Intelligent eyes opened and, as if it had understood her words, the cat retracted its claws. It leaned forward to lick her cheek, startling a laugh from her.
She threaded her fingers through the rich fur around its neck. "Well, I like you, too." She stroked under the cougar's chin again, and her fingers struck something hard. She frowned as she located a narrow band of amethysts around the cat's neck. The stones glowed warmly, reminding her of Fayne's dark eyes.
"So, you're domesticated, my friend. I suspected as much." She laughed as the cat ducked its head and rolled onto its back, exposing its belly. "And spoiled, too."
As she rubbed its belly, luxuriating in the feel of warm fur beneath her hand, the cat purred loudly, waving all four paws in the air. "What a good," she paused to check its sex, "boy you are."
Slit golden eyes gleamed as if the cat were amused.
"So, who do you belong to?" She drew a lazy figure eight on one side of the cat's ribcage. "One of the neighbors? Maybe you're a rogue circus performer? Or do you belong to Fayne? He strikes me as a cat person."
At the sound of Fayne's name, the cat raised its head and looked directly at her.
"Aha, mystery solved. You must belong to Fayne." Erihn frowned. "It fits, I suppose. I certainly can't see him with a dog for a pet."
The cat made a sound as if in agreement and Erihn giggled with delight. "Well, now that I've determined you're a domesticated kitty..." The cat gave her a baleful look before closing its eyes once again. "I need to take a shower."
Giving the cat one more quick rub behind the ear, she rose and walked into the bathroom. Large windows that overlooked the valley surrounded a spacious garden tub. Jennifer owned most of the acreage within walking distance of the house; consequently she didn't feel the need for curtains in her bathroom. As Erihn mounted the steps to the tub, a breeze blew past her legs. Startled, she watched the cat run up the steps to the tub. Delicately, it walked along the ledge, careful foot placement ensuring the bottles of bath oil, crystals, and seashells were undisturbed.
"Are you going to take a bath with me?" The cat gave a rude snort and Erihn smiled. "I guess not."
She reached for the water controls and turned them on, adjusting them until she got the correct temperature, then turned on the shower. The moment she moved away from the knobs, a big paw reached over and popped the drain plunger, plugging the tub and turning the shower off. Water flooded into the bathtub instead.
Erihn frowned at the cat only to see that he wasn't paying attention to her. Sniffing at the bottles of oil, he moved down the row until he selected one. Unsheathing a claw, he snagged the cork from the bottle and tossed it aside. With the flick of a paw, he then knocked the bottle into the water.
"Hey, now!" Erihn dove for the bottle, rescuing it before the contents flooded the tub. "This is enough oil for a dozen baths, smarty-pants," she admonished. She located the cork and replaced the bottle on the edge of the tub. "So, I guess I'm taking a bath, now?"
The cat settled himself into the sunny corner ledge, and, if Erihn didn't know better, she could swear it smirked at her. She shook her head. No doubt about it, she was overwrought and imagining things.
She shook her head and turned toward the vanity. A collection of hairpins and barrettes resided in a glass bowl. Selecting one, she grabbed her mass of heavy hair and clipped it onto the top of her head with a bright pink alligator clip. Stacked on her head, her hair felt absurdly heavy. Maybe she should think of trimming it a bit.
Her hands stilled. She was in her mid-thirties. Was it odd to keep her long, heavy hair? Hadn't Mel told her that, as women got older, they should go shorter?
Erihn stared at her face in the mirror as if she were suddenly seeing a stranger. How long had it been since she'd really looked at herself? She usually looked long enough to get dressed in the mornings, but she never really stopped and looked at herself.
Dark eyes, shadowed by a restless night, stared at her. She unbuttoned her simple cotton sleep shirt, exposing more of her pale skin. She frowned. Maybe she should lie in the sun while she was here. She usually avoided the sun since she had a tendency to burn; consequently, she looked as white as a fish belly most of the year. She dropped the shirt to the floor and stared at her naked body for the first time in years.
