Page 22 of Tender Wild

“Your turn.” His fingers were already grabbing at Miguel’s shirt.

“Need me that badly, cariño?” He kissed Jared neck, the man’s pulse fluttering against his mouth.

“Yes.”

Once the barrier of clothes disappeared, their skin met in a rush of heat. Miguel traced the contours of Jared’s collarbones, then lower, following the trail of goosebumps that appeared in his wake.

Each touch felt significant, like learning a language with his fingertips.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Miguel murmured, pressing his lips to the hollow of Jared’s throat.

A soft laugh escaped. “Says the guy built like every fantasy I’ve ever had.”

He didn’t even flinch at the scars covering Miguel’s body. No hint of disgust in his eyes, no attempt to suppress a cringe.

Jared wasn’t trying to hide any kind of reaction. It was as if Miguel’s scars weren’t even there. His kitten didn’t care. Didn’t judge. He just saw Miguel for the person he truly was instead of reducing him to the marks left by the accident.

Their mouths crashed together again, hungrier, more demanding. Jared twisted fully toward him, one hand curling around Miguel’s neck, pulling him closer. The angle was awkward, bodies half-turned on the couch until Miguel guided them down, easing Jared onto his back as their legs tangled together.

Miguel growled softly, one hand braced beside Jared’s head, the other gliding over bare skin. Their bodies aligned, chest to chest, hip to hip. The couch creaked beneath them, too narrow for two grown men, forcing them to fit together like puzzle pieces.

Something fierce and possessive surged through him—a wildness that had nothing to do with the physical act and everything to do with the man beneath him. His wolf paced faster, more agitated. Not with anger or aggression, but with recognition.

Mine.

The thought came unbidden, primal and absolute. His wolf howled inside him. The beast had chosen.

Miguel’s mouth trailed down his mate’s throat. Every point of contact between them burned like a brand—Jared’s fingers twisted in his hair, their legs tangled together. The need to taste more of him, to map the landscape of his body with lips and tongue, drove Miguel lower.

His teeth grazed Jared’s collarbone, drawing a hiss from above. Hands tightened in his hair, not guiding, just holding on while Miguel explored the terrain of his chest. The flat planes, the subtle ridges of muscle. All of it begged for attention.

“What are you—” His mate’s words cut off as Miguel’s tongue circled his nipple.

“Thought that was obvious,” Miguel murmured, tongue tracing lower. “Better than I imagined.”

Jared’s stomach muscles contracted under his mouth. “You’ve been imagining this?”

“Every night.” A confession breathed hot against skin. “Since the first night we met.”

His hands found Jared’s hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows there while he dragged his open mouth down the center line of his torso. Each kiss soft, each lick an exploration of new territory.

Miguel pressed his mouth to Jared’s stomach. The muscles contracted beneath his lips, a reflexive response to the heat of his tongue.

When he reached the waistband of his mate’s jeans, he paused, looking up through his lashes. Jared’s face was flushed, eyes wide and dark, lips parted. The sight struck something heavy in Miguel’s soul. “Unless you want me to stop?”

A flush spread across his chest. “God, no.”

Satisfaction curled through Miguel as he popped the button open, sliding the zipper down tooth by tooth. The sound filled the quiet room, punctuated only by their breathing and the distant rustling of Psycho wreaking havoc somewhere in the house.

“Lift,” Miguel commanded softly. He tugged the fabric over narrow hips, down lean thighs, raising goosebumps across newly exposed skin. The jeans caught briefly at his ankles before Miguel removed them completely, tossing them to the floor.

His gaze traveled over Jared’s body—athletic and lithe, all compact muscle beneath smooth skin.

“Fuck,” he murmured, taking in the sight before him—Jared stretched out on his couch, wearing nothing but boxer briefs.

“You planning on just looking?” Jared’s voice held a hint of nervous tension beneath the teasing.

Miguel’s laugh was low, almost predatory. “Appreciating the view.” His hands skimmed up his mate’s calves. “Patience, elegido.”

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