If a man could kick his own ass, Simon’s would be bruised all to hell and gone. If he’d mated her months ago when he first realized what was happening she would have been able to kick Livia’s ass. In short, it was his fault that she’d been hurt.

 

“Whoa.” Becky looked around, taking everything in, much to his amusement. This was the first time she’d been in his home. He hoped she liked it, because if he had his way she wasn’t leaving it. The sofa he’d put her down on was a sectional with an attached chaise; the coffee table and entertainment center were contemporary in design. The glass in the center of the maple coffee table was Simon’s work, depicting a puma with jewel-bright eyes stalking through the woods. “It’s not what I expected.”

 

“What did you expect?”

 

Her expression was pleasantly surprised. “Something a little more ‘bachelor slob’ and a little less ‘comfy contemporary’.”

 

He grinned. “Do you like it?”

 

“Yeah.” She winced as she tried to sit up and take everything in. He leaned over her and helped her, wincing along with her until he had her in a comfortable position. Her look of gratitude was all the thanks he needed.

 

Simon walked away but quickly came back with a bowl of warm water and a washcloth. “Okay, shirt off.”

 

Becky raised her brows in challenge.

 

Simon sighed. “I have to see how bad the cuts are. And the bite mark.” He glared at the side of her neck, his lips tight, hands clenched around the bowl. Even with the enzyme changing her that scar would more than likely remain. Damn, he should have just gone ahead and killed the bitch. The fact that Livia had left a permanent mark on his mate had his Puma snarling again.

 

“I’m not taking my shirt off.” She almost crossed her arms over her chest but winced as the pain in her stomach stopped her.

 

“Oh yes you are, baby.” Simon put the bowl down on the table and perched on the edge of the chaise. “Those wounds need to be cleaned.”

 

“That’s what doctors are for, Oh Artiste.”

 

Simon grinned. With one swift move, he ripped her shirt open from neck to waist. “All duh…you didn’t wear a bra.” His tongue tripped all over the place. Becky’s beautiful breasts were bared to his delighted gaze. They were small, the nipples rosy pink. They perked up slightly in the cool air. He could feel his IQ drop by ten points just from staring at those beautiful nipples. He literally felt his thought processes grind to a halt as all of the blood rushed out of his head and pooled in his dick. If it wasn’t for the blood all over her stomach and shoulder he’d be having a much harder time not fucking her on the spot, and he was having a really hard time of that already.

 

Becky crossed her arms over her chest with an outraged squawk followed by a squeak of pain. “My shirt!”

 

“My shirt.” He gently tried to pry her arms off her chest, but she wasn’t letting him. He almost pouted over the fact that she’d covered her entirely edible breasts. Damn, he wanted a taste so badly his mouth watered. He realized they’d fit perfectly in his mouth and had to hold back a groan. His dick was beginning to press insistently against his black pants, the thin material doing nothing to hide it.

 

“Huh?”

 

He stared at her, scrambling to remember what they were talking about. Oh yeah. The shirt. “I paid for it.”

 

“What?”

 

He looked up from her breasts and frowned absently. “I picked out this outfit and paid for it, therefore it’s my shirt and I can rip it any time I want.” With a gentle hand Simon began cleaning the blood from her stomach, paying special attention to where Livia’s claws had dug in.

 

“I am so killing Emma, vows of eternal friendship or not.” Becky fumed, struggling briefly when Simon tried to move her arms out of his way again.

 

“I just want to see if she scratched you there.”

 

From the way she glared at him he was pretty sure she wasn’t buying his act. “Trust me, I didn’t get scratched there.”

 

“What about here?” He rubbed his fingertips gently over the top slope of her left breast.

 

Becky slapped his hand away. “Bad kitty!” When he reached for her again, she smacked him upside the head.

 

Simon grinned at her, loving her fire. “I can’t help it. It’s been so long since I’ve had a beautiful, half-naked woman on my couch.”

 

“Yeah, sure, that’s such a rare occurrence.” She rolled her eyes and scooted back from him with a groan. “This particular half-naked woman is off limits, buster.”

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Dana Marie Bell.

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