Tempt Not the Cat

by J. C. Wilder

  She leaned into him, running her hands over the wide expanse of his chest. The plain white T-shirt clung to his muscular frame and showcased his amazing pectorals. She wanted it off now. Her tongue dueled with his as her hands went south. She pressed her breasts against his warmth as his big hands cupped her buttocks and gently squeezed.

  Her fingers located the buttons on his fly and she managed to get one undone before his hand reached up and cupped her breast. His thumb brushed the hardened tip before returning for a slow sensual caress.

  Erihn nipped at his lower lip as she abandoned his buttons to cup his expanding erection. Beneath her questing fingers, he grew. Erihn broke the kiss and pulled back to watch the process with great fascination. Under her ministrations, his jeans grew tighter as he lengthened and thickened.

  “Fascinating,” she whispered.

  “Glad you’re impressed.” He sounded amused. “How long do you intend to keep that up?”

  “How long can you keep it up?” Erihn laughed.

  “As long as it takes,” he purred.

  Erihn blushed and averted her gaze. “I want to take your shirt off.” She closed her eyes as she felt him pulse beneath her. She could feel his heartbeat through her palm.

  “That isn’t my shirt.”

  She opened her eyes and met his heated gaze. “I got distracted.” She drew her hand away. “Take off your shirt.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Take off your panties.”

  She licked her lips and his gaze flicked to her tongue. A shiver went through her as she got to her feet, giving a little shimmy in his lap, eliciting a stifled moan from him. She smiled. “You first.”

  Erihn stepped away and Fayne rose to his feet. He towered over her as he undid his jeans, his gaze never leaving her face. She held her breath when he gripped the bottom of the shirt and drew it up, revealing taut golden skin and rippling muscles and his wicked thorn tattoo. With a flick, he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly onto the table.

  She reached for him, her fingertips brushing his stomach before he captured her wrist. Startled, she met his gaze.

  He smiled. “Not until you keep your end of the bargain.” He pressed a kiss to her palm then released her.

  Erihn cocked a brow at him. He wanted her panties off, did he? She drew off her black cardigan, revealing a slim spaghetti strap dress in dark amber. She fisted the soft material on each thigh and slowly raised the hem, revealing her legs.

  His gaze was rapt as he watched her reveal each inch. His breathing deepened and she could scarcely contain herself as he licked his lips. She halted mid-thigh and snaked a hand beneath her skirt and tugged her panties down without revealing herself to him. She laughed as they dropped to the floor, and she released the material of her skirt.

  “You’re a cheater,” he accused.

  “You never said how I had to take them off,” she pointed out.

  “Humph, we’ll see about that.”

  Before Erihn could move to safety, Fayne dropped to his knees before her and captured the backs of her thighs. She shrieked as his mouth covered her through the thin cotton. She put her hands on his head to retain her balance as heat flowed through her limbs. She shuddered as her arousal dampened the cotton along with his mouth.

  “Fayne,” she hissed, her knees wobbling.

  He stopped. Releasing her thighs, he grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up as he arose. She reached for his fly, her hand curling around him when his lips came down on hers. She opened beneath him, taking him deep inside her mouth. She suckled his tongue as she stroked him, heat racing through her blood as he clasped her hips and he thrust gently against her palm.

  His arms slid around her waist and he led her back to the dining room chair. She released him reluctantly and he sat down and pulled her spread-eagled into his lap. Erihn sighed as he stretched and filled her. Her eyes closed as sensation pooled between her thighs. He rocked against her as she cried out his name.

  “Oh my…” she breathed. She licked her lips. “If I had this…” She braced her feet on the floor and lifted herself, making him moan. “I’d never leave the house.”

  Fayne’s hand skimmed her shoulders and brushed the straps of her dress down to bare her breasts. “And, if I had these, I’d never leave the couch.”

  Her breath left her in a rush as his lips brushed her nipple before opening and taking her inside. She twined her fingers in his hair and began moving against him in earnest. Need spiraled higher and higher until reality was only a pinpoint of light on the horizon of her mind. Strong hands stroked her, guiding her hips as she trembled against him, her release so near and yet so far.

