Page 115 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

“Guess management likes me more than they like you.”

“Perfectly understandable. You’re very likable.” He rested his forehead against mine. “You saved my godsdamned life.”

“You mentioned that.”

“It’s a big deal. Pretty sure I’m going to continue mentioning it from now until forever. I owe you that much.”

“Unnecessary. I heard you the first time.” I squinted up at him. “Wait a minute … are you trying to weasel out of paying my taco tab?”

“Depends. How much are we talking, exactly? Four figures? Five?”

“Can we really put a price on heroism?” I asked.

“Definitely not five and probably not four.” He tapped his chin. “No way they’d allow you to rack it up that high. Those bobcats are shrewd. Howdidyou manage to get them to give you a tab?”

“I did a favor for one of the owners a few years ago. One of their cooks got himself hexed by an ex-boyfriend. I took care of it.”

“Figured it was something like that,” he said. “So, how much then?”

“My bill’s in the low two figures, but I can and will drive that sucker up once I know you’re paying. I’ll fill up my bathtub with tacos—no, a jacuzzi. I’ll float naked on a swimming pool of tacos de papa—salsa on the side, because, well, naked.”

“You say the sexiest things.”

The song “Suddenly” faded into “Fooled Around and Fell in Love” by Elvin Bishop.

“You brought the kitchen radio into my bedroom,” I said.

“Noticed that, did you?”

“As if I wouldn’t.”

“Like it?” He kissed me again, this time brushing his lips over my chin.

“The music or the kissing?”

“Both.”

“Yes, and yes. Except you keep missing my mouth,” I said.

“Just taking it slow.”

“Don’t you think we’ve done that enough? We took it so slow we almost missed our opportunity. We’re due for a sexual hastening.”

“Good point.” He yanked back the covers and pulled me into his arms. “You’re really okay?”

“Yes,” I said. “Why do you keep asking that?”

“You were crying in your sleep just now.” He touched the tip of his finger to my eyelash and held up a tear.

Crying? What had I been dreaming about?

Old memories, maybe? New horrors? A little of both?

“I’m not feeling sad now.” I slid my hands up his chest and around his neck. He was shirtless, and my fingertips traced the muscles in his shoulders and upper back. As he moved they moved—flex, release, flex…

He slid his fingertips up my thighs and under the sleep shirt, dancing up my hip. I immediately shimmied out of it and chucked it across the room.

Ronan laughed, low and growly. “Betty, stop playing so hard to get. It’s off-putting.”

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