He chuckled as Mitchell’s face turned red from embarrassment and desire. Hopefully, his hunt for the human who dared cross him wouldn’t take long because Alejandro looked forward to the fireworks to come, both in and out of the bedroom.
Returning to the bedroom, Mitchell seethed at the cat’s words, but his anger receded in the face of Francine looking so small and helpless in the big bed. Of course, he should have known her tongue was in fine fighting shape.
“Are you guys done pissing on Naomi’s walls? Or would you like to each grab one of my legs and pull me apart like a wishbone and see who gets the bigger piece?”
“You must be feeling better. You’re trying to rip a strip off me,” he remarked in a dry tone as he sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “Move over, you bed hog.”
“No. I’m the injured one here.”
“Excuse me? Do you think I’m wearing this bandage because it’s fashionable?”
She peered over at him, her eyes lingering more on his nude torso than his bandage, which made him puff up his chest. “Wuss. My bandage is bigger than yours,” she sassed, but she inched over a bit.
He slid down on the bed until he lay beside Francine, his head on the edge of the same pillow. Her eyes didn’t meet his for long, focusing instead again on the white strips binding him. Then, as if unable to resist, her gaze strayed to the rest of his bare chest, heating him without a single touch. Mitchell grew hard under her regard, and cursed his loose track pants, which made that point all too evident. He tried to cover it with his hand but that just drew her attention to it.
“Nice wood. Hope you don’t usually whack off with your left hand,” she said with a snicker.
“You have a filthy mouth, Francine.”
“All the better to do wicked things with. Hey, weren’t you supposed to be tied to a bed somewhere to make sure you didn’t get out and reopen your own gunshot wound?”
He shrugged. “They tried, but when I heard you got hurt, I kind of broke the bed to come see you.” Which hurt like a fucking bitch, but he lost his freakn’ mind when he heard about Francine’s injury.
“Ah, isn’t that the sweetest thing, but stop trying to distract me. What did you and Alejandro discuss?”
“He’s leaving and told me to take care of you.” He didn’t bother lying.
“What? He wasn’t serious, was he? He could get hurt.”
Again, his shoulders lifted in dismissal while at the same time, irritation filled him that she seemed to care so much about the cat’s wellbeing. But obviously not enough to let him mark her last night. Which meant he still had a chance. “Who cares? It’s his fault we both got shot so it’s only right he fix it.”
“What is it with you guys and the macho bullshit about taking responsibility? Just because some psycho fixated on Jag doesn’t mean it’s his fault. Did he say how long he’ll be gone?”
“He didn’t. But, honestly, do you really think he’s coming back?”
She bit her lip and didn’t reply, but he saw the tears in her eyes. A twinge of guilt made him sigh and say, “I’m sure it will only be a day or so. Long enough to catch the human and stop him from hurting anyone else. But, you won’t be alone. I’m not leaving your side.”
“Gee, lucky me,” she grumbled.
“What happened to we’re meant to be together forever?” He said it in a teasing tone, but a part of him held his breath waiting for her reply, hoping he’d not completely fucked things up. Tied to a bed, with only his thoughts for company-his lonely state probably caused by him yelling at everyone to get out-left a man with way too much time to think. Hours to sift through his emotions and visualize one person over and over, and not just naked in his bed, but in his life, as a friend and lover.
He’d finally caught the damned mating fever and like a mask lifted from his eyes, he could now see Francine in a new light. See the merits in mating with someone who knew him and his family and didn’t run in fear. Appreciate the fact that she shared some of his same interests like watching sports and even playing them. Snicker with pride over the way one tiny girl used her tongue and rapier wit to defend herself. And most of all, he finally saw her as more than the pig-tailed torment who’d tackled him so many times he vowed never to play football again. He looked at her and saw…perfection. My mate. And his wolf sighed in canine relief that the idiot human it was stuck with finally stopped being a dumbass.
Startled from his musings, he heard her reply. “I gave up on you as a mate. Too much work. And besides, you’re grumpy. I don’t need to wake up to that every day.”
He frowned. “I am not grumpy.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Children, behave!” shouted Naomi from the hall.
“Am not,” he whispered.
She elbowed his injured side, and he sucked in a breath. “Ow! That wasn’t nice.”
“Pussy.”
“Shrew.”
She snickered. “Shrew? Really? That’s the best you could come up with.”
“You’re really annoying sometimes, you know?”
“Only sometimes? I’ll have to try harder then.”
“Or you could shut up. You know, enjoy the sound of silence and rest your gums.”
“Make me.”
What possessed him, he didn’t know. The scent of the cat still lingered on her. He’d not yet resolved what he wanted to do about her. Actually, he had, he wanted her, but he wanted to go about it slowly, cautiously. But still despite all that, he kissed her, a brief touch at first, which sent a jolt of awareness through him and made her gasp. He liked it, liked it a lot actually, and even better, she seemed to as well. So he kissed her again, slanting his mouth over hers, testing its fullness before tugging her lower lip between his for a suck. She parted her mouth, a small moan of need rolling into his. He thrust his tongue into the opening, ran it along the length of hers, tasted her, and wanted more.
Her hand crept up to touch his face, and he didn’t miss her wince. It brought him back to sanity, but did nothing to curb his arousal. He pulled back. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why did I know you were going to say that?” she replied on a sigh.
“I didn’t mean I regretted kissing you. That we’re definitely going to have to do again, but first you need to heal. I don’t want to be the jerk who takes advantage of you while you are lying injured in bed.”
“Could have fooled me,” Naomi said from the doorway. “Men. Always thinking with their little heads instead of their big ones. Now get out so she can sleep.”
A mulish expression dropped over Francine’s face and he could smell the coming fight. He verbally stepped in before it could erupt. “I’m staying. Besides, won’t it make it easier if we’re both in the same room to take care of?”
“I thought you weren’t that injured,” his sister said, narrowing her eyes in challenge.
Adopting a puppy dog face, he tried to look as pitiful as possible while beside him, Francine snickered. “I’m feeling kind of weak, actually. I think all that exertion has caught up. Francine won’t mind if I nap beside her. Will you, Red?”
She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. But I warn you right now, I’ve been told I’m a bed hog.”
And boy, did that turn out to be the understatement of the century, Mitchell thought as she sprawled on her stomach across the mattress, the comforter tucked under her cheek while he held on by the tiniest sliver of mattress. However, despite the discomfort, he couldn’t really say there was another place he’d rather be. The thought didn’t frighten him as much as he expected.