  “Fayne,” she panted. “Please.”

  “Shhh, baby.” He kissed her throat. “I’ll take care of you.”

  She clung to his shoulders as he slipped a hand low between their bodies. Unerringly, he found her little nub of pleasure and, within seconds, she took her release. Sparks flashed behind her eyelids as rapture sang through her veins. Against her, Fayne stiffened as she stroked him into his own orgasm.

  Afterward, she sagged against his chest, luxuriating in the feeling of his arms around her. Nothing had ever felt so right.

  * * * * *

  Edward smiled as his servant, Miles, ushered Ivan Daniels into the room.

  His secluded condominium at the Christiania resort assured him maximum privacy and ultimate comfort while he carried out his conference with Mr. Daniels. His gaze flicked over the diminutive man, assessing his neat blue suit and freshly scrubbed appearance. He was of little value to Edward personally, but he had the power to deliver what Edward needed with a minimum of fuss. He had every intention of using him to the fullest.

  “Mr. Edwards, my name is Ivan Daniels, and I understand you have a proposition for me?” Ivan held his hand out as if to shake with him.

  Edward ignored the overture. He preferred not to touch mortals unless they provided his dinner. He glanced at Miles and nodded to indicate it was okay to leave them alone.

  Edward didn’t miss Ivan’s worried glance at the door as it closed. When Ivan looked back, Edward indicated he should sit in one of the two armchairs arranged before the fireplace.

  After Ivan seated himself, Edward took the remaining chair for himself. He picked up a large white tablet of paper and a fountain pen then wrote in large block letters, I know why you’re here.

  Ivan frowned when Edward held up the tablet for him to read. He shook his head. “You must be mistaken.”

  Edward noted the sweat on Ivan’s pasty skin. He wrote, The Spencer woman. I can lead you right to her.

  Ivan’s eyes widened as he read the words, and he licked his lips nervously. “How did you find out?” he whispered.

  I have my ways. I’ll hand her into your care if—and only if—you do something for me.

  Ivan frowned then nodded cautiously. “Go on.”

  She has in her possession a book, a diary. I want it back.

  Ivan looked relieved. “Just a book?”

  Not just any book, I want the diary.

  “How do I get it away from her?”

  I don’t care how you get it, just bring me the book. He kicked a small leather satchel in Ivan’s direction. Your reward once you’ve delivered it.

  Ivan bent and unzipped the satchel. His eyes went wide at the amount of money neatly stacked inside. “Oh my…”

  There’s something else.

  “I don’t have to hurt her, do I?” Ivan whispered.

  She is staying with a man who kidnapped my son. I want to know where my son is.

  Ivan’s eyes grew wide. “Do you think Erihn had anything to do with this?”

  Possibly. I have no doubt she knows where my child is hidden.

  Ivan nodded. “I can believe Ms. Spencer is involved in something as unsavory as a kidnapping. She’s a poor moral influence on her readers.”

  Edward smiled inwardly when the man launched into a long-winded recitation of Erihn’s supposed
crimes. Mortals. What malleable fools they were. Soon he’d have both the diary and Max in his possession. Mikhail would be quite pleased with his work and, surely, he’d deserve a boon from his old friend.

  A very special boon.

  Once he took care of Fayne, everything would be back on track and his world would be as it should. Even now, he could feel Max coming closer to Colorado and Edward could almost taste victory.

  Chapter Nine

  Fayne caught himself humming as he walked into the basement guestroom, intent on finding clean clothes. He looked into the closet and saw only a few empty hangers dangling there. He glanced at his overflowing clothesbasket. It looked like he’d have to do laundry, not to mention wash the sheets he’d dirtied yesterday.