At one time she'd known she was beautiful. At the age of sixteen, she'd been a runway model in New York when an up and coming designer, Serena Del Toro, saw her at a show. Captured by Erihn's coltish legs and fine bones, Serena made her the first Del Toro model. Erihn had then worked exclusively for the Del Toro house until she'd been kidnapped while on location in Central Park.
Her entire life had been shattered in that instant.
Erihn's hand drifted to the scar that began just below her sternum. Now faded to a silvery sheen, the narrow line cut a path across her skin to curve beneath her left breast. She moved her hand down her stomach where another scar ran from just right of her belly button. With trembling fingers, she followed the path of the scar curving across her abdomen and ending at her hip.
He'd left her for dead.
She'd never understood why he'd chosen her as his last victim. The police had never determined a motive for any of the women he'd abducted. Since Chapman had decided death was preferable to being taken alive, they'd never gotten the answers they'd sought. With the police battering at the cellar door, he'd blown his brains out less then three feet away from her after attempting to kill her.
Tears stung her eyes and she closed them, shutting out the image of her imperfection. Fayne thought he wanted her, but if he saw she was damaged goods, he'd run as far and as fast as he could, just as any other man would. She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection. She was the only one who'd survived Chapman's nightmare to tell about it. So many wasted years, so many wasted lives.
She turned to find the cat watching her. Stretched out on the edge of the tub, it's golden eyes flicked over her and Erihn felt a moment of self-consciousness. She had to force herself not to cover her nudity in front of the cat. Like he'd cringe from her scars. She grinned and picked up a washcloth and two towels and placed them within easy reach of the tub.
She walked up the steps and to the bathtub, lowering herself into the water. Warmth surrounded her and the scent of rose geranium teased her nose as she settled into the cloud of bubbles. She reached out with her toes and turned the water off. The cat rose and moved around the tub to settle behind her, its warm belly supporting the back of her head.
She giggled as the cat nuzzled her throat. "That tickles." The cat brushed its whiskers against her shoulder and she cupped some warm water in her palm and splashed it at him. The cat moved its head away to avoid getting wet, then returned, this time slipping a rough tongue across the nape of her neck.
Erihn flicked more water at the cat. He away back and fixed her with an offended stare. "I'm so sorry, your highness," she teased. She removed the water droplets from his whiskers. Its tongue flicked over her palm, startling her. She smiled as the cat purred loudly.
Settling her head against his warm belly, silence wrapped around her like a cloak. With a satisfied hum, Erihn closed her eyes. There was something sensual and infinitely soothing about taking a bath. Unfortunately, with her hectic schedule, taking a leisurely bath was a novelty.
She picked up her washcloth and a large bar of rose soap from a dish. After dampening the cloth, she added the soap and worked it into a lather, enjoying its rich floral scent. She drew the soapy cloth over her throat, acutely aware of the sensuality of the movement. The sound of the saturated cotton moving over her skin, the soft bubbles, the fragrance of the bath oil, and the lulling purr of the cat behind her soothed her in a way she'd never felt before.
She drew the cloth down her throat to her chest before slipping it beneath the water. Lightly she brushed the cloth over the tip of her breast, aware as never before of her body and its reactions.
She cupped her breast, feeling its weight buoyed by the water. She b
rushed her thumb over the burgeoning tip and her breath hissed through her teeth. She gave her nipple an experimental tug as the cat stirred, brushing its muzzle against her shoulder as if to encourage her explorations.
She allowed her washcloth-covered hand to drift lower. Soft curls gave way as she cupped her mound and a thrill of naughtiness flowed through her limbs. Spreading her thighs, she breached the tender folds and brushed a finger over her delicate inner lips, parting them. A quiver of delight rushed through her body as her fingertip grazed the sensitive nub. Never had she indulged in such sensuous play, she'd been too reserved, her upbringing too stringent and her kidnapping too traumatic to even think of such a thing. Wouldn't her readers be shocked to know that she'd never even experienced an orgasm?
