Page 17 of Untamed Instincts

Noah couldn’t explain why, but something deep inside assured him that Quinton, no matter how angry he seemed, would never hurt him.

Quinton pointed a finger between them. “Are you sure you’re with me? Do I have your attention?”

“Yes.” With a playful grin, Noah slapped his chest, mostly because he liked the way it felt beneath his hand.

With a single nod, Quinton said, “I’m a bear shifter.”

Noah tilted his head, a smirk creeping up. “Polar, black, or grizzly?”

Quinton let out a low grunt. “You think I’m joking. You don’t believe me.”

“No, I believe you. So which one?”

“Grizzly?” He stared at Noah as if he didn’t trust his reaction. “Care to tell me how you know?”

“About your existence?” Noah scoffed. “My crappy-ass stepdad. He’s a wolf shifter, and a lousy one at that.”

He had been the first person Noah had gone to about his Toro problem, and Jack’s advice had been for Noah to make sure his will was up to date.

That had only been the latest in a long line of useless advice he’d given Noah and Layne over the years.

“Lousy?” That seemed to confused the hell out of Quinton.

“Yes. Lousy and lazy. Guy marries my mom, doesn’t do anything around the house. That’s a woman’s job.” Noah plucked at some lint on Quinton’s shirt, thinking of all the ways his stepdad was a loser. Not that he wanted to denigrate the guy, but he wanted to paint a picture of the shifters he’d been around for the past seven years.

“Jack has his buddies over at least twice a week, each one trying to prove who’s the toughest by either flexing or simply trash-talking the others. He gives the worst advice. And whenever I stop by, the bastard ruffles my hair, gives me five bucks, and tells me not to spend it all in one place. Nothing costs five dollars anymore!”

Jack’s toxic masculinity was one of the reasons Noah hadn’t come out to his family. The only people who knew were his brother and best friend.

Quinton was still looking at him skeptically.

“Don’t believe me? Go see what you can buy with five bucks,” Noah scoffed.

“Is your mom Jack’s mate?” Quinton asked, fighting a smile.

“I heard him use that word once or twice,” Noah admitted, now tracing the letters on Quinton’s T-shirt that spelled out Givenchy. “But soulmates? My mom and Jack? Hard to imagine.”

Noah’s finger stalled on the letter N as his thoughts began to piece together. His overwhelming attraction to Quinton. His inability to get into his car at the diner and drive away. Inviting the guy home when he’d never done anything like that before.

When he looked up, Quinton was just watching him, like he was waiting for Noah to connect the dots.

“Yes,” Quinton said softly, answering the unspoken question. “We’re mates.”

Noah’s breath caught. He knew what that meant, in a sense, but didn’t know the intricacies involved though. Jack as definitely a dick, though Noah envied the way the guy treated Noah’s mom, and the way Jack looked at her was something special. The love that shined in his eyes was enough to take anyone’s breath away.

Despite his mom and Jack being nothing alike, there was no denying how he felt about her, which demolished Noah’s earlier thought of finding it hard to believe they were soulmates. It made him wonder what having that kind of connection with someone would feel like.

Noah tried to get up, but he was stuffed between Quinton’s solid frame and the couch, making it almost impossible to move. When he finally managed to pull himself free—Quinton was no help—Noah had come close to face-planting on the floor, his legs tangled in his clothes still halfway down his legs.

“Whoa!” Strong hands caught him before he smashed his face on the carpet. Quinton eased him back, his grip gentle for such a large guy.

Now on his back, lying over Quinton—and his exposed cock—Noah lifted his hips to pull his clothes back up his legs, but his underwear had somehow twisted inside his pants.

The mountain under him began to tremble with a deep, semi-suppressed chuckle.

Noah tilted his head up and to the side to glare at Quinton. The guy didn’t even have the decency to look repentant.

“Need help?” Quinton smirked.

---