Swiftcurrent Creek nuevo

She questioned him—her antics not entirely ceasing as her tail brushed against him, eliciting another possessive growl from the man, his hips flexing just barely in response, his eyes narrowing. He resisted maintaining his position—encouraging her to figure it out. Instead, above her, one forelimb swung below, securing her tightly closer to his chest, his grip loosening to trail tender bites along the back of her nape—a dangerous game before his mouth pressed closer to her ear. “I expected a donkey kick to my junk,” he murmured with mild amusement, and then released her gently, moving away from her and the warmth she radiated. “But I’m not willing to risk any future Mayfair’s for a friendly spar.”

His eyes grazed over her, assessing. “You keep your opponent surprised and guessing—it’s going to work well for you. You could have tried to loosen my grip by thrashing or twisting—but that could have further injured you.”