Chapter 92: Distracted
Chapter 92
Cameron
I pull Lenora by the hand toward where our SUV is parked outside the rundown cabin. The place is barely habitable, but right now I don’t care about that. My blood is still pumping too fast from what just happened.
"I’m sorry, I was just so angry—" she starts, but I don’t let her finish.
I kiss her, hard, pushing her back against the SUV with a thud.
It doesn’t even take a second for her to kiss me back, her fingers fisting in my shirt like she wants to pull me even closer.
What do you do when you watch your mate walk with blood on her, dragging a mangled man behind her like he’s nothing?
Most people would be terrified.
Me?
Apparently I get so turned on I can’t think straight.
Lenora is always beautiful, my other half but right now she looks like she was carved out of vengeance and dipped in an aphrodisiac.
Her back presses harder against the car as I kiss her like a starving man, like she’s the only thing anchoring me to this world. She makes a soft sound into my mouth, half surprise, half hunger, and it makes me lose my mind.
"Cam—" she gasps against my lips.
I don’t let her catch her breath.
So glad there’s a change of clothes waiting, because I spin her fully, pinning her back against the SUV door. The metal rattles under the force as my hands roam, my wolf practically clawing at the surface. Lenora’s claws hook into my shoulders in response, dragging sharp little sparks of pain and pleasure down my back.
I don’t have the patience for buttons or zippers. I tear. The thin fabric gives way under my hands like it was begging for it, and she makes a strangled sound halfway between indignation and lust.
"You didn’t even ask—" she starts.
"I’m asking with my hands," I growl, kissing her hard enough that her protest melts into a needy sigh. The taste of her—blood, fury, and Lenora—is intoxicating.
Her laugh is breathless against my lips. "You’re ridiculous."
***
Ronan
"I’d rather not go that way, unless you like to watch," I call lazily to Simone, sprawled on the hood of the truck, tearing into a bag of chips like we’re not parked twenty feet away from a live action rated R scene.
She pauses mid-step and turns toward me. Even with her hair mussed from the drive and that unimpressed glare on her face, she’s stunning. Dammit. Every time I look at her, I’m reminded how unfair life is.
"Seriously?" she says, one brow raised.
"Yep," I answer with a grin, popping another chip into my mouth.
Since I can’t have the real thing, my imagination works just fine. I could pull her closer by the waist, feel what kind of lace or silk she hides under those skirts she loves so much. The thought makes me choke slightly on the chip.
"Ronan," she says sharply.
I blink innocently. "I’m sorry, what?"
She narrows her eyes at me like she knows exactly where my mind wandered. I give her my most angelic smile.
"Is this really the right time for them to be—" she gestures vaguely toward the SUV, "—doing that?"
"When is it ever the wrong time to have sex?" I ask, deadpan.
Sitting up a little on the hood, propping my chin on my hand, still chewing. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" I ask, my voice full of mock indignation.
Simone doesn’t even look at me as she rounds the truck. "Nothing, nothing," she says in that tone that definitely means something.
I narrow my eyes. "You’re lying."
She slides gracefully into the driver’s seat and shuts the door with a decisive thud.
"You overthink everything, Ronan."
"You’re the one dropping cryptic insults!" I call back, popping another chip into my mouth.
Her hands settle on the steering wheel, her back perfectly straight. Through the windshield she raises one brow at me.
"Tempting," she says in response to my earlier plea not to start the engine and flatten me.
I sit up quickly, clutching my snack bag to my chest like it’s a shield.
"Don’t you dare. These chips didn’t ask to die this way."
Her lips twitch—almost a smile. "You’d deserve it."
I gasp dramatically, sliding off the hood and landing beside the truck with a lazy stretch.
"You know, my beautiful goddess, you keep talking to me like that and I might think you like me."
She snorts, the sound equal parts amusement and disbelief.
"You’d think that no matter how I talk to you."
I grin. "True."
She rolls her eyes, and I swing the driver’s side door open, leaning casually against the frame.
"So you don’t have even the faintest affection for me?" I ask, tilting my head like I’m genuinely curious.
"I do not." Her tone is flat, merciless.
"Really? Not even a tiny, tiny little bit?" I press, holding my fingers close together to demonstrate just how minuscule an amount I’m willing to settle for.
"Well, less than nothing means the negatives," I explain, wagging a finger like I’m delivering a lecture. "You can’t negatively like someone unless you hate them. But you know what they say about the fine line between hate and love..."
She just stares at me, dumbfounded, lips parting slightly as if she can’t believe I’ve weaponized logic for this nonsense.
"You would thank me even if I stepped on you," she says finally, dry as the desert, clearly joking.
I lean in a little, keeping my face perfectly serious. "Are you offering?"
She blinks slowly, incredulous. "Have you no self-respect?"
"When it comes to you, my goddess? Nope." I grin shamelessly, taking her hand before she can pull it away. The jewelry on her fingers shifts and catches the light, little sparks of gold and silver against her skin.
For a second, I just watch it glint. Distracted by her skin, against the ivory, gold, wooden bracelets and charms.