4
His fingers were buried deep in her sex when she woke up. Her nipples were tight, her pussy so wet she whimpered before she opened her eyes. His arms held her back tight to his chest, but she twisted around as best she could to look at him.
Only to find that he was still deep in slumber.
She snorted, dropping her head onto the pillow. Madras, the man was seducing her in his sleep. If she weren’t so painfully aroused, it might have been funny.
“Rafe,” she breathed.
He groaned, his hand moving within her. She couldn’t hold back a hiss, arching her hips to get more friction on her clit. Any resistance, any rational part of her that might think this was a bad idea, was shredded by the insistent demand of her hormones.
She felt him jolt to awareness, and he sucked in a startled breath. His big body froze against her back. “Um . . .”
“Good morning.” Her voice was remarkably even, which she was a bit proud of, until he twitched his fingers inside of her and made her moan.
“You’re wet,” he growled. He ran his thumb over her clit and she clutched at the sheet wrapped around them. One of his arms was trapped underneath her, and it flexed each time his hand delved into her pussy.
She gritted her teeth, only to find her fangs had extended from her gums. “I thought you were only here to sleep.”
“I was. I slept. You slept. Now we can try something new.” His top hand tugged the sheet away, and the cool air made her shiver, her nipples peaking tighter.
Grabbing his free hand, she dragged it to her breast and curled his fingers around her curves. “Try this while you’re at it.”
He laughed. “Damn, but I do like you, Teresa.”
She liked him too. Liked the way he’d cared that she got the sleep she desperately needed, liked that he’d worried about her enough to find a way into Antonio’s office to check on her, liked that he’d addressed her concerns about their relationship being exposed, liked that he even knew she needed the reassurance. He was doing everything right, and he wasn’t even trying.
And she more than liked the way he touched her. Which was far more than she should. How long could she keep this up before she gave in to the instinct to mark him? It was madness, how she craved a man she barely knew.
He plucked at her nipples, one at a time, twisted them with slow precision that made her squirm. More fluids surged from her sex and he purred, sliding his fingers in and out of her channel, slipping her moisture up to swirl around her clit, and then reversing the hot circuit.
“Oh, God,” she breathed. Her claws raked down the mattress in front of her when he thrust three big fingers inside of her. “Fuck me. Right now. I want you inside of me.”
He jerked his hand away from her sex and used it to shove her top leg forward. She arched her body, lifting her hips to open herself to his penetration. She felt the blunt probing of his cock and then the exquisite pressure of him working his long length inside of her.
A rough sound burst out of him when her pussy spasmed around his dick. “Damn, you feel good.”
“Hurry.” She shoved her hips back, taking him as deep as possible.
He used the fingers on one hand to tease her nipple, and the other circled her clit while he thrust his cock into her. The rhythm was just fast enough to have her on the screaming edge, but not fast enough to allow her to fly over. The pleasure of it was so white-hot, she thought she’d burn. He touched her everywhere she wanted to be touched, fed her every craving.
The way he filled her made her writhe to get closer, to get more. He pinched her nipple hard, and she hissed. Her fangs scraped her lower lip, but his every stroke within her only frayed the tethers she had on the wildness inside.
“How do you want to come, Teresa? Hard and fast?” He flicked her clit just that way, and every muscle in her body jolted. His chuckle sounded more like a purr. “Or do you want me to make it last for you? Tease you until you can’t stand it anymore?”
“Dios, you want me to decide?” She choked as the tip of one of his claws teased her clit oh-so-gently.
“Mmm-hmm.” He nipped at her shoulder but didn’t bite her. Still, the Panther within her writhed in excitement at the very possibility.
Two of his claws scraped over her wet, sensitive flesh and she cried out. “Fast. Hard. That’s . . . that’s how I want it.”
“See? That wasn’t such a difficult decision, was it?”
As a response, she swung an elbow back and caught him in the belly. His breath whooshed out, but he sputtered on a laugh. She snorted and then couldn’t help the giggle that burst out. When was the last time she’d laughed during sex? Playful wasn’t normally her way, but she had to admit she enjoyed it.
His pelvis slapped her ass as he powered into her pussy. The swiftness of it caught her off-guard, left her gasping at the intensity of the way he filled her to the limit. She wrapped her hand around his forearm, holding on for dear life as he picked up speed and force, giving her exactly what she’d asked for.