Erihn drew her knees closer to her body and parted her thighs further. Waves of sensation rippled through her nervous system as she settled into a slow, rhythmic caress. Her hips rocked with each stroke, her breathing deeper as she imagined Fayne's hands on her body, caressing her to fulfillment.
Fayne?
Stunned, she stopped the sensual movement and her eyes flew open. What was she thinking?
Erihn raised one trembling hand to her face. Her skin felt warm, alien beneath her touch. How could she have behaved in such a shameless fashion? It was one thing to write about it in one of her books, it was another to act a wanton fantasy out. What had come over her?
Erihn scrambled out of the bathtub, her hands trembling as she reached for the stack of colored towels. She caught sight of her face in the mirror and was shocked at how rosy and vibrant her skin appeared, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. She had the look of an aroused woman.
She was startled when the cat nudged her hand, seeking her attention. It stood beside her, watching her with its golden eyes.
"I'm so confused," she whispered.
The Erihn she'd known for the past seventeen years was no more. In her place was a stranger filled with a maelstrom of physical desires. She swallowed. It was unnerving to face this reckless woman in the mirror.
The cat nuzzled her palm, purring contentedly. Its warm body leaned against her leg as if to assure her she wasn't alone. She sank to her heels and wound her arms around the animal, taking comfort from the warmth and strength of him.
Several moments passed, the cat passive against her. Then the purring stopped and its muscles tensed as the cat went still, silent. Erihn raised her head and frowned, looking to where the cat's gaze was trained on the doorway leading into the bedroom. Was it Fayne? Was he coming up the steps? She released the cat and, before she could rise, the cat sprang. Clearing the doorway, it streaked into the bedroom. She heard the cat's large paws thudding down the steps.
She scrambled to her feet and pulled the clip from her hair, allowing the heavy weight to tumble down her back. Erihn tiptoed into the bedroom. Scanning the room, she saw nothing amiss. Her open suitcase lay on the chaise, and she walked over to dig out something practical to wear for the long drive back to the airport.
Depression made her limbs leaden as she pulled out a gray cashmere skirt. Her fingertips caressing the heavy, sensual texture of the garment, she had the odd thought that her body felt more alive and aware than ever before. She drew the skirt on, luxuriating in the sinful feel of the soft knit against her bare backside. Reaching for her cotton underwear, she hesitated. No one would know if she didn't put any on, would they? And, maybe, she'd forego her bra also...
Finding a black angora sweater, she pulled it on, luxuriating in the soft weave against her bare breasts. Lace-trimmed anklets and supple suede ankle boots completed her ensemble.
Never in her life had she felt more naughty, more shameless.
The house was silent as she exited the bedroom, the faint scent of wood smoke lingering in the air. She padded down the steps and walked down the hall to peer into the living room. The mound of pillows remained on the floor before the smoldering embers in the fireplace. She glanced away, not wanting to remember Fayne's words of last night.
A peculiar thudding sound, coming from the front of the house, reached her ears. Frowning, she walked to the front door. As she threw it open, a yelp of dismay escaped her at the sight before her eyes.
Halfway up the drive lay a massive pile of rubble blocking the gravel lane. A giant pine tree lay mixed in the rubble of earth and rocks, its roots clawing for the air. There was no way she'd get a car out of the drive anytime soon.
Fayne knew the moment Erihn opened the front door. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he felt her gaze sweep his skin. He stood among the tree branches on the far side of the drive, an ax in his hand as he methodically lopped off the branches, tossing them into an expanding pile. Shirtless in the cool air, he was coated in sweat and pine pitch. Not exactly proper attire to impress and seduce a skittish young woman.
Her boots crunched in the gravel as she advanced toward him. He slammed the ax into the tree then turned; his breath left his lungs.
Her knit skirt clung like a second skin to her long limbs, delineating strong thighs and curvy hips. Her breasts swayed with each movement beneath her black sweater. Her long dark hair was down and it hung heavily over her shoulders like a thick brown pelt. He wondered if she knew exactly how much her clothing revealed to his gaze. He ground his teeth as a rush of lust hit his groin. This was not the time to get an erection. His sweat pants might be baggy, but they weren't capable of hiding anything of that nature.