  After retrieving clean linens from the closet, he efficiently stripped and remade the bed. Catching sight of Erihn’s book on the nightstand, he tossed the pillows toward the head of the bed. A wicked grin curved his lips as he abandoned his domestic duties in favor of reading. Flopping down on the unmade bed, he thought maybe it was time to see what Erihn did for a living. After all, if they were going to continue this relationship after he dealt with Edward, then maybe he needed to know exactly how she made her living. He grinned. Maybe he could help her with research.

  His cock stirred to life at the thought of Erihn, warm and soft in the bed two floors above him.

  “Down, boy,” he muttered. He looked at the cover of the book. Black with gold embossed print. He grinned when he read the title. “Velvet Lover. I like it all ready.”

  He flipped the book over and read the back cover copy.

  Sharon Walls has received an unexpected gift.

  When her best friend conducted a bachelor auction for a local charity, it never occurred to her to buy a man for the evening. It was barbaric! When Bettina presents her with a man of her very own for her thirty-fifth birthday, Sharon finds that, instead of being an average everyday kind of guy, she discovers a man with mysterious power over animals and a strange magnetic pull of her senses.

  Brand Slayton is no ordinary man.

  He is a breed of being known among the preternatural underground as a were-cat. A mysterious…

  Fayne stopped, his jaw dropped. Were-cat? He scanned the text again. She had written a romance novel about his line?

  He flipped the book over and stared hard at the cover. What were the ramifications of this? It was possible she’d dreamed up the entire were-cat concept. It wouldn’t be completely unheard of, as werewolves were common in preternatural myth. It was also entirely possible that other breeds of animals such as himself could exist, not that he’d ever heard of any other than werewolves. His lip curled. What an unruly bunch they were.

  He stared at the paperback in his hands and resisted the urge to hurl it against the wall. How could she have done this? Where did she get the information? Forcing himself to remain calm, he opened to the first page and began to read.

  * * * * *

  Fayne’s stomach rolled when he exited the basement several hours later, her book clenched in one hand. Erihn had been gone for over an hour. He was alone, and he was on a mission.

  Her briefcase sat by the coffee table where she’d left it. Ignoring the voices in his head that were telling him he was being unreasonable, he dumped the contents on the floor. Dropping to his knees, he began to sift through the items. He glanced at the book titles before tossing them aside, opting to concentrate on the notebook and the handwritten notes.

  Opening the notebook, he scanned the contents, most of which were vague story ideas. He skipped through the pages until he came to the character notes.

  …were-cat around 30…very animal, almost wild…amazing sexual powers, the ability to sustain multiple orgasms…turns into a cat at night to build upon his powers…ability to see well at night…rides a motorcycle and wears a leather jacket…has a son whom he has “adopted”…

  Fayne snarled.

  No one would use his son as fodder for a book.

  No one.

  He glanced around, looking for the wooden box and the mysterious book she’d kept inside. It wasn’t here. He frowned. Maybe she’d taken it with her? Why would she take the book with her unless she feared he’d find it? Right now, she had no reason to think he’d caught on to her game.

  She was in for a rude awakening.

  He shoved the books back into the case and picked up the notebook. He was a fool. Rage erupted from his chest in the form of a wild snarl as he rose to his feet and stalked out onto the deck. The brilliant sunshine poured down on his head and he tasted his own anguish, bitter on his tongue.

  He threw back his head, betrayal hot and thick in his mouth. His hands fisted, papers crunching as he screamed, “ERIHN…”

  Erihn stared in the mirror, mesmerized by the woman she saw.

  Gone was the dowdy, oversized clothing and thick heavy hair she’d hid behind for so many years. This woman was stylish in an above-the-knee brown suede skirt, cream silk blouse and a gold blazer. She’d cut her hair to three inches below her shoulders. The front was layered to give it a fuller look and to hide some of her scar.

  She didn’t even look like the same woman.

  Erihn glanced down at the pile of her old clothing, then back at the woman in the mirror. She’d abandoned her protective armor and emerged a completely different person. She didn’t feel the same at all, inside or out.

  “Here it is!” Carole, the owner of the boutique, walked into the spacious dressing room with a long gold chain in one hand and a box under her arm. “This belt will be perfect, and here are the shoes I was telling you about.”