“Yes, yes, yes!” She moved with him, taking all of him. Her inner muscles flexed around him with each hard entry, and she could feel orgasm building.
It was too good to last, ecstasy this perfect.
And that was the worst knowledge in the world; it flayed at her soul. She couldn’t keep this. Sadness swamped her soul, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. She barely knew this man, and she couldn’t let herself get to know him. The instincts that rode her like the devil himself would make it far too easy to give everything without thought to cost or consequences. Those impulses went against everything she was as a person—meticulous and in control.
His claws raked over her nipples one at a time, and the sting was as sweet as the pleasure, each of them feeding the other. He snarled when her pussy spasmed around him. “Are you close?”
She nodded, unable to trust her voice. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she could feel his chest bellowing as he panted. Sweat trickled down their skin, and the bedsprings squeaked underneath them. The sound of their flesh slapping together when he thrust into her, their mingling cries and groans, all combined in a carnal symphony that drove her higher and higher. Any moment, she would fall.
Reaching back, she grabbed his ass, urging him faster. He complied, racing her for orgasm. “Teresa!”
Her name on his lips, the sound half guttural demand and half reverent prayer, was enough to break her. She screamed, slamming her hips back to meet his next thrust and everything inside her shattered into a million little pieces. Her sex pulsed in waves on his cock, and his continued strokes only pushed her orgasm onward, kept her channel flexing around him.
Digging her claws into his arm, she tried to keep from sobbing at the endless ecstasy. “Come with me, Rafe.”
He groaned, his strokes faltering. Then he pushed inside her once, twice, three more times before he shuddered against her. His come pumped inside of her, flooding her sex.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as they came down from the high. She sighed and let her eyes drift shut while she enjoyed the feel of being in his embrace. She shouldn’t let herself linger, shouldn’t even admit how much she liked it. Just another few minutes, she promised herself. Then she’d get up and walk away. Then she’d get on with the work of the summit.
Anxiety and anticipation fluttered through her. There was so much riding on how well she did at this political meeting of minds. These were the most powerful people in her world, and she had to prove she was their equal, without any support from her family. Her father should be here. Hell, her brother should be here. This was supposed to be his destiny, not hers.
She pinched her eyes closed tighter and pushed away thoughts of her family. Father had empowered her to make decisions here, and he trusted her not to let him down, not to let the entire Pride down. This was what she needed to focus on, not having wild sex with a virtual stranger. It didn’t matter that the stranger in question was her mate, or that she found him irresistibly attractive, or that he seemed genuinely concerned about her in a way no one had been since she was thrust into her brother’s place as heir.
“I have to get ready and go downstairs.” She tugged at his arms.
“I know.” He kissed her shoulder and let her up, no fighting with her, no annoyance over her work interrupting their postcoital cuddling.
She liked that, as she liked so much about him. Which was something she shouldn’t think about. She’d made her decision about mating before she ever met him, and her motivation for avoiding it hadn’t changed. Crawling out of bed, she fished a robe out of the suitcases she still hadn’t managed to unpack.
He rose to his feet, pulling his shirt over his head. It was a shame to cover all that taut male flesh. She had to force herself to look away before she jumped him. He stepped into his pants and fastened them. “I’d like to see you when you’re done today.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be done.” She belted her robe tight around her waist, taking comfort in the thin protection it offered. “This sort of event is unprecedented and therefore unpredictable.”
“Well, I have a lot of writing and research to do, so I’m more than capable of keeping myself entertained. I still want to see you when you’re done, even if it’s just to hold you while you sleep.”
She bit her lip, uncertain. There were so many reasons why that was a bad plan. She was usually one who planned everything ahead of time, examined every angle, tested every flaw before she made the best decision possible. With Rafe, she wanted to make a decision she knew wasn’t a good one. She should say no, should refuse to be alone in the same room with him until she left for Spain.
The Panther within her sank its claws deep into her soul, a protest that such a thought would even surface. She ignored the feline instincts that warred with her rational mind. “It would be a mistake to get to know each other.”
He flinched a bit and a part of her ached inside that she’d brought him any pain. She bunched her fists and ruthlessly reminded herself that it was better to face the pain now than deal with the endless suffering that her brother was going through. That was not something she wanted to deal with, not something she wanted to inflict on a man she liked.
Rafe’s dark chocolate gaze held hers. “I want to know you, my mate.”
“We’ll never be mated, Rafe.” She crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders. “Trust me when I tell you it’s better this way.”
