Ronnie closed the magazine and slid off the stool. She’d put on another pair of ratty cutoffs and a Coors Beer T-shirt. The woman really knew how to wear clothes most women wouldn’t be caught dead in.

A few steps and she stood in front of him. He looked into her beautiful eyes and didn’t see tears or even pain. She didn’t look hurt. More amused. But before he could figure that out, her fist slammed into his jaw, knocking his head to one side.

“Motherfuck—”

Leaning in close to his ear as he massaged his sore face and cursed up a blue streak, “Talk to me like that again and lose one of those lion balls you’re so proud of, hoss.” Her forehead brushed against his wounded jaw. “And now you’re going to have to convince me to stay. Think you got the balls to make me stay, Brendon Shaw?”

Without another word, she pushed past him and headed out of his kitchen. Maybe out of his life.

And there was no way in hell he was ever letting her go.

Typical shifter male. They handled stress in the worst ways. Especially when it involved their kin. Her daddy only got real crabby when he and Momma had a fight. Something about her pushed all his cranky buttons. Still, after a good fight, her brothers often had to drag Ronnie out of the house to a movie—or two—until they all felt it was safe enough to head back home.

Ronnie made it to the door before Shaw caught up with her. His big body stepped in front of her, blocking her way out of the apartment.

She barely stopped her smile in time.

“You gonna move?” she asked.

“Nope.”

Ronnie stepped away from him, claws unleashing. “This won’t be pretty, Shaw. I got in a little tussle with Sissy Mae tonight and I’m not my usual fun-loving self.”

“Kick your ass, did she?” he murmured, ignoring her annoyed growl and tossing his leather jacket aside. “Sorry I missed that. Especially if you guys were naked and there was oil or mud involved. Now come here.”

“Like I’d ever make it that easy.” She took several long steps back. “You want me, hoss, you better come and get me.”

Forgetting—again—lions had quite the leap in them, she almost didn’t move in time.

She took off across his living room, clearing furniture easily, and headed down the hallway. He made no sounds as he moved up on her, but the one thing Ronnie knew about lions—the females did most of the hunting. The males came in for the kill bite and to feed. Otherwise you could find their lazy asses sleeping in the shade while the females did all the work.

Shaw reached for her, and she ducked under him, heading back the other way.

“You little…”

She laughed, loving the chase. Needing their ridiculous frolicking to take her mind off everything else.

He caught upwith her, and she felt the air move as his arms swung for her. She dropped to her knees and Shaw tumbled right over her, landing with a painful thud. She stopped long enough to look him in the eye. He gazed at her, clearly stunned.

Licking her lips, she whispered, “Gotta be faster than that, pretty kitty.” Then she popped to her feet and jumped over him, heading down the opposite end of his ridiculously enormous apartment. His roar shook the walls, and Ronnie moved faster, knowing he was right behind her. Knowing he’d get her.

Ronnie charged into one of the unused bedrooms, slamming the door behind her. She’d made it into the bathroom when the bedroom door slammed open. She had a distinct feeling the man had kicked it off its hinges.

She went through the bathroom into the adjoining bedroom and out the door. Only Shaw hadn’t followed her, he’d backtracked to this door and she ran right into his arms.

He slammed her against the opposite wall, his mouth crushing hers while his hands kept her claws from tearing him apart. She fought him. No fake fighting either. She kicked and bit and knew she hurt him by his grunts of pain.

She tasted blood and she knew her fangs had scraped him hard.

Panting, he pulled away from her, gripped her tight around the waist, and stormed off down the hall. She thought he’d take her to his bedroom so he could have his dirty, disgusting way with her—at least that’s what she hoped for—but apparently the kitchen was closer.

He pushed through the swinging door, and the next thing Ronnie knew, he had her facedown over his kitchen counter.

A bloody lip, sore jaw, and a couple of bruised ribs. Seemed a small price to pay to have Ronnie Lee Reed bent over the island in the middle of his kitchen.

She still had her claws out and insisted on putting up a hell of a fight. Grinning, Brendon pushed his knee between her legs, forcing them apart and raising her a bit so she couldn’t get a clear shot at his nuts—again. He laid one hand flat against her back, keeping her pinned to the spot.

His free hand rubbed his throbbing jaw. “You’ve gotta hell of a right cross, sexy.”

“Thank ya kindly.”

“You were kind of rough on me, weren’t ya?”

She laughed even as her claws dug into the marble countertop, trying to pull herself out from under his hand. “Are you kidding? You had every one of those hits coming.”

“You’re right. I was a total asshole to you.” Brendon moved his hand so he could stretch out over her, resting against her back. She tensed beneath him.

“I’m sorry, Ronnie,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry I was an asshole.”

She held herself rigid for several long moments and he waited for her to start swinging.