He was a difficult man. He knew himself very well. Shifters had to be in control at all times, especially the males. He lived for control, and he knew he was domineering. There had always been a part of him that feared a woman wouldn't be able to take his rough insistence on dominance. More, he was rough and he liked his sex that way. He certainly hadn't expected a woman who could take his kind of sex and give back the way she did.
He studied her face. Her beautiful, flawless face. Her long lashes and gorgeous eyes. Her perfect sinful mouth. It didn't seem possible that she could be his. He needed to take better care of her. Instead of letting his foul temper smolder for days, he should have recognized that she would be shy with him.
That hadn't really occurred to him either because she was completely uninhibited when they had sex. He knew he loved her. The terrible feeling inside him couldn't be anything but love. It ate him up and made him look at himself, really look at who and what he was. With her, he had to be better. He wanted to be better. She deserved better.
"I can't tell you how much you mean to me, Catarina," he said. He had to clear his throat when her gaze jumped to his and he nearly fell into her eyes. His voice growled, his emotions so strong, so intense he nearly shook with them.
She sat back on her heels, her eyes soft. Something else was there too and his belly knotted fast. She was definitely afraid of her feelings for him, but she had them. At least the beginnings of feelings, and he wanted to nurture that, make certain it grew.
He reached down and drew her gently to him, cuddling her in his lap. Her body was very warm, despite the cool evening. She fit. There on his lap. Wrapped in his arms. She fit. He caught up the bottle of water he had sitting by his coffee and handed it to her, nuzzling the top of her head.
"I've fallen in love with you." He stared over her head into the night as he made the confession. His heart twisted into knots. His blood surged through his body, a rush of adrenaline at the stark, raw admission he never thought he'd ever make to anyone. He felt as if he was baring his soul, and maybe he was. "I don't know how it happened, Kitten. I was so busy worrying about your leopard for my leopard, I suddenly found myself completely obsessed with you."
He could feel the change in her instantly. She went very still. She didn't pull away. Catarina stayed snuggled into him, a part of him, curled up like a little cat on his lap, but she didn't move a muscle, not even to bring the water to her mouth.
He tipped her head up to force her gaze to meet his. "It's true. I love you more than anything on this earth. It isn't about the leopards anymore. I don't give a damn about Rafe Cordeau or the DEA. For me, there never can be anyone else but you."
Her blue eyes searched his face for a long time. She looked close to tears.
"Baby, I'm not asking anything of you," he said softly. "I know you're not there yet. You still have no reason to trust me, but you committed to me a few nights ago. You gave yourself to me, put yourself back on the line, and not once in the last four days have you brought up the fact that I lied to you when we met. Not one time. You were true to your word and you're trying to put it behind us. Do you know how big a gift that is to me? What you gave me? Do you have any idea what giving that to me means to me?" She was the most unusual woman on earth. He couldn't imagine another woman forgiving him and putting herself in harm's way again, not like that. And not throwing it in his face at every opportunity.
He reached around her to take the cap off the bottle and hand it to her. "Drink. You have to be thirsty after all that. I intend to take the best care of you. The kind of care you give me, Cat. You make me feel loved whether you know it or not."
"I've never had anyone love me." She made the admission in a small, shaky voice and immediately took a drink. Her hand trembled as she held the bottle to her mouth so he steadied her hand for her with his own.
His heart turned over. Melted. "That isn't true."
"No. It is. It is true. My birth mother died having me. My father remarried when I was about two. He died a year later. I don't remember much about him and nothing about my birth mother. He left me with Tracy and for as long as I can remember, she did drugs and drank. She was the only mother I ever had, the only person I had growing up, but I was definitely in her way. And then she gave me to Rafe."
He brought his hand up to the nape of her neck, fingers working at her muscles there. "Tracy Benoit isn't your birth mother?" Why didn't anyone have that information? It wasn't in her file.
