Hot Licks

by Jennifer Dellerman

  Finding the proper key, Gwen fit it in the lock. Or tried to. She twisted the key, thinking it went the other way.

  Nope. Black brows furrowed, Gwen went through every key on her chain. None of them fit.

  “That’s odd.” Did the family change the lock?

  Or did someone else?

  A shiver of uneasiness slithered down her back to mix with the sweat. The dark blue t-shirt bearing Olivia’s Orchard emblem that all the rangers wore as part of the dress code along with jeans or khaki shorts and hiking boots, was sticking uncomfortably to her back. She pulled the strap of the shotgun off her shoulder, making sure to keep the muzzle pointed down. If whoever made those prints decided to come back, Gwen wanted to be ready.

  It was then she caught a flash out of the corner of her eye. An orange and black blur that snagged all her attention. The jaguar was back! Sprinting across the clearing, she fumbled to unhook the cell with one hand while keeping a tight grip on the gun with her other. She didn’t want it accidentally going off.

  Unfortunately, with all of her focus on the disappearing feline, she left her rear unguarded. A heavy weight, hard, large and hot, latched onto her back and suddenly the ground was rising for an intimate kiss.

  Chapter Two

  With one arm tightly wrapped around the waist of his prey, Rome Felix grasped the woman’s wrist with his other hand, dislodging the rifle and twisting in mid-air to land on his back. Giving the delectable female no time to move, he rolled over, letting the majority of his weight press along the length of her backside. Faster than a snap, he shackled her wrists above her head and pressed his face into the warm curve of her neck.

  His eyes practically crossed at the heady scents of heaven, sex, sin and sweetness tangled together to muddy the logical part of his brain. Rome didn’t think about how this spontaneous attack countered his usual slow, stealthy, analytical manner. He was not a clear thinking man at the moment, but a predatory male full of satisfaction and rising hunger at fleshing out that which had been driving him to madness since he first stepped foot back into his childhood home.

  The decision to leave the ATF and return to the house he’d grown up in had been surprisingly easy to make.

  Feeling stifled from all the travel and disillusioned by things he’d witnessed, Rome had come home, with only the expectation of finding peace and a rejuvenation of his spirit.

  Yet one deep breath past the front door and the barest hint of cinnamon and lime had alerted his jaguar to an unexpected and completely enticing presence. The fierce pull to hunt down the origin of that tantalizing scent had distracted him from his mother’s joyful hugs, his father’s exuberant delight at his return and the warm welcome from the two of his three brothers living on the estate.

  Rome had scanned each room he passed as he was all but dragged into the large kitchen to be fed as if he were some bedraggled cub, and that scent had drifted from every corner to tease him into a near frenzy. Then Porter had received a message on his cell phone and promptly hauled Rome out to the wildlife reserve the family owned.

  Outside, the scent had faded to almost nothing and his cat had lunged for freedom. Without the tight reign Rome held on his other half, he might have shifted right then and there and looped throughout the main house wrapped in nothing but three hundred pounds of fur and muscle.

  Which would have made all the unknowing humans scatter like rats. Amusing maybe, but not smart.

  As a cat shifter, Rome’s life was full of control verses instinct. Human intellect verses animalistic desires.

  Rationality and sensuality all bound together in one package. Normally, life as a shifter suited him. His senses were sharper than a human’s, serving him well both in the military and in the ATF. Both man and beast were logical, patient and stealthy, yet needed the soft touch and warm comfort of familiarity, which had been sorely lacking in his travels.

  Under the thick canopy of the forest, as he and Porter had raced down the trail at top speed, that enticing scent once again reached deep inside and fried his brain, providing him with a burst of supernatural speed. At the edge of the clearing he’d caught sight of a lone female, her back to him, and to his right, movement from deep within the trees. He might have been okay, except she began to run from him. Predatory instinct had kicked in, and, combined with the renewed hunger to touch and taste, well, he’d pounced.