“Why should I trust you when you won’t tell me the whole truth about why you’re so afraid of mating?” The words were soft, but implacable, and they made the guilt she always tried to ignore come screeching to the surface.
She wanted to insist that she wasn’t afraid, but it wouldn’t be true. The truth was she was terrified of mating. The truth was far more complicated than anyone could guess. The truth was a tangled web of lies and secrets that weren’t entirely hers to tell. She shook her head. “I’ve told you everything I can.”
He reached out and cupped her chin, running his thumb over her bottom lip. “Someday you’ll trust me with everything, Teresa. Not just your body, but your heart and soul as well. Until you give me a reason that’s good enough, I’m refusing to believe we can’t work through whatever is holding you back. I can wait for you to be ready, but I’m not going anywhere.”
A shiver went down her spine, and she jerked away from his light touch. She couldn’t give him what he wanted. She would not.
But that didn’t stop her from wishing things were different, that she were different. That she hadn’t seen what she’d seen, that she didn’t know what she knew about what happened when mating went wrong. Her heart squeezed in pain at the reminder. The plan had always been to never mate. That was the only plan where she avoided the kind of misery and madness her brother lived with every day. That was the only plan she could trust.
Normally, he’d have avoided this cocktail party like the plague, but it was an opportunity to see Teresa and to watch her in what would be her natural environment. They were almost a week into the summit, so she’d had some time to settle in. He straightened his tie and tugged down the cuffs on his jacket. It had been a few years since he’d worn this suit—not since Antonio and Solana’s wedding. He spent his time in hiking boots, not Italian wool suits.
Sweeping the Panther gathering with a look, he saw the entire Cruz family circulating through the crowd, and a few North American Pride members were also in the room, but most of them cast surreptitious glances at the celebrities of the Panther world. Antonio was deep in conversation with the South American Pride leader, the African leader heatedly debated with the Asian delegate, and the Australian emissary chatted with the South American heir and Teresa. She said something and the other two laughed.
Rafe had already gotten the impression of the savvy politico when he’d been in Antonio’s office with her, but he was too fascinated not to try to uncover more. He knew already that she was a passionate lover and a stubborn female when she believed in something. She’d refused to even speak to him about why she didn’t want to be mated since that first conversation—a fact that made the journalist in him chafe. The bullheaded fortitude to see an idea through would serve her well as a Pride heir and someday-leader, but wouldn’t be as desirable in a mate. Relationships required people to bend, to change. Was her uncompromising outlook strictly related to marriage or did it spill into all areas of her life?
This was his chance to find out.
He greeted a few of the Pride members, moving through the crowd with the ease of someone who spent his life talking to strangers. He’d found that no matter what country he was in, no matter if the people were rich or poor, educated or not, they were still just people with an interesting story to tell. Keeping that in mind had always made it a little easier to deal with Panthers who outranked him by a mile.
Eventually, he worked his way into the same group as Teresa. He fought a chuckle when he found the Australian ambassador had apparently had one too many servings of scotch. She slurred her words a little and gestured grandly with her glass. He met Teresa’s gaze and winked, which made her lips twitch as she struggled with her own laughter.
“So, when’re you going to come Down Under again, Santiago?” The Australian hiccupped quietly and squinted her eyes as if concentrating. “Loved the little things you wrote the last time you were there.”
Tomas, the Brazilian Pride heir, coughed into his fist. “Yes, I . . . quite liked the little things you wrote about your last South American expedition. Machu Picchu, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” Rafe smiled, noting how often the other man’s gaze strayed to his wife, Ciri. It wouldn’t surprise him if the two disappeared soon. The pheromones were thick enough to cut with a knife. He’d heard the couple had had some issues lately, made worse by her attack from an outcast. It seemed those problems had been cleared up. He was glad for them—he didn’t know Ciri well, but he’d met Tomas a few times and liked him. “Ben was with me on that trip as my photographer. He got some great shots.”
“Ciri says Ben’s work is amazing.” Tomas dragged his gaze away from his wife and gave an unashamed grin when he noticed he’d been caught staring at her. “I’m afraid I leave knowing anything about art to her, but she has excellent taste, so I’m sure she’s right.”
“I’m right, am I? Can I have that in writing?” Ciri slipped in beside her mate, and he wrapped an arm around her waist and bent to brush her lips in a quick kiss. The smile she gave him was so intimate, Rafe felt he was intruding.
