Page 14 of The Renegade Mate

“It’s just a scratch,” I said, though now that the haze of the fight was fading, it was throbbing painfully.

“What about you?” I placed my hands on his chest, searching for a wound. His shirt had a slash in it, but I couldn’t see or smell any blood.

“She missed. It’s just my favorite shirt that got attacked.”

Ryan led me over to a chair. I sat down, and he crouched before me, inspecting the wound with gentle fingers. His touch sent little sparks dancing across my skin, despite the circumstances.

“We’ll need to clean this properly, but for now …” Ryan trailed off as he tore a strip of fabric from his already tattered shirt.

I had to fight the instinct to pull away and insist I could handle it myself. Letting someone care for me went against every self-reliant instinct life had ingrained in me. I forced myself to stay still.

This was new territory for me—letting my guard down, allowing vulnerability instead of pushing it away. Ryan had broken through those walls, his devotion enabling me to unlearn the belief carved into me during four years on the run that accepting help was dangerous.

I sucked in a breath, arousal swirling as his muscular chest and arms were exposed. He gently wrapped the makeshift bandage around the gash, his fingers lingering on my skin.

Our eyes locked, the air suddenly charged between us. Still gripping my arm, he leaned in, bringing his lips to the sensitive spot just below my ear. I shivered as his tongue traced delicate patterns on my skin.

“Ryan …” I gasped as I felt heat pooling between my legs.

His stubble scraped my neck as he made his way to my mouth, capturing my lips in a kiss. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against me as our tongues danced.

He pulled back just far enough to meet my gaze, his eyes burning with lust. “You know, I can't just take your word for it. Thomas would be furious with me if I didn't check you over for other injuries. Thoroughly check you over.”

“I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble with Thomas,” I whispered back, my voice husky with need.

Ryan grinned wickedly. “Let’s get you somewhere more private then.”

We made our excuses, and as Ryan led me toward our room, I watched his muscles ripple under his torn shirt. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. After fighting together, with all the adrenaline still bouncing around in me, my body burned for him.

The mate bond seemed to ignite something primal within me. I wanted him to claim me, possess me, remind me that I was his. I yearned to feel him unleashed on my willing body. I didn’t want him to hold anything back. The mate bond was like a drug, heightening my senses, my lust, my need for his touch. I shuddered just thinking about having his muscular frame pinned on top of me, utterly under his control as he took me with unrestrained desire.

Ryan opened the door, and we stepped into our bedroom. It was a large space decorated in soft blues and off-whites. A king-sized bed sat in the middle of the floor, a bedside table with a funky steel lamp, and an antique wardrobe to the side. An open door opposite the bed opened into an adjoining bathroom.

Ryan locked the door behind us, his eyes hooded with desire. A smirk played across his lips. “Why don’t you lie back and relax?”

He walked me back until my knees hit the edge of the bed, then Ryan lowered himself onto me, bracing himself with one hand as he slowly peeled my top over my head and tossed it aside. I trembled as his fingers trailed down my stomach, my body craving more of his touch. Ryan leaned over me, his hot breath tickling my neck as his lips trailed down to my collarbone. I let out a soft moan as his hands slowly roamed over my body, kneading and teasing my skin.

My nerve endings sizzled as our bare chests brushed together.

“You’re incredible,” he said, his voice a low growl.

I arched my hips into his, my hands sliding across his back, feeling his broad shoulders bunch and flex as he pressed into me.

Every ounce of him was pure muscle, hard and rippling. I followed the lines of his biceps, his broad shoulders, marveling at the warrior’s body that would be claiming mine tonight.

He ground against me, the rigid length of him hot even through our clothes. I whimpered, arching into him again, desperate for that connection.

My head felt light, as if I were floating on air, and all the while, heat pooled between my thighs, wetness seeping through my panties with every movement.

I inhaled his scent, of pine needles and musk and something uniquely Ryan.

He pulled away and lifted me to my feet to shimmy me out of my jeans and panties. He let out a predatory growl at the sight of my wet panties.

“Perfect,” he murmured. Eager hands quickly rid us both of the last of our clothing.

“Hurry,” I breathed. I needed him. The ache was building, the throbbing between my legs begging to be satisfied by him.

His hands circled my ass, giving it a playful squeeze just long enough to make me gasp, then they slid around and higher to cup my breasts. The feel of his erect cock pressing against my stomach made my breath hitch in anticipation.

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