He forced himself to breathe normally as she stopped a few scant feet from the mess.
"This was such a beautiful tree," Erihn mourned.
"This beautiful tree will prevent you from making your escape," he said, his tone wry.
She blushed then surprised him by meeting his gaze. "You probably think I'm a fool," she said.
Fayne leaned against the tree trunk, shaking his head as he spoke. "I don't think you're a fool, Erihn. I think your experiences have made you distrust men and that's understandable. I want you to know we aren't all the same."
She recoiled, shock written on her face. Her hand fluttered, coming to rest in the center of her chest. He saw the desire to believe flicker in her eyes. She wanted to believe in his words. He had her teetering on the edge of a whole new world. All he had to do was coax her into taking the leap of faith that all humans faced sooner or later.
"I don't think..."
"Yes, you do, Erihn. You believe all men can and will hurt you and that isn't so. If you want to lie to me and say you don't think all men are capable of this, then fine. Lie. But don't deceive yourself."
"Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered, her lips trembled as if she were going to cry.
A mild feeling of panic fluttered in Fayne's gut. He hated it when a woman cried; he never quite knew what to do when that happened. But, if he didn't push her, she'd retreat again and that he couldn't have. "Why are you fighting me so?'
"You frighten me," she murmured quietly, moving back from him.
Frustration surged forth and Fayne pushed off from the tree. Reaching forward, he caught her wrist. Her pulse beat wildly beneath his thumb, and he smelled desire on her skin. Since the moment he'd set eyes on her, he'd alternated between exhilaration and terror. She was the most fascinating and repressed woman he'd ever met but today, there was something different about her. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He pulled her into his arms, his fingers twining in the thick hair at the base of her skull.
"Welcome to the club," he whispered before he claimed her mouth.
The taste of her exploded through his body. The essence of mint and warm woman tore through his resistance, setting his cock on full alert. Pulling her body into the curve of his, he relished the feel of her supple limbs, the heavy silk of her hair and the floral essence that clung to her skin.
Never had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted this one.
He wanted to shout with joy as her hands skimmed his side before her arms curled around his back, fingers splaying
outward across his spine to cling to him. Her tongue tangled with his, tentative, shy in her hesitant movements. Patient, he showed her how to kiss him, how to tease, tempt, seduce, and how to drive him to the edge of madness. In moments, he learned she was a quick study as she caught his tongue and gently sucked, mimicking his movements expertly.
A feral growl erupted from his chest as a surge of lust slammed into him. Within seconds, he was hard as a rock, need hammering at his body. He skimmed his hand down her back, desperate to feel her skin. Slipping a hand beneath her sweater, he zeroed in on the center of her lower back. Gently, he stroked her with feather-light touches.
He was rewarded with a strangled sigh as she lunged against him, sending him stumbling into the tree trunk. Her unbound breasts, pressed against him, felt like heaven. Stroking his hand around and up her side, he bypassed her ribcage to cup her breast, his thumb teasing her taut tip.
He swallowed her moan as he plumped her breast in the palm of his hand. He needed to taste her skin. He broke the kiss, his breath screaming into his lungs as he watched her eyelids flutter. Her lips swollen and her eyes dilated with passion, she looked at him, her expression confused.
He wanted her to see what he was about to do.
Slowly, so she could follow every movement, he raised her sweater, baring her breast to the elements and his gaze. The aureole was a pale brown, her nipple hard in the cool air, reaching for him as if begging for his touch. Her skin was so fair he could trace the delicate veins. Just looking at her made his mouth water.
Keeping an eye on her face, he lowered his head and licked the very tip. She quivered in his arms as a soft squeak erupted from her. Licking around the edge of the aureole in tight little swipes, her fingers tightened on his back. She moved her right hand up and twined in his hair as if to guide him to her, but he refused to be rushed. Some things in life were meant to be savored, and worshipping a woman's body was one of them.
The scent of her bath oil clouded his senses as he nipped and kissed her breast, pausing every now and then to lap at the tip.
Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 3 Page 7