What he really wanted to know was her reaction to his admission--his confession. She looked a little shell-shocked. His Catarina could take him being rough and bossy and arrogant far easier than when he was loving and kind to her. Now he knew why. She'd never had loving and kind. She didn't know what to do with that.
Catarina shook her head. She was stunned. Shocked. Unable to process what Eli had just said to her. She heard the ring of truth in his voice. Her leopard might be quiet, but already her senses were stretching Cat's. Eli loved her. She wanted to wrap her arms around herself and hug that declaration to her. Instinctively she knew he wasn't a man to use the word love if he didn't mean it. Even meaning it, saying it would be difficult.
"I've never told a woman I loved her, because it wasn't true," Eli said. "Not even when I was undercover. I refused to ever take it that far. I knew if I ever got the chance to say it, I'd want it to be only for the one woman I really loved. Somehow it felt if I said it when it wasn't true, it would cheapen it for the woman I loved. So there it is, baby. It's you. Only you."
Her heart actually hurt, a physical pain. She couldn't say it back because she didn't honestly know what she felt. She was still afraid of him--of them. No, that wasn't the truth. She was afraid of herself. She didn't understand relationships and she was leery of committing her heart and soul too far. She'd just opened herself up to him when he'd betrayed her and that had hurt so bad. If she allowed herself to really feel everything for him, the way she wanted her relationship to be, that intense, that strong, and she lost him, she would be totally destroyed. She was too fragile.
"Thank you for telling me, Eli," she whispered. "I want us to work. I don't want our relationship to be just about our leopards or the sex." She didn't even know if that was the truth. Part of her wanted to keep it simple. The leopards. Sex. That wouldn't hurt so much if she lost it. But the biggest part of her wanted the fairy tale. She wanted what Eli was holding out to her. She just didn't know if she was brave enough to grab on with both hands.
"Let's get you inside before it gets any colder."
"I don't feel cold." She liked being snuggled so tight in his arms. It felt intimate.
"I know, but I still have a few things I'd like to do this evening and it's late. We have to work out tomorrow. I know I'm pushing you, Kitten, but if we're going to be ready for Cordeau, then it's necessary to condition and keep learning how to defend yourself. You still think of him as an invincible monster. I don't want you to freeze when the time comes. If self-defense is ingrained in you, if it's an automatic reflex, you'll have a chance to get away from him if he ever gets his hands on you."
A little shudder went through her body at the thought of Rafe finding her. Finding them. Rafe would want to kill Eli. She was beginning to believe killing Eli would prove to be much more difficult than she first thought. Living with him made it impossible not to see the danger that surrounded him. He was every bit as lethal as Rafe, only in a different way.
She had equated his gentleness with her as a weakness. She was learning Eli didn't have a weakness--unless it was her. He'd made himself vulnerable by telling her he loved her. She hadn't expected that and her eyes burned. There was a lump in her throat threatening to choke her at the sound of his soft voice whispering to her. Telling her things she knew he'd never told anyone else.
"I guess I do think of Rafe that way. He's so big in my mind. So scary. His word is law." She pulled away just enough to tip her head up and look at him. "Kind of the way you expect your word to be law."
> He grinned at her, getting that she was teasing him. "I like that you're not afraid to spar a little with me, baby," he said. "Everyone else is terrified to give me a hard time or argue with me. You're getting there."
"I wouldn't want you to think you're going to get your way in all things," she said. That wasn't entirely true. She wanted to make him happy. She didn't know why it was important to her, but she wanted to be the one that kept the soft look on his face.
His grin widened. "I'll get my way, Kitten. You can count on that. But I'll make certain you're enjoying yourself when I do."
She blushed. The heat inside her body seemed to grow until she thought her skin might be glowing. Or maybe she was glowing because he'd told her he loved her.
Eli laughed softly and stood up with her in his arms. She felt his muscles ripple but the move was fluid and effortless. He walked back inside without even breathing hard, as if her weight was nothing whatsoever to him. He carried her through the house, not turning on any lights, but then he rarely did at night. He had excellent night vision and she did as well.