  Now, with her soft body beneath his, Rome couldn’t resist trailing his lips along the graceful line of her neck, her taste only a flick of his tongue away. And since cats licked what appealed to them, Rome opened his mouth for a sample.

  “What the hell are you doing?” An indignant demand from the spitfire in his arms.

  The question made Rome hesitate and blink back the hazy fog of lust.

  Just what the hell was he doing?

  “I’d say my brother has lost his ever-loving mind.”

  Porter’s dry comment came from somewhere above Rome’s head.

  “Porter?” Gwen couldn’t see him, not with Rome’s larger mass covering her.

  “Yep. And the man flattening you in the dirt is my brother Rome. Bad dog.” Porter added on an incredulous chuckle. “You took down our damsel in distress.”

  “Could you tell him to get off me? I can’t breathe.”

  Rome squeezed his eyes shut and figured his little brother was right. He had lost his ever-loving mind.

  Gingerly, trying not to rub against her any more and reveal his thickening erection, Rome rolled off the female and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. Porter caught his gaze, the questioning amusement not something Rome was ready to answer. Instead, he flicked his eyes to Gwen as she flipped over and sat, drawing in gulps of air. Wary dark eyes, tilted slightly at the corners, narrowed as she stared at him.

  Rome did some staring of his own. In the span of a heartbeat, her features were branded in his mind. Long hair, blacker than midnight, was pulled back into a thick braid, leaving her square-shaped face unframed except for the few strands that slipped free. Dirt streaked along one cheek and over the front of her shirt, making him wince.

  Instead of taking the time to kick his own ass, he held out a hand.

  “I apologize,” he said, the gruff quality of his voice a reminder that his cat was near the surface, still eager for a nip. “I’m running on no sleep and, well, when I saw the gun in your hand I reacted instinctively.”

  He didn’t explain the instinct was at taking what he wanted before it escaped, or another took it from him. Even now he kept Porter in his peripheral vision, ready to swipe at him should he get too close to the female sitting on the ground. “Please.” He wiggled his fingers in invitation to take his outstretched hand, and to accept his apology.

  A stubborn chin with the most adorable little dent he wanted to lick rose as she considered his words. Gwen slanted her eyes to Porter who seemed to be struggling not to laugh.

  After some hesitation, Gwen laid her smaller hand in Rome’s. Once on her feet, she pulled free and took several steps back. Rome couldn’t blame her. He didn’t like it, but he understood a woman’s need for caution towards a man who’d quite literally jumped her.

  Great first impression, he grumbled at the cat prowling in his head. How am I supposed to fix this?

  Lick. Taste. Take. The jaguar responded.

  Like that’s going to help.

  “Here.” Porter handed Gwen her shotgun. “You have my permission to shoot him should he act like a raving idiot again.”

  Rome glared at his younger brother, the stupid grin on Porter’s face only making Rome feel more on edge.

  “I’m hoping that’s not necessary,” Gwen stated calmly, frowning at the dirt on her t-shirt. She attempted to clean herself off, making Rome bite back a groan when her hand brushed over her breasts.

  Spinning on his heels, Rome turned his back, struggling to get his body, and head, back under control.

  Never before had he such a visceral reaction to a woman.

  Right out of
the blue and bam. Like being hit by a mack truck. Or lightening. One second sane, the next, not so much.Keeping one ear tuned to the conversation behind him, Rome put his hands on his hips and took in several deep breaths, doing his best to concentrate on the scents of the forest rather than on the seductive perfume that Gwen radiated.

  A sub-vocal growl, so low that only those like Rome and Porter with sensitive hearing could perceive, reached his ears. The sound made Rome look up and to the far right, the direction Gwen had been running. There, high in one of the Sycamore trees and shadowed by the foliage as to be near invisible, lay a large, male jaguar. One that appeared to be extremely amused by the antics of the twolegged creatures below him.

  Santos. The ass. Rome’s jaw clenched as he realized where his older brother had disappeared to after welcoming Rome home. Out for a run. And right to Gwen.

