Cougar's Mate

by Terry Spear

  He finally smiled and said, “If you have to think about it that much, you’re coming to bed with me.”

  And that decided it. Well sort of.

  “You’re not making a mistake with me, are you?” she asked.

  He shook his head, his arm around her waist as he walked her back to his bedroom. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. You’re not one of them.”

  It was different this time than the last time where he didn’t know who she was and now there were no secrets. And he still wanted her.

  “I’ll understand if you change your mind,” Shannon said practically. She was used to relationships ending badly. She didn’t want him to think she would make a big scene if he said he was tired of her and that this wasn’t working out for him.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked, pulling away the covers so she could climb into bed.

  She was surprised he wanted her to just join him in bed and not get naked first and have sex afterward. Maybe he was trying to show that he was okay with slowing things down a bit. She realized just how much she didn’t want to do that. She needed the intimacy, the loving, even if it wasn’t for the long term.

  She shrugged. “Dottie said you dated a couple of women but it didn’t work out. That you…”

  His brows arched and she was afraid she’d said too much.

  “That I what?” He still held the covers up and motioned for her to move over.

  She scooted over and he climbed into bed with her and pulled the covers over them. Then he caressed her arm with his hand and said, “What did she say?”

  “That you sort of became a recluse and didn’t date again.”

  “Which is true. But not with you.”

  “She said that also. That you would never have gone in the dressing room with another woman. That you had a reputation to uphold.”

  He smiled.

  “But, of course, I told her you had removed the handcuffs and had to keep an eye on me.”

  “I was afraid you’d run off.”

  “That’s what I told her. She said if I was some other woman, you would have had Millicent come inside with me and you would have stayed outside the room.”

  Again, he smiled.

  “Well? Would you have?”

  “No other woman has ever knocked me out and escaped from me. That makes you a special case in my book.”

  She smiled and then she was serious again. “I don’t want you to think you’re stuck with me. I mean, the other women had places to go once you decided it wasn’t going to work out between you. And if we ever resolve this mess with Hennessey and his family—“

  “I don’t want you to go anywhere, but stay here with me,” Chase said, and leaned down and kissed her forehead.

  “But if things work out for me that I don’t have to worry about the Kellys any longer and you’re tired of…”

  “I will still want you here. With me. At my cabin. In my bed.”

  There was no denying she wanted that, too. Not the way her scent was telling him she eagerly wanted his touches. Her heartbeat had already kicked up the pace, and her breathing was becoming ragged, anticipation building.

  And then he began to kiss her, not as wildly or as passionately as last night when they felt like they had to kiss or die from the need. He was gentle as if he was afraid she’d change her mind about them. Or that he wanted to show he really cared about her and this wasn’t all about having some mind-blowing sex. She had to admit she enjoyed this with him just as much.

  The room was cool now, but with his touching her, he was making her hot and they quickly tossed the comforter aside. He slid his hand up her T-shirt and cupped a breast, his mouth kissing hers, his tongue slipping between her lips and tasting her as she sucked on his tongue, which was warm, wet, and wild. She slid her hands beneath his boxer’s waistband and cupped his hard ass.

  He groaned a little with frustration.

  She smiled. But then he pulled off her sweatpants and tossed them to the floor. He moved her thighs apart, and his hand cupped her mound through the silky panties, his heated gaze studying her face, his oh-so-kissable mouth slowly rising at the corners. She felt the dampness of the fabric press in between her feminine folds as he moved his finger so that he could stroke her through the panties.

  Every touch was sending her hurtling toward that point of no-return, everything else seemed to be suspended in time. He continued to stroke her core, and she arched up against his fingers, wanting more, wanting the fabric barrier between them gone. Then he slid his fingers down her panties and the contact of his warm flesh against hers sent a jolt straight through her.

  He leaned down to claim her mouth again—her hands cupping his face now, angling for a better kiss, deeper, penetrating. How she loved this and wished it would never end. That she had lived here always and could erase her past with one broad-headed eraser. That this could have been her past, her present, and her future.

  She reminded herself that she was with him now, enjoying him the best she could, and that only this minute, here and now mattered.

  She kissed him for all she was worth, wanting to show him how much she wanted and needed this—him—just like this.

  He must have sensed her quiet desperation, as he pulled his lips away from hers for a moment and gazed into her eyes. His were darkened with lust. Hers were blurred with a faint shimmer of tears, but she wouldn’t… couldn’t let him stop what he was doing to her. She tugged him down in a way that said for him to get on with pleasuring her because he was dead meat if he didn’t.

  He kissed her then, a little unsurely as if he was afraid to upset her, but she was aggressive right back, telling him in no uncertain terms that she wanted this now, and the only way to truly upset her was to give up on her.

  Her aggressive kisses, biting softly on his mouth, and sucking at his tongue encouraged him to mirror her assertiveness. And she loved it. Sweet and gentle could be for some other time, or never—because she didn’t have forever with him.

  Then she was pulling down his boxers, and he was back to stroking her harder, his fingers slipping inside her folds, deeper, and she ground out, “Chase.”

