Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 131137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
If I was lying in bed with you now, if I had my hands on your body, where would you want me to touch you first?
Her traitorous body had responded to that, just like it was responding to his very presence now. But getting him to go away would be simple enough. Not simply because seduction wouldn’t be possible, but because no wolf liked to be around menstruating female shifters. Shifter PMS was a bitch—a time filled with excessive fatigue, mood swings, irritability, cramps, bloating, aching breasts, tension, increased appetite, sleeplessness, and hot flashes.
“So that’s why you’re snippier than usual,” said Nick. “It explains what your pretty ass is doing out of bed so early, too—you usually have major trouble getting up in the morning.” It also explained why her breasts were bigger than usual. But he wouldn’t comment on that. He wasn’t stupid.
She gasped, indignant. “I get out of bed just fine each morning, thanks. And I’m not snippy.”
If he was sensible, he’d walk away. Female wolves with PMS were likely to eat someone’s face off at the slightest provocation. But this was his female wolf. And right now, she needed someone to take care of her, whether she’d admit it or not. He curled an arm around her shoulders and used his free hand to push the cart. “Come on, baby. Tell me what stuff you need, and I’ll help you get this over with. Then you can go home and lounge on the sofa all day. Doesn’t that sound good?”
It did, actually. Nonetheless, she snapped, “I’m perfectly capable of putting items in a freaking shopping cart.”
“Of course you are. But if I help, you’ll get out of here sooner.” Despite her grumbles and the string of unprovoked insults she flung at him as they strolled down aisle after aisle, Nick aided her in loading the cart and then helped her bag the items. When he offered to pay, he thought she’d break his jaw.
“I’m not a charity case,” she hissed. Slightly mollified by his apologetic look, Shaya fished the money from her purse and held it out to the cashier…who was staring lustfully at Nick and wearing a seductive smile. Shaya cleared her throat particularly loud. “Do you see something that you like, because he doesn’t,” she spat. Apparently the guy waiting to be served behind her thought that was pretty funny. Shaya wasn’t at all amused.
Holding the grocery bags with one arm, Nick gently but firmly took Shaya’s hand and pulled her to him. “Ready to go home, baby?” Her response was a low growl that made him smile. As she ranted in the parking lot about how much she liked to walk thank-you-very-much, he placed the bags into the trunk of his car and then guided her into the passenger seat.
She continued ranting all the way home, and he did what any wise male shifter did when his mate had a PMS-induced tantrum—he kept his mouth shut and nodded along. She was still ranting when they pulled up outside her house. When he retrieved her bags from the trunk of his car, Shaya went to take them from him, but he shook his head and advanced up her driveway.
Shaya growled. “I’m—”
“Perfectly capable of carrying your own bags,” he finished soothingly. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do it for you, does it?”
“Stop with the therapist tone!” Realizing that something about the yard was different, Shaya took a moment to study her surroundings. “Did you mow the lawn?”
Nick shrugged. “It kind of needed it. You only just noticed? I did it yesterday while you were at work.”
Huffing, she marched to the front door and unlocked it. “Do you have to be so fucking nice and helpful?” she growled.
“Now, Shay—”
“It’s hard to hate you when you’re nice and helpful!”
“Good. I don’t want you to hate me.”
Ignoring the murderous look Shaya shot him, he walked right on into the house like he had every right. She followed him, watching with growing agitation—like she wasn’t agitated enough!—as he began puttering around her kitchen. “Okay, look, you’ve earned a gold sticker for ass-kissing. Now get the hell out and—” She gave a startled yelp as he lifted her, sat her on the kitchen counter, and then stood between her legs.
Nick handed her some Tylenol and a glass of water. “Here. Take these.” It was most likely sheer stubbornness that made her hesitate. “You’re in pain, baby. Take them.”
There was enough authority in the latter words to make her bite back a snappy comment. Her wolf reluctantly backed down too. Conceding to herself that she did in fact need the pills and that refusing would be stupid, she sighed inwardly and snatched them from his hand. Once she’d washed them down with the water, he took her glass and placed it on the counter.