  Erihn grinned self-consciously. As a model, she’d had to wear some very scanty clothing. But that was years ago when her thighs were in better shape. She hadn’t worn a skirt this short in a very long time.

  “I don’t know about this…” she began.

  Carole handed over the belt. “It’s perfect. You have great legs. Flaunt them, honey.” She gave a conspiratorial wink. “I know I would if I were you.”

  Erihn slipped the chain link belt around her waist and clipped it on. The end dangled several inches above the hem. Carole pulled the heels from the box and handed them to her. She stepped into the shoes, placing her hand on the wall for balance.

  “It’s been a while.” She looked at her legs in the mirror. The heels did make them look impossibly long and shapely. If men only knew what women went through to look good. She grinned and admired her sleek limbs. While heels weren’t exactly comfortable, they certainly were sexy.

  “Perfect,” Carole announced.

  Erihn smiled. “Box everything except what I’m wearing.”

  “Great.” Carole stooped to pick up the discarded clothing. “What should I do with these?”

  Erihn glanced at the drab bundle in her hands. “Burn them.”

  Carole laughed and hustled off to do her bidding.

  Wouldn’t Fayne be surprised when he saw her? Maybe she could entice him back to bed for the rest of the afternoon. Erihn unbuttoned another button on the shirt, showing a hint of generous curves and a shadow of the delicate lace on her new ivory bra. That might do it. Knowing Fayne’s voracious appetite, it wouldn’t take much.

  In short order, her purchases were packed and the stock boy hauled them out to her car parked in back of the store. Erihn stepped into the sunshine, relieved of several hundred dollars and much lighter of heart. She slipped her sunglasses on and walked toward the corner, her step brisk. Behind her, she heard a loud whistle and Erihn glanced over her shoulder to see two young men dressed in hiking clothes, eyeing her wolfishly.

  An impish urge made her raise her hand and wiggle her fingers at them. Still looking over her shoulder, she reached the corner and slammed into someone, rocking back on her heels.

  “I’m so sorry.” Erihn gave a squeak as icy hands grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her against the building.

  She froze when she saw the towering albino who held her capt
ive. He resembled a skeleton, thin to the point of emaciation and his skin was icy cold. She felt the chill through the lightweight woolen blazer.

  A yelp escaped her when he raised his hand and drew a glacial finger down her scarred face, a smile of satisfaction curving his mouth. A whimper escaped her as his finger caressed her throat and headed toward her exposed cleavage. A cry locked in her throat as a shout drew the man’s attention.

  The two men who’d whistled at her earlier were walking across the street toward them, frowns on their faces. She held her breath when the albino released her, stepping back ever so slightly. His expression regretful, he gave her a meager bow as if to say he was sorry they were about to be interrupted.

  Erihn avoided the mocking eyes as she whirled away. Sobs broke from her lips as she lunged for freedom. Her car seemed so far away. Her heels skidded on the gravel parking lot and, with a shriek, she went down on her hands and knees. Pain shot from her injured hand up her arm when she hit the ground. Ignoring it, she stumbled to her feet and stumbled for her car. She heard a shout and turned, fearfully.

  The two men stood on the corner looking confused and the albino was nowhere to be seen. She glanced around the crowded gravel lot to ensure he hadn’t followed her. It was empty. Opening her car door, she slid behind the wheel.

  After a few tries with trembling hands, she rammed the key home and started the car. Her hand ached. She glanced at her palm. Blood was seeping through the bandages. She’d torn her hand open again.

  Erihn put the car in gear and moved out of her parking space. Her heart raced, her breath coming in gasps as she pulled onto the street. The streetlight was red and she stopped to allow a crowd of tourists to pass. Bowing her head, she bit her lip and shuddered. Who was that horrible man and what did he want?

  She looked up as the crowd dispersed, then shock made the blood run from her face. The albino stood in the crosswalk directly in front of her car. A whimper broke from her throat and her hands fisted on the wheel. The albino smiled as if he were enjoying her fear.