Sitting down beside her on the couch, enjoying simply having her there, "Nope. His mother belonged to the West Philadelphia Pride and our mom to the South Philly. Our mom died when we were born and her Pride didn't want us."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Got me. Sometimes cats just get that way."

"So your dad took you in?"

"Yeah. He raised us. Was determined to do things differently."

"Differently than what?"

"His father. He died in prison. Art thief."

Ronnie pulled her legs up onto the couch, her arms around them and her chin resting on her knees. "I used to have an Uncle Louie who robbed banks until he was shot in the head."

Brendon leaned back and put his feet up on his coffee table. "Ya gotta love family, huh?"

"Not really. But you can't pick your family. It's just the way it is. Your brother can't be that bad, though."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't think you'd be worried about him if you thought he was hopeless."

"Know that much about me already, huh?"

"Nah. Just a feeling I have. And I'm usually pretty right about people. Got it from my great-grandmother. She was Blackfoot tribe...or...something."

"And you have three brothers."

"Yup." She shook her head. "They wouldn't like your pretty face one bit."

"Don't give a rat's ass about your brothers. Do you like my pretty face?"

"Yeah. I do." She gently stroked his cheek. "But if my brothers come to New York and find you sniffing around me, what the Doogan brothers did to you in those tunnels will seem like a cakewalk compared to the Reed boys."

Brendon leaned into her, his eyes locked on her lips. "I'll take my chances," he whispered and moved in.

Should have kept his eyes open, though. It would have prevented him from going face-first into his couch.

By the time he sat up, she had his front door open.

"Where are you going?"

"My momma says to hell in a handbasket, but I'm fightin' that."

She got as far as the elevator before he caught hold of the back of her denim shorts and proceeded to drag her back into his apartment.

"You're not walking out on me again."

"I can't stay. I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"Have sex with guys who don't even know my name." She grabbed the doorjamb and held on for dear life. "I promised myself no more of this wild child bullshit. I'm thirty now, I gotta be responsible."

"And being with me isn't responsible?"

"And I repeat-you didn't even know my name and you'd already started sucking on my nipples. So, yeah, I'd say this is us about to be irresponsible."

He had to pry her fingers off the doorjamb and haul her into his apartment. "Your name was the first thing I planned to ask you when I came out of the fever, but you were already gone."

She scrambled out of his arms and backed up into his apartment. Thankfully, she didn't smell frightened, but she did seem wary. He just didn't think it was about him.

"I swear it's nothing personal," she insisted, "but it is for the best."

"Don't leave, Ronnie."

She shook her head. "I can't stay. I won't stay."

Brendon realized there was only one thing he could do. A risk. But he had to try. "I understand." He walked away from the door so he no longer blocked her exit. "I'm sorry."

"No, no. You didn't do anything wrong, darlin'. It's all me." With one last look at him, those beautiful eyes filled with regret, she headed toward the door.

Letting out a low, mournful sigh, he sat on the armrest of one of his club chairs, his head hanging down.

"What...what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. You better go."

He didn't look at her and when he heard the door open, it took all his strength not to run over and slam it before she could leave.

He waited. The door didn't close.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go on. I'm just tired."

Another moment of silence, a growl, and then the front door slammed shut. Cool hands grabbed his jaw and lifted his head. "Look at me."

He did...and Christ, those eyes.

"I bet it's that fever. I told you it hadn't finished with you yet."

"I'll be okay. Really. I'm sure I'm only tired."

"Come on." She took his arm and put it around her shoulders. "We're taking you to bed before you pass out or start running down Fifth Avenue on all fours."

Brendon let her help him up, and he led her straight to his bedroom. As she helped him onto his bed and proceeded to take off his boots, he realized that yes, he would be going to hell for lying his ass off.

Somehow he knew, though, that Ronnie Lee Reed would be worth every second he'd burn.

He could be faking it. Hell, he probably was faking it.

And if she were to be real honest with herself, she didn't really care. He'd given her a guilt-free excuse to come right back inside and take this man to bed...uh...to help him through the fever. She wouldn't get into bed with him.

Unless he needed her to.

Clearing her throat, she dropped his frighteningly large work boots at the side of the bed. "We should...uh...get your jeans off, too."

"Okay." He pushed himself up on his elbows and let out that sigh again.

"Now don't go exerting yourself. I don't mind helping." Yeah. Helping. She didn't mind helping one bit.

Forcing herself to be completely impartial, she reached for his jeans. "We'll get you out of these and into bed. By morning you should be right as rain."

She pulled his jeans down past his hips, realizing too late the man wore no underwear. Swallowing past the lump of lust in her throat, she locked her knees tight and yanked his jeans down his legs.

"I really appreciate you taking care of me like this."

"Oh, it's no bother." No bother at all when a man had thighs like these. Big. Hard. Perfect. She could "hee haw" her way to orgasm on those thighs.

