Page 107 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

For a second, he stares at my hand, his brown eyes dark and wide. Poor male. I bend at the waist so I can snag his wrist and pull him to the nest. I know he’s not rejecting me. He’s just overcome. I understand.

I can hear his heartbeat in my ear. Our blood rushes along in our veins at the exact same speed.

My yank gets him moving, and he climbs into my nest with the enthusiasm and grace of a moon-drunk wolf. He manages to undo everything.

My wolf growls, and a little too late, he notices there’s a system of organization. He settles himself in the middle of the nest and gives me a rueful smile. “Sorry about that.”

I shake my head. “Now I have to do it all over again. Stay there. Don’t move.”

He hangs his head, but he’s still smiling as I replace pillows and rearrange sheets. It’s much more difficult with a huge male plopped right in the middle.

Finally, after a few more tugs to make sure my tucks will hold, I sit back and sigh. Perfect again.

And then I see the pillow. Justus is holding it in his lap. It’s supposed to be at the head of the pallet by the apple crate. I frown.

He grins.

He did it on purpose.

I growl.

His wolf growls back deeper, stirring a strange excitement deep inside me.

Unacceptable. I dart forward on my hands and knees to snatch the pillow back, but he holds on tight, and I tip forward and smack into him.

I jerk the pillow, but his grip is too tight. “It’s not funny,” I say.

He laughs low. “Say please.”

My breasts are crushed against his hard chest, and our arms tangle in the narrow space between our bellies. Our legs are a jumble. I struggle for the pillow, but for some reason, my muscles are the kind of weak you get from laughing.

“Give it back,” I pant.

He wrangles the hand holding the pillow free and raises it high over his head. “What will you trade me for it?” he asks. His brown eyes sparkle.

I climb full on top of him, bracing one knee on each thigh, and rise up until we’re face to face. My bare forearm presses against his as I strain to reach. My skin is soft against his hard muscle. Our wrists touch, pulse to pulse.

His pupils blow, and I can make out my reflection in the shine of the black.

“Ask me for it,” he teases, smirking, testing me. He’s not in charge here. This ismynest. I allow him here.

I let my hand fall and turn my head away.

He snarls. He doesn’t like that.

I drop back so I’m sitting on the pallet, lift my chin, and fold my arms. His wolf rumbles unhappily. He shouldn’t have let his man mess with my nest.

He dips his head and looks up at me from his lowered eyes, a wolf playing at a lamb. “I’m sorry, Annie. Here it is.”

He holds the pillow out.

It’s a trap.

Of course it’s a trap. I reach for it anyway. As soon as I grab the pillow, he yanks and falls to his back, dragging me with him. I tumble on top of him. He quickly nips the pillow from my grasp, tucks it behind his head, and grins up at me.

I push up on his chest, struggling upright until I’m straddling his waist. He crosses his arms behind his head.

I lean forward and try to pull the pillow free, but his head is too heavy.

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