“Aye, lass. But were you planning on moving in with him?”

“We hadn’t really agreed on anything.”

Guthrie raised his brows this time.

“We were going on a two-week honeymoon, and then he had to go out of town on business. So I assumed we would stay at either my place or his until we got a place of our own.”

Setting his empty wineglass on the table, Guthrie let out his breath.

“What?” she asked, sounding exasperated with him.

“How could you agree to marry him without nailing down all the details?”

She shrugged. “I assumed we’d figure it out.”

She finished her wine and set her glass on the table. “What about you?”

“What about me? Do I want kids? Aye.”

She smiled.

Seeing her amused expression, he asked, “What’s that look for?”

“You’re good with kids. I can see you helping out at a children’s birthday party.”

“Not dressed as a clown, nay. Otherwise, aye, I could help. As to the finances, if you need help with investment tips, I’m all yours.” He meant for more than just investments. “So, did we cover all the topics?”

“Last night,” she began hesitantly, “you seemed upset, but today…”

“Today, I feel like you do. It’s time to move on. As long as you’re agreeable, lass.”

“But last night…” she said again.

“Julia made me appreciate some things about my past relationship with Tenell. And after I gave it considerable thought, I realized she was right. Once I came to the conclusion that it was truly time for me to move on, I knew I was ready. When I decide something as important as this, I don’t waste time.”

Just then she looked so sweet and kissable that he took her soft sweater-covered shoulders in his hands and began to kiss her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. Even though she had more clothes on than she did last night—jeans, a sweater, and boots, nothing like the slinky toga—she was just as seductively appealing.

He swore he wouldn’t go as far with her tonight. Not when they were in the initial courtship phase, but wolves didn’t usually take months to come to a decision. Aye, they mated for life, but if they really felt the heat between them, the compatibility of likes and dislikes about life in general, the sense of caring, protectiveness, and desire, they didn’t wait a year to mate. That made him think she’d had doubts about Baird all along, even if she’d denied them to herself.

There wasn’t any way that Guthrie could court the lass for a year without taking her for a mate well before that.

This…was exactly what Calla had been looking for in a wolf all her life. The heat, the fervor, the common interests, the need, and the mutual respect they had for each other, a wolf that was as close to being right for her—she thought—as he could be.

“Kids,” she said against his mouth.

He smiled against her lips.

She looked up at him.

“Aye,” he said and plunged his fingers through her hair as he tongued her mouth with hot, passionate enthusiasm—as if he intended to work on having kids with her right that very minute. Which had her smiling, though she had no intention of going that far this soon.

But when he lifted her sweater, pulled down her bra, and began suckling a breast, she was rethinking the waiting scenario.

He moved her onto her back on the sofa, his body between her legs, his mouth still enjoying her breast, his tongue doing wicked things to her nipple. She swept her hands up and under his shirt and sweater, feeling his back muscles exquisitely bunched for her tangible exploration. She loved the way his jeans-covered cock rubbed against her crotch, turning her on, making her wet and ready for him. The delightful smell of his raw, male wolf sex stirred her female scents to mingle with his. When he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, his green eyes darkened, his posture, expression, and the delightful smell of him telling her that he wanted so much more.

She was burning up for him, wanting him to ease the throbbing between her legs. He moved then and began to unbutton her pants and slide the zipper down. She so wanted to go all the way, but she said, “Just dating, not mating,” reminding him in case the way she was reacting to him, to this, was telling him another story.

“You’re killing me,” he said and pulled off her jeans in a hurry.

She caught the pained smile he gave her. She thought she could make him come at the same time as last time and rubbed his cock through his pants, but then he slid his hand down her panties. When he began stroking her and kissing her, she only managed to slide her hands down the back of his pants and cup his firm buttocks.

His fingers stroked her fervently, dipping into her wet sheath and then circling her nub again. She was powerless to resist him, to resist this deep-seated draw between them. She’d never felt this strong of a pull before. Putting on the brakes was killing her as much as it was him.

He was rubbing himself against her thigh, claiming her with his scent, even if he couldn’t plunge his cock into her and permanently mate with her yet. He kept up the strokes, the pressure, the heat, the urgency, until she was shouting his name in a passionate, totally unguarded way. Which she had never done in her whole life.

She thought to help him come, like they’d done last night, but instead, he stiffly reached for her pants and handed them to her as he leaned down for another, much sweeter kiss.

“What about—” she said, about to ask about his needs.