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“Give us some time.”
What did that mean? She leaned back and looked into his eyes.Damn. They were golden, just like Grayson’s had been. Her mom said that it was an old wives’ tale that when a werewolf found his mate his eyes would turn gold and his teeth would sharpen—as would a few other changes happen. Yet here was Rider exhibiting all those signs.
Could both men be her mate?No, that was crazy talk.
“Do your eyes often turn a shade of gold?” she asked.
He quickly looked away. “Sorry. No. I don’t think anyone has ever told me that before.”
She dragged a palm down his cheek. “How do you explain the sudden beard growth on your face then?”
He shrugged. “It’s late. I need to shave, but I’ll wait until morning.”
That was a lie, but why press him on it? Paris just wanted some comfort. “Can I stay here for the night?”
Rider almost seemed to choke. “In my bed? Or Grayson’s bed?”
She looked around. “I don’t see him here, and I don't want to be alone.”
Rider bit down on his lip. “Then sure. Why not? But you have to promise not to seduce me. I am weak around you.”
She couldn’t remember any man telling her not to seduce him. It was always the other way around. “Sure, no problem.”
Only she did have a problem with that. For some crazy reason, Paris wanted Rider. He was strong, in control, and focused. She liked that about him. Sure, he had been a bit standoffish at first, but he seemed to have warmed up to her after the issue with the drug.
Paris had changed into her street clothes when she came over to his room.Darn.
“Is this your bed?” she asked.
“It is. Crawl in. I was about to take a shower when you knocked. I won’t be but a minute.”
“Okay.”
Rider disappeared into the bathroom. She thought he might have used that as an excuse to give her some time to undress in private. If anyone had told her he’d be so considerate a few days ago, she wouldn’t have believed it. Sure, he was really nice when he realized she might have ingested some cocaine, but Rider had never even flirted with her before that—at least not a lot.
Oh, shit.Maybe he wasn’t really attracted to her. But if that were the case, would he react to her with those golden eyes?
Stop thinking.
Not wanting him to find her sitting on the bed when he came out, she stripped down to her undies, and then pulled on her T-shirt. It made for a good makeshift pair of pajamas. Paris then crawled in between the cool sheets. Not knowing which side he slept on, she took the side closest to Grayson’s bed. It would be like she was sandwiched between them.
Even though Paris was tired, hearing the sound of the shower and thinking about Rider being naked, energized her. It didn’t seem to matter that she’d made love with Grayson a few hours before.
Paris was certain she hadn’t imagined that Rider appeared angry when she and Grayson had first entered the motel room. Was that because he was jealous? She immediately tossed out that idea. Rider had already agreed that there would be no kissing or anything, and that worked for her. Right now, Paris needed to sleep. Most likely some residue of the drug was still in her system. Why else would she have had that hallucination?
Paris closed her eyes and tried to doze off. Of course, that didn’t happen, especially once the water cut off. When Rider opened the bathroom door, she didn’t look. If she saw him with a towel around his waist—or worse, naked—she wasn’t sure she could trust herself.
A moment later, the bed dipped. Rider leaned over. “Do you want me to leave the light on?”
At first, she thought he was making fun of her, but from his tone, he wasn’t. She opened her eyes. “No. I’m good. Knowing you’re here makes it better.”
When Rider reached across her body to turn off the switch on the nightstand, something snapped inside her. She wanted the comfort, the warmth, and the protection. Paris rolled over, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. And no, it wasn’t the same as when she’d kissed Grayson. This was different in that she needed Rider right now.
He drew her closer and returned the kiss with passion. His response was like he’d flipped a switch inside her. Need and desire collided.
Paris ran her hands down his naked back, pressed her chest against his and groaned. This time, it was Rider who ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she welcomed him in.
Their tongues dueled, and the more they kissed, the more she wanted him. Rider ignited a fire in her, though she wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been scared and believed he would protect her, or if she just wanted him for who he was. At the moment, the fact he was a werewolf didn’t seem to matter. An inner lust was driving her.