Her heart began to pound when they entered the bedroom. There was something very purposeful in the way he walked. He tossed her onto the mattress, onto her back. She landed right in the middle, sprawled out. He stood over her, tall and broad-shouldered, his features a mask of sensuality. He took her breath away. She knew that expression. His eyes had gone to liquid gold, the gold spreading until it nearly covered the surface of his eyes.
"Put your hands above your head, baby," he instructed. "Grip the headboard for me." His voice had gone rough. Husky. Low. Commanding.
Instantly, heat flooded her body. Just his voice. That was all it took. Adding in his eyes and the way his body came alive, she was lost. She slowly complied, not taking her gaze from his face. She loved the way he looked, the implacable single-minded focus in his expression, the heat and lust building in his eyes. She recognized the third emotion--love--mixed with the hunger there. Her hands gripped the thick dowels above her head. She had to stretch her arms out all the way to comply.
"That's my woman. I love how you look right now. Open your legs wide for me. Are you already wet? Do you know what I need right now?"
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her heart began to pound. She felt the answering pulse in her hot, wet channel. "I'm already wet," she admitted.
He knelt between her legs and, still holding her gaze, slipped a finger into her. Instantly her greedy body grasped at him and tried to pull him deeper.
"I like that you get wet for me. So slick and hot. All that honey. I dream about the way you taste. Sometimes it wakes me up. I want to let you sleep. You're all curled up beside me like a sleepy kitten, and I hate to disturb you, but I can't go back to sleep thinking about devouring you. Sometimes I just want to eat you up, baby. Never stop. See how much honey I can harvest before you go up in flames."
Her nipples beaded. A small tremor sent a spasm through her channel. He pushed another finger into her, scissored them apart to stretch her. He did it casually, still watching her face, holding her gaze captive with his. A small burn as he stretched her sent heat spiraling through her sheath, rocking her. He was barely touching her and she thought he might make her explode.
Her hips undulated, pressed into his hand so that she tried to ride his fingers. He withdrew them immediately. "Lie still for me, baby. I'm going to eat you. Do to you just what I've wanted to do every night we've been in bed together."
His eyes burned her, they were so hot as they moved over her body. His face was a study in raw, masculine beauty. She loved his face, especially when he looked at her with such command, such stark sensuality. He was the epitome of sexy to her. His rough tone coupled with his explicit intent sent more honey and spice spilling from her body in anticipation. She tugged her lower lip between her teeth in an effort to keep her hips still for him, wanting his fingers back. Aching for his mouth.
"When I wake up needing my mouth on your breasts, between your legs, Kitten, do you know what I decided I was going to do about it from now on?"
She shook her head. She was trembling all over now. So hot. So needy, and he still hadn't even really touched her.
"I'm going to do whatever the hell I want to do," he said softly and gripped her hips in his hard hands.
The breath slammed out of her. She actually began to feel a little feverish. A little desperate for him. She wanted to plead with him to stop talking and get to it, but she knew that if she did, he'd make her wait longer, building that tension already coiling so tight in her body.
His hooded eyes moved over her then, his carved features stamped with possession. His hands followed his gaze, moving down from her shoulders to her breasts. She waited, holding her breath, needing him to suckle, to lavish attention, to tug and roll her nipples the way he did, but his palms just slipped over her curves and moved down her rib cage to her waist and then lower to her belly.
"I'd like to see that tattoo on you, baby," he said. "On the small of your back, but right here, I'd like a little ring so I could put a chain around your belly and play with it when I make love to you."
He was killing her. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to allow her legs to shift restlessly, or her hips to move. He was killing her with the soft brush of his fingers and his erotic images.
"Would you do that for me?"
"If you asked me to," she admitted. Because she'd do anything for him to make him happy. If that was really something that mattered to him, then it mattered to her. She didn't mind tattoos. In fact, she loved his. She'd never thought about piercings, but a small belly ring might be sexy.
"If I asked you to?" he repeated, his hands sliding lower to frame her mound and then slip lower still to sweep over her inner thighs. He frowned a little.