  Rome’s hands tightened into fists as an unwelcome thought invaded his mind. Just what was his brother’s relationship with Gwen? It was dangerous enough for Santos to go out for a run while humans were in the reserve, and as cats stalked what they wanted to catch, did that mean Santos wanted to catch the female ranger?

  Possession, blinding and hot, swept over Rome.

  Vaguely, he felt his claws break the skin of his fingertips, his gums swell and burn as fangs threatened to descend. A growl rose in his throat, an aggressive reaction to the idea of another male having any interest in the darkhaired beauty.

  Whoa! What the hell?

  It was the sharpness of the unprecedented response that snapped him back into focus. Taking another minute to pull himself together, he buried the beast’s raw hunger under the calm professionalism he was known for and turned back to the arguing duo.

  “I know I told you to head back towards the gate,”

  Porter was frowning at Gwen.

  Gwen lifted her eyes to the heavens before replying.

  “You also told me to call James who was already on his way to me. Before I could say anything else, the call dropped. I decided to wait, otherwise he might wonder what happened to me and start searching.” She looked over at the cabin, her eyes widening as if she remembered something. They flew back to Porter, after a brief landing on Rome. It was the kind of look that didn’t make a man feel six feet tall and bullet proof. “Oh. Did you change the lock?”

  Porter flipped his thumb at the cabin door. “That lock?

  No. Why?”

  Gwen shrugged. “My key doesn’t work.”

  “Sure you tried the right one?” Rome interjected.

  The look she shot him was somewhere between irritation and distaste and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “I tried every key I had.”

  Porter held out his hand, his fingers waving.

  “Seriously?” Gwen asked.

  “What can I say? I’m male.” Porter’s grin split his face and Gwen rolled her eyes, handing him her set of keys.

  Porter and Gwen headed toward cabin door, but Rome hesitated, the scent of an approaching male hanging in the air. His lips curved as James appeared on the trial leading to the rock garden.

  “Rome, my man.” James smiled, his hazel eyes sparkling with surprised delight. “Heard you were coming back. It’s great to see you.”

  The welcoming handshake preceeded a manly hug.

  “And you.”

  “Dare I ask, here to stay this time?” James clapped Rome on the shoulder.

  “So it would seem.” Rome answered with a wry twist of his lips.

  “It’s for the best. We all worried about you.”

  Rome’s forehead wrinkled with bewilderment.

  “Whatever for?”

  “All that travel, all those cases. All the ugliness you dealt with on a daily basis.” James shrugged the powerful shoulders that made him a desired asset to professional football scouts, until he’d blown out a knee during his junior year of college.

  “Yeah, well.” Rome scrapped a hand over his chin, the thick stubble making him realize he hadn’t shaved since leaving Texas the day before. One of the perks of being unemployed. “I have to admit being shot at was getting old.”

  “You were shot?” Gwen’s question rang out, telling Rome she’d been listening to their conversation.

  He turned his head to see her staring at him, eyes wide. Next to her, Porter tried another key. “Couple of times.” His brother informed her pleasantly. “He’s slow like that.”

  Rome’s mouth firmed as Gwen’s eyes rounded even more. Great. No doubt her opinion of him reached a whole new low. His sarcastic thanks never made it past his lips.

  “What happened to you?” James wanted to know, staring at the dirt on the front of Gwen’s jeans and shirt.

  “Uh.” Gwen paused, flicking her gaze to Rome and back to James. “I tripped.”

  “You need to be more careful, honey.” James walked to Gwen and rubbed a finger over the dirt on her cheek.

  “You could have hurt yourself.”

  “She’s got my brother for that,” Rome heard Porter mutter under his breath just before he turned and asked James for his keys.

  “Sure. What’s going on? Gwen said something about footprints.”

  “Yeah. Which I’ll take at look at as soon as I get this door open. Damn. That’s just strange. When was the last time either of you unlocked this door?”

  Gwen looked from James to Porter. “About two weeks ago. Normally I just yank on the padlock. It’s not like anyone can scale the walls.”

