Insatiable Craving: 2 (Insatiable Nights) by Rosalie Stanton Page B

open her eyes to prove her point. The sandman had them officially glued for the night.
    “No,” Razor argued, an amused note in his voice. “You’re Sleepy Ginny.”
    “We’re the same. I want you to stay.”
    “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
    Ginny shook her head. “I’m just tired. Not drunk. I want you to stay. So we can talk tomorrow.”
    “And have sex.”
    “Well, duh.”
    There was a long pause and the air around her fell deathly still. Such to the point she began drifting again before a long sigh chased the silence. The floorboard creaked and the air around her head became cooler again, and just as sleep began crawling over her tired limbs again, the mattress dipped with weight. She felt the comforter drag away before foreign heat permeated from the other side of the bed. Warm hands were on her next, pulling her into an equally warm embrace. She lifted her head and quickly found her cheek pillowed under a hair-grazed chest, the gentle thumps of a heartbeat echoing in her ear as a steadfast lullaby.
    “This has been one strange day,” Razor said.
    “Mhmm.” Her leg shifted upward just enough to feel the heat from his thick erection against her knee. “Strange.”
    “Get some sleep.”
    “You too.”
    “You first.”
    “Okay.”
    It was a remarkably easy order to follow.

Chapter Seven
     
    Razor had fuck-all idea how he got himself in these messes, or what he might have said to otherwise get himself out. After leaving the club, he’d spent the drive over to Ginny’s pondering the wisdom of his decisions and mostly certain she’d be asleep when he arrived. Hell, he’d almost convinced himself a couple times to turn around, head home and get some sleep.
    Put some time and distance between himself and Ginny before whatever was between them heated up even more.
    Still, the part of him revved from the thought—the possibility—that Ginny might be his mate, that he might even have a mate, made him desperate to see her again. Touch her. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw her one more time. Things like doors, locks and the lateness of the hour were meaningless obstacles.
    Mate.
    It was a statistic impossibility. Even without knowing the hows and whys of wolven mating, Razor acknowledged the pure randomness that was a girl walking into a club and just happening to be the chosen one for said club’s resident werewolf. Or, fuck, being the whatever for said club’s resident werewolf. There was chemistry and then there was magnetic chemistry. Whatever they had transcended logic on all fronts, pulling him apart until the only way he knew how to be together was at her side.
    Perhaps Razor was better off leaving Ginny alone, but he doubted his most valiant effort would produce success. The choice to pursue whatever had brewed between them seemed a long time in the making—much longer than just today. Rather, everything that had occurred today felt like the natural result of weeks of shy glances and fervent fantasies. Even Aria had conceded she was at fault for shoving them together in the first place. Razor still didn’t know what Ginny had been looking for when she showed up at the club this morning, but he couldn’t begrudge what he’d found in the few hours they’d known each other, no matter the mind fuck caused in its wake.
    For the first time since Natalie, he felt some sort of peace. It was strange, yes, and most likely undeserved, but he felt it nonetheless. And while his wolf’s reentry into his everyday life was something he definitely wanted to extinguish as soon as he could, he’d kept himself closed off and hidden for too damn long.
    Ever since the night he was turned, Razor had consigned himself to a life of exile. He hadn’t known what that meant at the time. How could he? His family raised their children as hunters—those who picked off otherworldly creatures and earned their keep by selling trophies to the highest bidder. Becoming one of what he hunted had always