He looked to the Australian emissary. “I’m glad you enjoyed my stories, ma’am. I’m not sure when I’ll get down there again, but I’d love to go back. You have a wonderful country.”
“We do.” She nodded, and he thought it was supposed to be a crisp movement, but with her silver hair up in a topknot, it ended up looking something like one of those wobbly headed dolls. She focused on Teresa. “How rude of me. I forgot to ask how your brother is. I haven’t seen him since—”
Her eyes widened as she realized what had come out of her mouth. Teresa stiffened beside him, and he set a supportive hand on her back. She lifted her chin. “He’s as well as can be expected. Thank you for inquiring.”
The older woman was saved from responding when a child’s piping voice cut through the low burble of the gathered adults.
“Are you really a non-shifter?”
Rafe jerked around and watched Ben freeze outside the doorway. He was in jeans and a T-shirt, a cup of coffee in one hand. Since he avoided Panther gatherings like the plague, Rafe guessed he’d been passing by on his way from the kitchen to the main staircase.
“Marisol!” Ciri voiced the child’s name as an admonishment. She gave Rafe an apologetic glance. “Tomas’s niece. She’s only eight.”
She was small for her age, a tiny fairy with a carrying voice. She looked confused as she stood there in the doorway. “What?”
A flush swept up Ben’s face as he realized every person in the room was now focused on the tableau with the non-shifter. His flesh mottled red, but his gaze was steady when he met the child’s eyes. “Yes, I’m a non-shifter.”
Her brows scrunched. “My avô says you’re a curse on our people and you shouldn’t be allowed to stay in a Pride.”
Rafe’s fists balled at his sides and it was all he could do not to walk over and punch the South American Pride leader in the face. This was the kind of bullshit that had left Ben a homeless, starving child. Teresa’s hand curled around his forearm, and he wasn’t sure if she meant the gesture as reassurance or a way to hold him back, but it snapped him back to logic. He was so angry, he was shaking, and he latched on to her hand and squeezed.
Ben’s shoulders straightened, but he didn’t back down from Marisol’s comment. “It’s fortunate for me that your avô doesn’t make decisions for this Pride. Antonio Cruz believes there’s more a Panther can contribute to a Pride than the ability to shift and breed. There are too few of us in the world to turn anyone out in the cold.”
Too bad the Pride he’d grown up in hadn’t felt the same. Sickness curdled in Rafe’s gut. He took a step forward to go to Ben, to give him a show of support, but Ben met his gaze briefly and shook his head, telling him to stay where he was.
Teresa squeezed his fingers and breathed in his ear, “You’ll hurt his pride if you don’t let him stand on his own two feet now.”
“I know. Damn it.” So he stayed and let Ben suffer alone, his chest tight with too many emotions.
The little girl tilted her head in thought, biting her lower lip. After a long moment, she nodded decisively. “I think you’re right. Families should be together, and Panthers are all family.”
A slight, bitter smile curled Ben’s lips. “I wish it were that simple.”
“I understand that adults make things more complicated than they are.” Marisol’s face looked far too old and wise for her years. She reached out her hand and tucked it in Ben’s much larger one. “I understand that I like you. Don’t you like me too?”
The young man looked stunned by the child’s open gesture of friendship. Rafe knew there had been very few Panthers who willingly touched Ben after his non-shifter status had become apparent. He’d been treated as though he had leprosy. He swallowed hard, his voice emerging in a rasp. “Yes, I do.”
“Good. We’ll be friends, then.” Her smile was brighter than sunshine. “Aunt Ciri said you go all over the world and take pictures.”
“I’m a photographer, yeah.”
“I want to travel, too, but avô says because I’m in the leading family that I won’t be able to go to other Panther territories.”
“I’m not in the leading family.”
She nodded sagely. “You’re lucky, then.”
He snorted. “You’re the only person to ever say so.”
“Will you take my picture? I look very pretty in my dress.” She held out the edge of the deep blue skirt. “Aunt Andrea made it just for me.”
“It’s a nice dress.” A tentative smile curled his lips at this pint-sized whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm. “I’d be glad to take your photograph.”
“Okay, let’s go now!” She started down the hall, towing Ben along in her wake. He flashed Rafe a relieved look before he disappeared from view.
“Is it safe for her to be alone with him?” The Australian ambassador turned to Ciri and Tomas.