"I meant if I thought it mattered to you," she hastened to explain. It was difficult to think straight when her body was on fire. "I've never considered either, and I really like tattoos. I hadn't thought about a belly ring, but it might be nice."
"You'd do it for me if it mattered to me?"
His eyes were back on hers and her stomach did a crazy flip. She'd said the right thing, she could see how pleased he was. Her answer mattered to him whether she did it or not. She loved that she'd put that look in his eyes.
"Of course. I like doing things for you," she admitted.
His smile took her breath away. He stretched out on the bed, on his belly and put her legs over his shoulders. Her breath hitched again. He looked so sexy, his gaze focused now, this time on the junction between her legs. He looked hungry, like a predatory animal about to feast. The raw sensuality was carved deep into the lines of his face and there in his eyes.
Her body pulsed and throbbed and without any more encouragement than his focused stare, more hot spice slipped out. His hands stroked her thighs and her temperature rose until she felt as if the very blood in her veins had caught fire.
She closed her eyes when she felt his warm breath first. The smallest of things, yet her inner muscles reacted, pulsing with need. She felt as if time had stopped. She heard her heart beat. The clock ticking. The wind in the trees. He had to do something or she was going to die.
He made a single sound, low in his throat, like the snarl or growl of a leopard about to devour a meal it had caught. Her heart nearly exploded and she tightened her fists around the thick dowels to anchor herself.
His tongue slid through her hot, slick folds like a caress and her entire body jerked. A low cry escaped her throat before she could hold it back. His eyes jumped to her face, a golden, hot gaze that warned her not to move, not to disturb him, that he would go at his own pace.
Catarina forced her twisting body to still. To give him all the control. She realized in that moment he was already in control of her, but not so much of himself. He was truly one with his leopard, and he wanted his feast and was going to take it. The primal frenzy was on him and it only made her burn hotter for him.
Eli began licking her like a cat might lap a bowl of cream. His tongue rasped over and into her, sending her nearly spiraling out of control at the first touch. Electrical currents raced to her breasts like tiny bolts of lightning, making them sensitive and achy. Her stomach muscles coiled so tightly it hurt. She fought for air when her lungs burned, reminding her she had to breathe.
Eli's arm held her pinned down, his wide shoulders ensuring she was wide open to him. He kept licking up the honey spilling out of her body, a relentless unhurried pace, ever the cat enjoying his meal. He didn't change his rhythm, but she never knew where his tongue was going to swipe next. No matter how hard she tried, it was impossible to hold still. He kept the lower half of her body exactly where he wanted it, but her head thrashed wildly on the mattress and her knuckles turned white holding on for life to the headboard. Her muscles spasmed again, sending endless amounts of that hot spicy cream to his greedy mouth.
Her entire body nearly convulsed with pleasure. Strong, rippling waves started deep in her core and spread through her body, down her thighs and up her belly to her breasts. The moment the quake started, instead of backing off, Eli drew more spice out, catching the hot liquid on his tongue, pushing deep for more. His teeth raked her clit and she screamed, exploding a second time, right on the heels of the first.
Her body was so hot now, she couldn't stand it. Even with his mouth on her, his tongue wicked, never stopping, forcing another orgasm, his teeth and fingers and mouth so greedy she couldn't find a way to breathe, it still didn't stop the fire that began to spread through her like a wildfire.
Catarina's low, keening cry pierced through the chaos reigning in Eli's mind. He was lost in her body, in the sweet taste of her, in his need to own what he knew was his. In his greed for the treasure that was all his. Catarina wanted to please him and he needed to take full advantage.
His gaze jumped to her face. There was stark fear, nearly amounting to terror. Desperation. Hunger. Her eyes glowed, and he realized her body was scorching hot. Not just her feminine channel but her skin. All of her. His leopard shifted inside him, leapt toward the surface, snarling, raking with claws, roaring for domination. The animal went nearly insane with need, clawing for freedom, desperate and wild.
Cat's Lair Page 25