridors toward the staircase that would take them to his private suite. Wolf shifters or not, triad mate bonds or not—this feels like something I don't want to lose.

FOURTEEN

RONAN

Ronan guided Sloane through the door of his private suite, his hand resting at the small of her back. But the moment the heavy door clicked shut behind them, the air shifted, thickening with an anticipation that felt as potent as the scent of their mingled sweat. His sanctuary—a space of dark wood, leather, and floor-to-ceiling windows framing the mountains—suddenly felt charged, intimate in a way it never had before as his bold invitation still echoed in his ears.

Too forward, his disciplined mind whispered.

But after watching her move in the gym with that fierce, focused grace, after feeling her hands on him as she demonstrated techniques with a confidence that had his wolf growling in admiration, his restraint had snapped. The easy camaraderie of last night's bonfire, the unspoken understanding passing between the three of them, had eroded the last of his caution. Four days of holding back his wolf's demands, of watching her, wanting her, denying himself what fate had delivered… it all culminated in that single, raw question.

And she'd said yes.

Now, standing in the center of his living area, her arousal perfumed the space, richer and more intoxicating than it had been downstairs. It was a heady blend of lavender, vanilla, and pure want that made his cock throb painfully against the confinement of his shorts. His wolf pressed against his skin, a relentless, demanding presence.

She turned to face him, her hazel eyes wide and searching. "How exactly is this supposed to work?"

He closed the distance between them in two deliberate strides, invading her space until the heat of their bodies mingled. He watched her pupils dilate, and saw the pulse jump in her throat. "How do you want this to work?"

Her lips parted. "I'm not sure exactly. But I know I want to kiss you right now."

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he leaned in until his mouth was a breath from hers, his voice a rough whisper against her lips. "So, what are you waiting for then?"

Her hands came up to frame his jaw, and she closed the final distance, her mouth meeting his in a kiss that was pure, hungry possession. It wasn't tentative or exploratory—it was a claiming, fierce and desperate, pouring all the suppressed tension of the past days into the slide of lips and the urgent clash of tongues. Ronan groaned into her mouth, one hand tangling in her sweat-damp ponytail, the other pulling her hard against him. He could feel every curve of her through their damp clothes, the hard press of her breasts against his chest and the sweet cradle of her hips against his aching erection.

Mine, his wolf roared. Claim. Mark.

The kiss deepened, turning consuming, a frantic exchange where she tasted of mint and determination. He devoured her, and she gave as good as she got, her nails scoring lightly down his back through his shirt.

Then a thought pierced the haze of lust like shrapnel: Kozue.

The memory of his own sharp words to his Beta—his calm anger that Kozue had claimed her without discussion—flashed with brutal clarity. He was doing the exact same thing. He was about to take what he wanted without consulting him, without honoring the complex bond they were all tangled in. He should stop. He should pull back, be the responsible Alpha, the considerate best friend…

My turn, his wolf snarled, the impulse primal and selfish.

Kozue had his night. The mate bond pulsed, not diminished but waiting, and Ronan's wolf was done waiting. The denial of the last twelve years, of putting every want and need after duty, crystallized into this single, driving need.

She broke the kiss, panting, and her hands went to the hem of his sweaty black t-shirt. He helped her, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Her gaze raked over his chest, his abdomen, a visual touch that left a trail of fire. Then her fingers went to the waistband of his shorts, pushing them and his boxers down in one impatient motion.

He stood before her, gloriously bare and fully aroused. Her eyes dropped, widened, and a slow, appreciative smile touched her kiss-swollen lips.

"Oh, wow," she breathed, her voice husky. "Impressive."

His wolf preened, and Ronan felt a surge of masculine satisfaction so profound it momentarily eclipsed the guilt. Then he reached for her, his large hands making quick work of her sports bra. The fabric gave way, revealing her full, beautiful breasts, their peaks already tight and pebbled. He groaned, dipping his head to taste one, but she pushed at his shoulders.

"Not yet," she demanded, her fingers hooking in the waistband of her leggings.

He helped her peel the damp fabric down, taking her plain cotton panties with them until she stood naked before him in the afternoon light streaming through his windows. Her body was a masterpiece of feminine strength—lean muscle sculpting her shoulders and arms, the tempting curve of her waist flaring to generous hips, the powerful line of her thighs earned through years of combat. Small, silvery scars decorated her skin like a map of survival.

She was breathtaking.

"You are so beautiful," he said, the words leaving him with a reverence.

A faint blush painted her cheekbones, but her gaze remained steady and hungry. "Well," she said softly. "Are we going to take a shower or not?"

He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and led her across the polished wooden floor to the ensuite bathroom. It was spacious and clean-lined, dominated by a massive walk-in shower of slate and glass. He reached in, turned the dial, and a cascade of water erupted from the wide rainfall showerhead, steam beginning to fog the air.

He guided her inside first, the hot spray immediately plastering her long brown hair to her shoulders and back. Then he stepped in behind her, shutting the glass door and enclosing them in a warm, private world of sound and steam. The water sluiced over them, washing away the sweat and the salt of their workout, but doing nothing to cool the heat coiling between them.