A muscle ticked in Rafe’s jaw and for the first time in his life, he seriously considered doing damage to a woman. “Ben is a good man, which you would know if your Pride hadn’t thrown him out.”
Teresa’s grip on his hand became bone-crushing. He snapped his mouth shut and glared down at her. Did she agree with this woman? Did she think non-shifters were cursed and should be discarded like so much trash? Everything in him recoiled at the very thought.
“Australia did nothing that every other Pride hasn’t done in the past.” The older woman flushed, her mouth tightening.
“That was the past, and we must look to the future. I think Antonio is giving us an excellent example to follow, both with this peace summit and with his policy of non-shifter acceptance.” Teresa’s voice was cool and smooth, but loud enough for every Panther in the room to hear. “This Pride has suffered no ill effects from taking in a non-shifter. No curse troubles this den. And I, for one, believe that destroying others of our kind through feuding or prejudice is counterproductive. We must preserve the Panthers we have, regardless of their ability to shift, and use every resource at our disposal to thrive.”
The Australian emissary snorted. “You’re as crazy as your brother if you think one leader can make everyone accept non-shifters. They aren’t normal Panthers—they can’t give a Pride what it needs most, and that’s more Panthers.”
“A non-shifter is a Panther, and their financial contributions to a Pride help support Panther children. Even mated Panthers have no guarantee of breeding more of our kind—if they don’t, does that really make them less worthy?” Teresa shook her head. “It’s unfortunate that your bigotry has blinded you to what’s truly valuable.”
The older woman’s gaze narrowed to dangerous slits, an enraged hiss erupting from her throat. “Your father will hear of how insolently you’ve spoken to me this evening.”
“I’ll be certain to let him know about the disparaging remarks you’ve made about my brother. Be certain your Pride leader will hear of it—from my father. I can assure you he will be most displeased.” Teresa’s chin rose, a gesture Rafe was beginning to associate with her. Her gaze swept the room. “If you’ll all excuse me.”
He kept her hand in his, squeezing tight as they both strode from the room. A few people noted his gesture, but there were more important things to contend with. Like his mate. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, her gaze glassy with shock. She looked around as if she had no idea where to go now. He urged her up the steps, gently leading her down the corridor to his room. Tonight, he wanted her in his space, not some guest suite.
“Thank you for defending Ben.” He drew her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
Teresa shook herself out of her stupor and met his gaze. “He’ll be all right. Marisol seems like the kind of kid that could make anyone laugh.”
A growl was the best he could manage while he pulled her over to sit on his couch. It was beat-up and comfortable, like everything else in the large room. “He’s been through too much already.”
She squeezed his fingers, kicking off her heels to curl her feet underneath her. “He seems more than capable of fighting his own battles. You can’t save him from what he is.”
He grunted. “He shouldn’t need saving.”
“I agree with you.” She sighed, brought his hand to her mouth, and kissed his palm.
It was in that moment that he realized why she was his mate. He could handle the stubborn streak as long as their fundamental beliefs were the same, and her actions today had told him more clearly than anything else could that she was the kind of woman he could respect.
Her self-deprecating grin crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Though I’m afraid my lecturing the Australians about persecuting one of their Pride members will just make me look hypocritical considering what happened to Isabel.”
He pulled his knee up and propped his elbow on it. “No one here holds you responsible for what Enrique did to Isabel.”
The smile disappeared, and something dark and painful flashed in her gaze. “They have every right to do so if they want to.”
“Why? You didn’t do it.” He tightened his grip on her fingers when she tried to pull away. “Even by our own culture, the Pride leader is held responsible for the actions of his people. Other members are not.”
Her throat worked, and she swallowed hard. “I played as much a part in what happened as my father did.”
“I can’t believe that.” He shook his head at her. No way. A woman who valued people’s lives so much wouldn’t have let Isabel be mauled. It just didn’t fit with what he knew of Teresa’s character so far.
“You should believe.” Her mouth firmed, and that horrible pain flickered in her eyes again before she masked it. “I’m not perfect, Rafe. I’ve done things you wouldn’t approve of, things that would make you think badly of me.”
“I’m sure I’ve done the same. No one is perfect, least of all me. But you can tell me anything, and I promise not to judge.”
She glanced away, saying nothing more, and he felt a frustration he was becoming familiar with. It was one step forward, two steps back with her. “Okay, time to call Father. I’m afraid jumping into the fray tonight means I have to explain my actions to him. No talking me out of it this time.”