  Porter made some noncommittal remark before turning to James. “You?”

  James considered the question. “A bit longer than that, and for the same reason. We’re not out in this area every day, and when we are, we just verify the lock’s secure and not been picked.”

  Porter shot Rome a hard look. “We’ll have to get a pair of bolt cutters.”

  Actually, either Porter or Rome could give the lock a good yank and pull it open. Just not in front of Gwen or James. Luckily, as habit would have it, Rome was prepared.

  Reaching down to snap open the small tool kit he kept on his belt, Rome said, “I can pick it.”

  One of Gwen’s dark brows quirked. “A skill you acquired with the ATF?”

  Ah, Rome thought. So at least she knew more about him then that he was a raving lunatic. Though a lock picker could be construed as a vice rather than a virtue. He had a lot of those either/or skills. Lips twitching, Rome glanced over at Gwen. “Marines. But it’s come in handy in many ways since I left.”

  Gwen appeared to digest his comment when Porter, at her side, said, “Show me these footprints while Rome works on the lock.”

  Seemingly reluctant to leave, it took Gwen several moments to take her eyes off Rome and lead Porter and James to the opposite side of the building.

  Rome found himself fascinated by the soft sway of her hips as she walked away. Hell. Let’s be honest. Everything about Gwen was churning all sorts of feelings in both man and cat. It was an attraction on the most primitive of levels.

  And while the man may have been confused, the cat was under no such uncertainty.

  Pursuing the roots of his oddly strong attraction to Gwen would be a most excellent way to welcome him home.

  Knowing his grin was dark and wicked with naughty delight, Rome wrapped his fingers around the padlock and pulled. With a metallic snap, the lock opened. Then he counted to ten.

  If there was one thing a feline shifter knew, it was patience. Now that the initial shock had passed, Rome could re-evaluate, plan, and hunt.

  And Rome always caught what he wanted.

  Chapter Three

  “It’s open.”

  Not having heard him approach, the sound of Rome’s voice from right behind her caused Gwen to jump a foot in the air. She pressed a hand to her racing heart. “Don’t do that.” She admonished him.

  “Sorry,” he replied, looking all but sorry, the selfsatisfied expression proclaiming his success – or amusement at scaring the crap out of her – backed by the padlock he twi
rled around one finger. This close she could see a faint scar that ran from the corner of his right brow and disappeared into his hairline. Hair that was a bit longer than in his pictures, though not as long as either of his brothers, gleamed a healthy deep brown so dark as to be nearly black. Gwen had the sudden urge to run her fingers through those strands to see if they were as soft as the pelt of a cat they mimicked.

  And his scent. She tried not to be obvious as she drew in a deep breath. Like fresh air, spice and oak moss.

  Liquid longing pulled low in her belly, the immediate arousal confounded her. . She didn’t know if she was transferring the naughty fantasies she’d had of the two-dimensional depiction of Rome onto the real one, or if she was truly sexually attracted to the flesh and blood man standing before her. She was hoping for the former, not only because the man was her boss’s son, but a fantasy crush was easier to quell than an actual one.

  Especially when she took into account the all too substantial feel of that thick hardness that had pressed against her ass when he’d pounced on her, because that sure hadn’t been the leather tool kit strapped to his belt. A rush of heat flooded her veins and sweat beaded on her brow at the memory. Yeah. She might be in trouble.

  She knew she was staring because she saw his nostrils flare as he did some sniffing of his own. Then those dark eyes went molten, as if he could somehow scent her arousal and instantly reacted to it like she was a dog in heat and he was on the hunt to mate. Tearing her eyes from the flames of hunger rising in his, she gulped and deliberately moved to other side of Porter and James who were crouched down next to one of the footprints.

  “So?” She asked Porter, doing her best to ignore both Rome and her body’s physical response to his presence.

  “What do you think?”

  Porter shrugged. “Someone ran across the clearing either in the rain or just after.” He turned his gaze to his brother. “Rome?”