Page 13 of Untamed Instincts

“Why do I get the impression you don’t want me here?” He pulled his hand away but was ready to grab it again if necessary.

“I’m just exhausted.” He covered a yawn with his hand. A toddler could’ve given a better performance.

A soft, irritated growl rolled up his throat. “Please do not insult my intelligence, Noah.”

His mate looked him over. Quinton took a step back, realizing his height was intimidating to a person Noah’s size.

“I just want the truth, cub.” Quinton softened his voice, dropping the growl from his tone.

Noah glanced nervously around. “I know this sounds cliche, but it’s not you.”

And now Quinton felt like his mate was moments from sending him on his way. “Then what is it?”

His mate’s shoulders slumped as he let out a deep sigh. “You’re the first man, aside from my brother and best friend, who’s ever been in my apartment.”

Call him thick-headed, but Quinton still didn’t understand. “And that somehow makes you nervous?”

Plenty of people went to the other person’s house for a hookup. Quinton never brought anyone home. Made things less complicated that way.

When the fun was over, you didn’t have to find a polite way of asking your bed partner to leave. You just dipped out from their house and made your way home.

“Yes,” Noah admitted, still refusing to look at him.

“Can I ask why?”

“I think the coffee is ready.” Noah shot past him and nearly ran into the wall. Wincing, Quinton quickly reached for his mate, but Noah moved lightning-fast into the kitchen.

His mate was definitely an enigma. Quinton couldn’t figure him out. At the bar, Noah had been engaging and smiling, even a little flirtatious. At the diner, he had started to cool off.

Now? Quinton couldn’t make heads or tails of the guy.

“How do you take your coffee?” Noah asked after poking his head out.

“Black is fine.” He wasn’t so sure his mate needed to drink the caffeinated coffee. He was already jittery enough.

Noah walked out with a mug in each hand than offered one to Quinton before leading him to the couch. More like walked to it and left Quinton to invite his own self to sit down.

“I can’t believe how tired I am.” The next yawn seemed more genuine. Quinton was used to very little sleep. He’d been that way for at least six decades.

He could function with no problem with as little as four hours of sleep.

“Noah.” Quinton set his cup on the rug and turn to face his mate. “Please tell me what’s really going on. I’m a good listener, and it takes a lot to upset or shock me.”

His mate nibbled on his lower lip, drawing Quinton’s attention to their plumpness, and he had to fight not to kiss them.

“You make me want things,” Noah finally said like he’d had to muster all of his courage just to say that.

Want things? Preternatural couldn’t get drunk off of human alcohol—though he’d learned that fey could—but Quinton began to wonder if those beers had gone to his head.

“Can you be a little more specific?” Although Quinton was ninety percent sure his mate was referring to sex, he didn’t want to assume anything.

But he sure as hell was hoping that was what Noah wanted. His mate was extremely handsome, his chestnut-brown hair purposely styled to look as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He had expressive green eyes and a long, slim neck Quinton wanted to run his lips over. His features were a combination of boyish and masculine, creating the perfect blend of beauty.

“Specific?” That red-hot, burning-as-hot-as-hellfire blush returned, setting his face ablaze.

Now there wasn’t a question in Quinton’s mind what his mate was talking about.

If Noah didn’t know how to ask, Quinton had no problem taking the reins. He cupped Noah’s jaw and leaned forward, taking his mate’s mouth in a searing kiss.

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