He waved his free hand at the cordless phone sitting on a side table. “Feel free to use the line in here.”
“Thank you.” She rose, picked up the handset, and dialed.
He was glad she didn’t protest and insist on going back to her room. Even when he wanted to shake her, he liked having her here, liked watching her wander around in her bare feet while she explained to her father what she had done, her scent spreading and mingling with Rafe’s. It felt good.
He snagged a notebook from the coffee table and started jotting down a few notes for a story he was writing. If she was working, he could always occupy himself. Toeing off his shoes, he propped his feet on the low table—something he couldn’t do in her fancy suite.
The sound of her voice was a soothing murmur in the background as she spoke to her father. That her voice never rose and remained calm told Rafe that everything was fine, and he settled in to get as much done as he could.
“What are you doing?” She replaced the cordless phone and stood there looking at him.
“Just getting some stuff out for a story before I forget it.” He wrote down a few more lines before he set the pen and paper aside.
When he glanced up he saw her moving toward her discarded heels. There was no way he was letting her leave now. Using the extra speed his Panther side gave him, he was on his feet and had her in his arms in under a second.
She startled, but molded her body to his when he slanted his mouth over hers. He teased her lips with his tongue, and she parted them for him. The taste of her was sweet. He caught her hands, drawing them behind her back as he continued to kiss her. Long, slow, drugging kisses that made her sag against him. He tightened his grip, and he felt her stiffen the moment she realized how neatly he’d captured her. She jerked her mouth away from his. “Let go, please.”
“What’s the matter, beautiful?” He knew his grin was as much mocking as teasing, and her muscles tautened further. “Do you need to be cool, calm, and in control that much?”
“I’m supposed to be.” He watched passion and logic war for dominance in her gaze. She licked swollen lips and his cock jerked in response. He’d love her mouth on him. Next time. This time, he wanted his cock in her hot little pussy.
“Hmm. Is that right?” He squeezed her wrists tighter, just to let her know who was in command of this situation. Then he brushed her lips in a quick, hard kiss. “You don’t have to be in control around me, Teresa. I won’t tell anyone if you let your guard down. You can trust me.”
Her gray gaze searched his face. “I know that. I barely know you, but . . . I can trust you.”
He grinned. “Instinct versus logic—the curse of being a Panther.”
Shadows danced in her eyes. Secrets and pain she wouldn’t share with him. “That’s not the biggest curse.”
“Oh? What is?”
She shrugged. “There are a lot of them.”
That wasn’t the whole story. Again. As usual. He ground his teeth together as the annoyance lanced through him. But he squelched the anger. Patience, he reminded himself. He could push her to tell him and get nothing for his effort, or he could push her in other ways.
Sitting down on the couch, he reeled her in by the grip he had on her wrists. Flipping her over his knee, he had her across his lap before she’d finished gasping in surprise. He tossed her skirt over her head and stroked his fingers down the soft globes of her ass. “So, you trust me, don’t you, Teresa?”
A shiver passed through her and she tugged at her hands. He held fast, waiting for her to adjust. He wasn’t above tipping the scales in his favor, so he eased his hand under the edge of her thong panties and slid his fingers up and down her wet slit. And she was wet. Every passing moment made her wetter. Dios, but he loved the way she reacted to him.
She moaned, clutching at the leg of his pants for balance as she lifted her hips to meet his touch. “Please, Rafe.”
“Please, what?” He withdrew his fingers from her sex, trailing her wetness in circles over her ass. Then he smacked her lightly. She choked, and he felt her claws rip through his trousers. “Please, what, Teresa? Is this what you want?”
He hit her again, harder this time, so there’d be no mistaking his meaning. She squirmed on his lap, and her hot scent reached his nose. “Yes. Please. Whatever you want. I want you.”
Swatting her thigh made her jolt, and he grinned. “I want you too. And I want this.”
He peppered slaps across her backside, increasing in speed and force until her flesh was warm and red under his hand. She moaned, undulating against his legs. The crack of his palm on her ass sounded loud in the room, and his cock became a steel rod in his pants. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out before he had her. Pausing, he cupped one buttock in his hand, just so she could feel the sting. She hissed, her back arching like a cat in heat.