Crouching at the end of the bed to finish pulling off his jeans, she tried not to think about the mouthwatering cock a few inches from her mouth. She didn't do very well, but she did really try.

"Ronnie?"

Ronnie closed her eyes. If you look at him, you're a goner. Whatever you do, don't look at him.

"Ronnie. Look at me."

Damn, damn, damn!

Still crouching by the bed, Ronnie slowly lifted her head.

"Open your eyes."

"I don't think I should."

"Okay. Keep 'em closed."

Strong hands gently gripped her face, big fingers sliding into her hair, angling her head a little up and to the side.

"Keep 'em closed," he whispered, his warm breath against her mouth. "Keep 'em closed and just kiss me, Ronnie Lee."

Shaw's lips brushed hers. Tongue stroking, teeth nipping. Ronnie grabbed hold of his wrists and whimpered. She opened her mouth, and Shaw dived in. His tongue tangling with hers, both of them groaning.

Then, with his fingers still buried in her hair, he pulled her to her feet. Before she could even blink, he had her on her back across his lion-sized bed.

Yup. Goner.

Chapter Eight.

A bsolutely. This woman was absolutely worth any stint in hell he may have to do. Her smell. Her taste. That canine "yip" sound she'd make every time he nipped her neck. All of those things were driving the lion buried inside him out of control.

"Christ, you smell good."

Ronnie didn't answer him, but slid her hands under his sweater and yanked it up. He stopped kissing her long enough for her to pull the sweater over his head and throw it across the room.

"If you value your clothes," he said while kissing her throat, "you'll get them off in the next thirty seconds. I won't be responsible for what happens after that."

She pulled out of their kiss and dragged her body out from under his.

"My daddy's," she explained about the T-shirt before it went sailing across the room. Her lace bra went flying next.

"No," he growled low. "The boots stay on."

Brendon had never met a female who looked at him with such raw sexual hunger. Exactly like the way Ronnie looked at him now, her hands sliding up the cowboy boot she'd been seconds from taking off, up her leg, until she reached the fly of her shorts. Clasp opened, zipper down, and then she wriggled that gorgeous body out of the scraps of denim.

"Come here," he ordered, and watched with narrow eyes as she backed away from him, still on her knees.

Her lips curved into a smile and her eyes shifted from human to wolf. She reached the top of his bed, shoving his pillows to the floor before leaning back against his headboard, her arms hooked over the top.

She spread her knees wide so he could see the wetness of her pussy and her trembling thighs. Softly, she said, "If you want this, hoss, you better come over here and get it."

No one had ever accused Ronnie of being shy. If she knew what she wanted, she went after it without a second's thought. Being wolf, this wasn't exactly surprising.

This bit of her character put off most human men or attracted the really scummy ones. Wolf males saw a challenge. A chance to dominate. They always thought they had to. And once they made her come they thought they owned her. They were always so shocked when they woke up in the morning and found her long gone.

She could say in all honesty that although she'd had some wonderful lovers, she'd never met her match.

Until Brendon Shaw dropped to all fours and crawled across his bed to her. Fangs slowly slid from his gums, and his claws kept catching on his sheets. He didn't rush over to her, slam her down. He moved like the king of the jungle he believed himself to be. Like he knew he'd get what he wanted eventually. She liked that he hadn't dived face-first into her muff in the hope of forcing that orgasm out of her so he could get in and get off.

Nope. Shaw meandered his way across that bed like the world belonged to him. Once he reached her, he nuzzled her thigh and licked the back of her knee. His hands smoothed across her skin, exploring every inch, taking his time. He even rubbed his mane of hair across her breasts and stomach, the feel of it exciting her more than any tongue or finger ever had.

Eventually he moved lower, his tongue swiping up between her legs, licking the wetness already coating the inside of her thighs. Then he purred, and Ronnie's eyes crossed. She gripped the headboard and gritted her teeth. "Let him work for it" had always been her motto, but his skills were such, he didn't have to work very hard.

Big hands slipped around the back of her legs and lifted her hips up, resting her thighs on his shoulders. Her cowboy boots pressed against his back, and his hands took firm hold of her ass. His tongue swept inside her and Ronnie cried out, her hips rocking against his mouth. Brutally fast, that orgasm crawled up her spine. Her body tightening, her claws gripping the back of his headboard, tearing at the wood.

Yet the man didn't seem to be rushing anything. Licking her slow and easy, still purring up against her flesh. Ronnie looked down to see that oh-so-happy smile he sported while giving her head-and she came like a freight train all over that pretty face.

Shaw rode it out with her, keeping a tight hold on her until her ecstatic cries turned to exhausted whimpering.

Grinning like he owned the universe, he lowered her legs until they rested against his thighs. Ronnie still had her arms holding the headboard, so Shaw ran his hands over her body. When his big thumbs grazed her nipples, she squeaked.