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So, rather than butt heads with my mate, I roll my eyes, stomp around the coffee table, and plop myself on his lap.
Ryker grabs me around the waist, yanking me closer. His hand is a brand on my hip, my wolf rumbling in contentment as I settle my chin against his shoulder.
“I didn’t go far,” I murmur. Ryker’s ear twitches as my breath tickles his skin. I nuzzle closer. “I just had to run or I was getting ready to gut someone.”
“As someone who’s been on the receiving end of your claws, I’d much rather you take your aggression out with a good run. Still, it’s dangerous, Gemma. You know that.” He gives my hip a squeeze. “And I know it chafes you and your wolf, but if Walker was willing to take Trish, what do you think he’ll do to get you?”
He has a point. Once again, Ryker is right.
Ugh.
Did I mention how much I hate that?