He slipped his fingers inward, teasing the slick lips of her pussy. Her panties were soaked with moisture, and he plunged two digits into her sex, fucking her with his fingers. Her inner muscles spasmed, and he could tell she was already close to orgasm. He pulled away, not wanting her to go over that edge yet. Not yet.
“Please, Rafe!” she cried out, wriggling to get free of his hold, but he gripped her wrists tight and spanked her harder.
Lifting her ass to meet each stinging swat, her claws dug into his thigh. A Panther’s scream burst from her, and it called to the basest part of him, the feline that craved her as he’d never craved anything in his life. He had to have her. Now.
Groaning, he jerked her upright. She straddled his lap, reaching between them to rip open his belt and pants. She jerked aside the inset of her panties, and then he was inside her, and she rode him while he shoved his hips upward to fuck her. Her wet sex hugged his cock, and it was so good he thought he might explode from his skin.
His lungs heaved for breath, and sweat slipped down his skin. Sliding his hips out to the edge of the leather couch, he positioned them for a deeper angle.
“Rafe!” She leaned backward, bracing her hands on his knees and the angle was even better, her slick sheath even tighter on his dick.
“I love the feel of you on my cock, Teresa. All sweet and tight and wet.” He gritted the words out between clenched fangs.
She shuddered, her face flushed, and she worked herself on his dick faster. “I like how you feel inside me.”
Now it was his turn to shudder, pumping his cock as quickly as he could. His muscles burned from the strain, and he could see how her eyes had burned to gold. She smiled down at him, her fangs flashing. They went wild on each other, everything in perfect sync. The Panther inside him struggled for control, and his talons scrabbled across the leather sofa. He fought the urge to rear up and bite her, mark her as his. He held back, but just barely.
His hands reached out to bracket her hips, sliding around to squeeze the punished flesh of her ass. She hissed, the cat within her shimmering just below the surface. Her pussy flexed around him, her moisture glistening on his hard flesh when she lifted off of his cock and slammed herself back down.
Firming his grip, he pulled her tight on the base of his dick while he ground his pelvis against her clit. She threw her head back and shrieked, the gold of impending change flickering over her skin. Her channel closed around his cock, milking him until he couldn’t hold out any longer.
Jets of come spurted from him, and still he thrust into her, wanting that contact, that friction, while he emptied himself inside of her. They shuddered together, the orgasm never ending. She swayed in place and he pulled her down to his chest. She collapsed forward, whimpering.
“Rafe,” she whispered.
He trailed his fingertips through her sweat-dampened hair. “Teresa.”
That was it. Just their names. A warm, comfortable silence fell as their bodies cooled and their breathing and heart rates slowed to normal. She nuzzled her nose against his chest. “I’m getting cold.”
“Okay.” He stood up and set her on her feet. In under a minute, he had them divested of their damp clothes. Then he lifted her off her feet and walked to the bed.
Yawning catlike, she curled against him. “That was fun.”
“It was, but I’m betting you’re glad that Panthers heal when they sleep, or your ass would be stinging tomorrow.”
She chuckled. “So undignified for an heir to squirm.”
“Except when said heir is with me. Then she can act however she wants.” He settled them both in the bed and kissed the top of her head.
Cuddling against his side, she threw a leg over his thigh. Her hand stroked up and down his torso and he broke into a purr. He felt her lips curve in a little smile against his chest before she kissed his skin. Propping her chin on his shoulder, she met his gaze.
“What?” He rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers, then tucked it behind her ear.
She shook her head, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nothing. Just looking at you.”
“Well, then. Look as much as you want for as long as you want.” He ran the pad of his thumb over her high cheekbone. For a moment, he let himself envision being able to look at her, touch her, any time he wanted, as often as he wanted. It was an intoxicating thought. He, who’d never spent more than a few days or weeks with a lover who happened to catch his fancy, wanted to have the same woman. Over and over again. For years. Forever.
Just like he had her now, soft and warm and satisfied in his arms.
He could imagine coming home to her for the rest of his life, could see himself looking at her across a dinner table, could picture them as an old married couple, with her just as bullheaded as she was now. He wanted to be there for all of that.
The breath eased out of his lungs as he watched her drift to sleep. Yes. This was right. Having her was right. A bit of the disquiet that had plagued him for so long crumbled. He wasn’t sure where this road would end, but the journey was what mattered to him. Whatever issues they had, they could work them out. He’d found what he wanted, and he didn’t intend to let anything get in his way.
Not even her.