  Arching into his fingers, she felt the sweet, spicy hit of the climax as it worked its way up her body, and she basked in the warmth and satisfaction of what his touching did to her. His expression subtly changed as he hurried to ditch his boxers, and then her panties—to one of concentration and determination to have her, to claim her.

  She thought he would pull off the T-shirt she was wearing with the bold words stamped across it: Cougar Power, featuring a beautiful golden cougar in the middle of it, watching the viewer with her golden eyes, ears perked. But he didn’t. He just moved Shannon’s legs wider, ran his hand up her shirt to massage a breast, then pressed the head of his cock between her folds and pushed deep.

  Chase hoped making love to Shannon would help to convince her to stay with him. He was certain she was teetering on staying or running. When she showed just how much she wanted him now, he wasn’t about to stop, though the shimmer of tears in her eyes had given him pause. But the expression on her face was one of either you do this or she would kill him.

  Which had made him smile a bit. Her volatility from being one way and then another, her enthusiasm, bordering on wildness, definitely her hotness, made him hard with wanting her.

  He thought to remove her T-shirt, but decided against it. He loved the image—her naked and bared to him from the waist down, the cougar imprinted on her shirt challenging him with her eyes as if it was a picture of the cougar splayed out beneath him, and he knew the words imprinted on the shirt were true. This cougar shifter had all the power over him. And he loved it.

  Only he wished he knew how to make her stay with him for the long run.

  He inhaled in her scent—the wildness, the cougar, and the woman, who had bathed in the rose mint scent, spicy and sweet—that made his cock swell to full attention.

  He buried himself to the hilt
in her warm, wet sheath and captured her mouth for another long and lingering kiss. Desperately, he wanted her to know how deeply he felt about her, not as a quick sex-fest and he was done with her, but like he wanted to make a lasting impression. Like he wanted to show her how much he cared.

  And then he was pulling out and working into her again, as she kissed him just as passionately, her fingernails lightly scratching his back like a big cat’s claws in play, gently, not drawing blood. Her golden eyes were open, watching him, her fingers trailing down to his buttocks and squeezing. And then she wrapped her legs around his hips, and he dove even deeper, loving this, loving her.

  He wanted to tell her how much he wanted her to stay, but he was afraid it would push her away—as if this was the only bit of pleasure she’d allow herself, and that she couldn’t commit to anything further. Nothing permanent.

  He realized how much he was at odds with the notion and slipped his tongue between her lips. Her hands moved up to his waist, clutching as she rolled her hips a little, making him groan into her mouth. Wild cat was all he could think of as he spilled his seed deep inside her, continued to thrust, to finish what he had begun, when she arched her back and closed her eyes and cried out.

  “Ah,” he growled, sinking against her briefly before he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. He wanted to keep her pinned down beneath him, unable to squirm her way out from under him, and out of his grasp. He was reminded of the day when he’d had to handcuff her, and she’d rocked against him, trying to unseat him, how much her actions had stirred his blood even back then.

  But he wanted the shared feelings of mutual respect, that she wanted to be with him and not that he was forcing it on her. Though he would do anything he could to convince her how staying with him was the only option left to her. Not only the best option, but that she truly wanted to be with him.

  He let out a frustrated sigh, vowing to enjoy each and every moment with her for as long as they had. But he wanted her to know that he wasn’t about to think in terms of her leaving, but in terms of her staying. “Next time, I want to see you in that little pink nightie you bought at Millicent’s shop that had all the women who saw it already speculating about us.”

  Shannon smiled.

  Chapter 12

  For two and a half weeks, Chase and Shannon gone to all kinds of social gatherings to family’s homes for dinners, movies, tea parties, just anything anyone could think of to keep them busy and for Shannon to practically meet everyone who lived there.

  So when Chase told her they were staying home for the day so he could get some work done on the cabins, Shannon was secretly thrilled. She knew that all the invitations were a way for the other shifters to reach out to her and let her know they cared about her and wanted to form friendships. And she truly loved them for it. She had to admit, it was the reason she had put off leaving for so long. Although, that was only part of it. Most of it had all to do with Chase. Despite her saying no to him getting her anything else, he had gone out of his way to buy more clothes for her so she felt like she wouldn’t have to wash clothes constantly, and she had some choice in what she wore. And because he kept taking her out to see people.

  She knew when she left he would not be happy, just like her leaving him behind would make her despair for him.

  She was straightening up the kitchen after they’d had pizza last night and had gotten a little frisky while watching one of Dottie’s romance movies, Chase telling her the hero was so lame and Shannon challenging him to prove to her what the hero should really be like.

  That had led to wild sex on the couch, forget the movie. Then he’d turned it off, and tossed her over his shoulder, carried her to bed and he showed her again what a romantic hero was all about, which had her laughing and loving him all the more. But they’d left a mess of everything that she was now cleaning up.

  This morning was the first time since Chase had come into her life that he was up later than she was.

