Page 42 of Welcome to Bone Town

“I really like you, Bear,” he whispers.

I tug him into my body and kiss his forehead. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes,Noah, I do.”

I bust out laughing. “Nice guess. But my name is definitely not Noah.”

He cracks a smile. “Wyatt?”

I shake my head. Using my grip on his hand, I spin him until his back hits the wall, intent on kissing him until he’s too breathless to guess my name. But his back doesn’t collide with the stone like I expect. The surface gives out, and we both stumble through a splintered doorway.

“Guess we found wood,” Archer says, looking at the pile of ancient planks. “It’s a miracle these haven’t completely rotted, especially with the humidity from the springs.”

As much as I like hearing Archer get all nerdy on me, I don’t want to talk about the preservation of old things, and the only wood I care about, right now, is his. What is it about life threatening situations that makes you want to fuck?

Trapping him against the doorframe, my hands come to rest on his hips. After all the excitement and exertion, his scent blockers are wearing off, and I finally catch the slightest hint of him. Green tea and raspberries.

For a brief moment, I'm brought back in time to my first kiss. She was my next-door neighbor and we snuck out after dark to meet by the raspberry bushes betweenour parent's farms. She tasted like the tart fruit we fed each other before we kissed.

Archer smells like secret, stolen treats.

Mine.

“Alpha?” He breathlessly asks when I pause for too long. His hands thread through my beard and give the tiniest tug. Fuck, that feels good.

“Yeah, I’m your alpha, baby, and I’m gonna make you feel so damn good. But first,” a low growl shakes through me, “I’m gonna punish you for putting yourself at risk and scaring the living daylights out of me.”

“Yes, alpha.” His pupils dilate.He likes that idea.

“Turn around,” I command, though there’s no bark to it. I want him to act of his own volition, not be coerced by any alpha power. “Hands on the doorframe.”

He spins and lifts his arms, gripping the sturdy wood with his back to me. He’s not as tall as I am, so he can barely reach, stretching his body long, putting himself on display.

After taking a moment to admire him, I run my hands over his sides and back, watching for any flinching or indication of bruising. I don’t want to push him if he’s too hurt from his fall. His only response is a shiver and a needy sigh.

He’s damn lucky he didn’t get injured. So am I.

Without warning, I slap my palm against his backside, then lean in close and whisper, “Red, if you want to stop. Yellow, if you need a breather. Green if you want more. Good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He tries to look over his shoulder at me, but his arm is in the way. “All green lights here.”

“That’s my man.” I nip his ear, sliding my hands down his chest from behind until I reach the clasp of his belt, holding there for a beat. “Still good?”

“Green,” he moans. “Take them off.”

Undoing his belt, I push his jeans down, taking his boxers with them. Then I step back to admire the view. I knew he had a nice ass, but seeing it stripped bare has my knot aching at the base of my already stiff cock.

Unable to resist, I crack my hand down on the round globe of his flesh. It jiggles from the contact before I rub the sting away. I do it again. Archer whimpers, swaying forward.

“I’ve never been spanked before,” he says.

I pause. “Still good?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Give me a color, baby.” I growl in his ear. He needs to know I’m serious about our play.

“Green. So, so green.” His reply is breathy.

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