The Mating Game

by Lana Ferguson

“It’s probably a nonissue. They are also incredibly rare.” A small, strange smile touches her lips. “But then again…you never know.”

I did not need to hear anything that would endear me to the grumpy innkeeper.

“Jesus. You smell…” His nose skirts along the length of my neck, his shuddering breath washing my skin, warming it. “Ripe.”

“I’m a cardiologist,” he says, “not a relationship guru.”

He flashes me an actual wolfish grin—something I’ve never heard of outside romance novels—yipping

“Fuck, look at you,” he grinds out. “You look so pretty riding me.” His hands curl around to grip my ass, pulling me down harder against his cock until I’m gasping for breath. “That’s it,” he croons. “That’s a good omega. Use me. Take what you need.”