Gentry and Brown fed tips to every military and police connection they had. Knowing the docks were being watched for any sign of Cyrus’s shipments was a huge comfort. So was Ellen’s willingness, albeit reluctant, to help them. Mal was right on that front, as well. Ellen wasn’t an Other. But why she’d stayed with them remained a mystery to them all.
“Hey.” The word was low, gruff, and delicious, pulling her back into the present.
She was in her mate’s arms. And he wanted, and deserved, all of her attention.
“I am faster than you.” She tugged his head down to hers, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“You are,” he said, his lips brushing hers as he added. “Faster. Softer.” His hand gripped her breast.
The rigid length of his arousal pressed against her hip. “You win in the rock-hard category.” As his hand slid under her hair to cup her head, she arched against him.
“Your fault.” He sucked her lower lip into his mouth.
Her breath hitched. She loved what she did to him. And, oh, the things he did to her. No matter how many days they spent tangled up in each other, it was never enough. One look, a single touch, and her body throbbed to life. She craved him like her lungs craved air.
“My fault?” she whispered as his lips moved to her neck. “Are you complaining?”
“Hell no,” he mumbled. His teeth nipped her neck. “No complaints.” His lips brushed hers. “You’re mine. That’s all I need.”
She smiled against his mouth, her fingers twining in his thick, dark hair. “You’re talking too much.”
He lifted his head, chuckling. “You have something else in mind?”
She nodded, tugging the towel from his waist and pressing herself against him
. “I do.”
He growled, his hands sliding up and under her shirt. “I like the way your mind works.”