  She guessed her waking him to make love to her a couple of more times during the night had worn the poor guy out. She smiled at the notion when he joined her in the kitchen all dressed—jeans, a shirt, and boots. She greeted him with a plate of hot French toast and a kiss. She sure could get used to this.

  “You said you were going to paint this morning. Can I help?” she asked, wanting to do something more than be a fixture around the place.

  They took their seats at the table. Chase poured maple syrup on his French toast.

  “Sure. Do you really want to?”

  “I’d like to feel like I’m being useful around here. I’ve painted some… well, it’s been a long time ago. Maybe when I was five and I used my hands and not a brush.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t say enough how much I enjoy your company. You don’t have to do anything, but wake me up at night to keep me on my toes.”

  She smiled. “I’ve… I’ve enjoyed being here with you, too. I still want to help.”

  “Sounds good to me. I checked last night on the supplies and we have just enough to paint the living room. Are you ready?”

  “Sure am.”

  She was wearing the gray sweats, figuring they were perfect for painting since she didn’t care for the color anyway, in case she dripped a little paint on them.

  They headed to the cabin furthest from Chase’s, and once inside, they first moved the furniture out of the way, then taped, and laid down plastic to protect the wood floors. That took about an hour, but with the two of them working well as a team, that had probably saved them a lot of time. Chase began rolling paint on the walls while she was doing the detail work, the corners and edgings. He had brought over some wild music to play while they were working, and she had to pause to observe him dancing to the beat.

  She chuckled and he smiled. “Painting has never been this much fun before, I have to admit,” he said, turning back to face the wall and rolled another layer of paint over it.

  “You make it fun,” she said. She filled up her tray with more paint and was just crouching down to paint along the baseboard when a mouse scurried across the plastic and she fell back, annoyed with herself for her reaction to seeing a mouse. She was a cat, for heaven’s sake! A big cat.

  But she tipped the tray of paint she was holding and spilled some of it on her sweatshirt and pants. Trying to avoid getting it all over herself, she tried to stand and stepped back and realized too late that the object behind her that she had bumped into was the can of paint.

  Normally she could react quickly, but with the tray of paint in her hand, the paintbrush in the other, and being off balance, she knew there was only one way this was going. Her falling, knocking over the can of eggshell white paint, making a mess, and creating a total disaster.

  Between the beat of the music and Chase working on the wall behind her with his back to her, he didn’t see the catastrophe going down. Not that he could have done anything to prevent it, rescue her, or save the paint.

  All she could think of as the paint poured out of the can and she was sitting in a puddle of it, soaking it up with her sweats, he would never want her helping him to paint again.

  As quickly as she could, she jerked the overturned can of paint right side up, but the damage was already done. She was just glad they’d covered most of the floor with plastic and all of the paint was either on her or on the plastic. She looked over to see if Chase had even noticed.

  He was still shaking his booty to the music and rolling the paint on the wall.

  She smiled, shook her head, and sighed. “I hate to tell you this, Chase, but I think we might need another can of paint.”

  “There should be plenty enough in that can to cover the walls,” he said, glancing at her. For a second, he just took in the sight of her sitting there, covered in white paint, a mess of it on the plastic, and of course, there wasn’t any sign of the mouse so she couldn’t even point to him as the culprit.

  Not that she’d really want to, either. A big cat shouldn’t get spooked
by a little mouse.

  Then Chase burst out laughing. That made her smile. She was glad he wasn’t mad at her.

  He joined her and peered into the can of paint. “You’re right. We’re going to need some more paint.”

  “I’ve got to get cleaned up. I’m soaked through to my panties and bra.”

  He was still chuckling. “Sorry, I can’t help it. You are so cute. Okay, can you manage to get back to the cabin and get washed up on your own? I’ll clean this up and run into town for some more paint. If you still want to help me finish the job, you can join me then.”

  “You still want me to?” she asked skeptically.

  He laughed. “Yeah, I do. I hate doing the detail work and you’ve made a great start on it. Maybe I should get two cans of paint, just to be sure we have enough.”

  “You have mice,” she said, as he helped her to stand.

  He started chuckling again. “You saw a mouse.”

  She rolled her eyes and headed out the door. She stalked back to his cabin, and when she got there, she stripped off all her clothes, and wiped up most of the excess paint that had seeped through to her skin with the unpainted part of her sweatshirt, then dumped it with the rest of her clothes on the grass. She’d have to wash them out as soon as she took a shower. She didn’t envy Chase having to clean up her mess at the other cabin.

  But she was glad that he was so good-natured about it.

  When she reached the bathroom, she saw she even had splatters of paint on her face and in her hair. She groaned, started the shower, climbed in, and began to soap up.

  “I’ll be right back,” Chase hollered to her. “If you need anything…”

  “No. Thanks. I’ve got to wash my clothes out next, and we can finish painting when you get back.”

  “Okay, take me no more than half an hour or so.”

  “See you shortly,” she called out, and then she relaxed and enjoyed the shower. She didn’t look forward to cleaning her sweats. What a mess.