Cat's Lair
Page 62
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“That’s all you, Catarina. Your body knows I’m here to stay. Let me back in, sweetheart. Take another chance on me.”
He kissed his way down the valley between her breasts, feeling her shiver again as the shadow on his face rasped against her sensitive skin.
“This isn’t okay, Eli.” Her hands curled around his shoulders and she pushed, without really exerting much effort.
“What, baby? What’s not okay?”
“This. You. This is different.” Fear crept into her voice.
He swept his hand down her body, his palm absorbing the warmth of her satin skin. Already there were dewdrops in the tight curls guarding treasure. He slipped his finger deep. She was tight. She was always tight. Sometimes, he thought he might not make it inside her she was so damn tight. But always, always, she was slick and hot and ready for him.
He nuzzled her breast gently, using the rough hairs along his jaw to stimulate her more. He loved the way her body was so responsive. He was the one drowning. He’d been so busy trying to convince her to fall for him, he hadn’t realized just how far he’d fallen. He couldn’t help himself.
He used both hands to shape her body, to slide over every lush curve and trace every rib along her narrow rib cage. She was his. All his. She might be afraid, and she might be on the verge of running, but when he had her under him, she belonged to him.
He should have taken her gently the first time. Like this. Like she feared he was doing. The rough, hard sex she could blame on their cats, but this, this was all them. The man. The woman. And it terrified her. He didn’t take his gaze from hers and her every emotion was there for him to see. Pain. Fear. Need. Even the beginnings of the love he’d seen before, there in the warehouse. That’s what scared her. That’s what had her hands pushing at his shoulders. She could take his orders. She could take his rough. She couldn’t handle sweet or gentle.
“Eli. This isn’t right,” she whispered again.
“This is exactly right, Cat. This is what you deserve. Slow and easy and loving.” He kissed his way back up to her mouth. A sweet, fantasy mouth that left him breathless and gave him one too many erotic images playing in his head all the time.
Her eyes went wide with shock and fear. She shook her head frantically. “I don’t want this.”
“Baby.” Gentle male amusement. He couldn’t help it. “You’re already wet and hot for me. What kind of man would I be to leave you like that?”
Panic spread in her eyes. She swallowed hard. “I know. It’s just that you can’t do it like this.”
He loved that about her too. Her soft little admission. “I know.” She didn’t think to deny her state to him. She simply admitted it without even blinking. And then her soft trembling. “You can’t do it like this.” It. She couldn’t say fuck and she wouldn’t say making love. And that was just it. He didn’t want to fuck her. He wanted to make love to her.
He kissed her. He loved her mouth and he loved kissing her. He poured love down her throat. His love. His rough, not so easy to live with, but all-encompassing love. He’d never given himself to a woman before and he never imagined he actually would. He had some stupid, lunatic idea that she would love him and he would cherish her. Care for her, but there would be some part of himself he would hold back. There was no holding back and he didn’t even know when it happened. He didn’t care. He kissed her with love. His love.
He knew she tasted it because he did. She drank it down her throat, let it settle in around her heart. He doubted she knew what it meant, or what it was going to change between them, but that didn’t matter either. He kissed her over and over, long, telling kisses that left him stripped bare, utterly naked and vulnerable to her. Showing her what she meant to him. Without words. He’d never been good talking, but he could use his mouth and his hands and his body to show her what she was to him.
She was everything. Her mouth moved under his. Accepting. Catching fire. Letting him take her in a kind of surrender. He persisted. He didn’t just want surrender. He wanted her. Catarina Benoit. The woman hiding inside a frightened girl. His little runaway. She’d been ripped from her childhood and exposed to a monster. And then when she’d taken a chance, opening herself up to him, Eli had betrayed her.
Baby, I’m taking you back. I want your heart and this time, I’ll safeguard it for you, I promise.
He poured his promise down her throat and into her body as well, along with his love. He stopped being so gentle with his kisses the moment she responded, the moment she began actively participating in kissing him back. She’d never really kissed him back. Not like this, not moving her body deeper beneath his, her hands sliding around his neck, fingers finding his hair. Her tongue slid along his, danced and dueled, made her own demands.
She lit up for him like a flame. He’d lit the match and she caught fire. Heat swept through his body, turning him rock hard. It wasn’t just his cock she affected, it was his entire body. He could feel his need for her in every cell, each individual muscle. His heart pounded and thunder roared in his ears. He could feel the hot blood pumping through his veins, roaring like his leopard did when it was demanding his mate.
This was all the man, not the feral cat. This was all Eli, needing Catarina. Loving her. He took his time, kissing her, making an art of it, feeding on the taste of her, committing the shape and feel of her to memory. Her lips were soft, warm, nearly indescribable for him. He was a tactile man and he loved running his tongue over her lips and tugging on her full lower lip. Little nips. Little bites. God she was gorgeous.
He kissed his way down the valley between her breasts, feeling her shiver again as the shadow on his face rasped against her sensitive skin.
“This isn’t okay, Eli.” Her hands curled around his shoulders and she pushed, without really exerting much effort.
“What, baby? What’s not okay?”
“This. You. This is different.” Fear crept into her voice.
He swept his hand down her body, his palm absorbing the warmth of her satin skin. Already there were dewdrops in the tight curls guarding treasure. He slipped his finger deep. She was tight. She was always tight. Sometimes, he thought he might not make it inside her she was so damn tight. But always, always, she was slick and hot and ready for him.
He nuzzled her breast gently, using the rough hairs along his jaw to stimulate her more. He loved the way her body was so responsive. He was the one drowning. He’d been so busy trying to convince her to fall for him, he hadn’t realized just how far he’d fallen. He couldn’t help himself.
He used both hands to shape her body, to slide over every lush curve and trace every rib along her narrow rib cage. She was his. All his. She might be afraid, and she might be on the verge of running, but when he had her under him, she belonged to him.
He should have taken her gently the first time. Like this. Like she feared he was doing. The rough, hard sex she could blame on their cats, but this, this was all them. The man. The woman. And it terrified her. He didn’t take his gaze from hers and her every emotion was there for him to see. Pain. Fear. Need. Even the beginnings of the love he’d seen before, there in the warehouse. That’s what scared her. That’s what had her hands pushing at his shoulders. She could take his orders. She could take his rough. She couldn’t handle sweet or gentle.
“Eli. This isn’t right,” she whispered again.
“This is exactly right, Cat. This is what you deserve. Slow and easy and loving.” He kissed his way back up to her mouth. A sweet, fantasy mouth that left him breathless and gave him one too many erotic images playing in his head all the time.
Her eyes went wide with shock and fear. She shook her head frantically. “I don’t want this.”
“Baby.” Gentle male amusement. He couldn’t help it. “You’re already wet and hot for me. What kind of man would I be to leave you like that?”
Panic spread in her eyes. She swallowed hard. “I know. It’s just that you can’t do it like this.”
He loved that about her too. Her soft little admission. “I know.” She didn’t think to deny her state to him. She simply admitted it without even blinking. And then her soft trembling. “You can’t do it like this.” It. She couldn’t say fuck and she wouldn’t say making love. And that was just it. He didn’t want to fuck her. He wanted to make love to her.
He kissed her. He loved her mouth and he loved kissing her. He poured love down her throat. His love. His rough, not so easy to live with, but all-encompassing love. He’d never given himself to a woman before and he never imagined he actually would. He had some stupid, lunatic idea that she would love him and he would cherish her. Care for her, but there would be some part of himself he would hold back. There was no holding back and he didn’t even know when it happened. He didn’t care. He kissed her with love. His love.
He knew she tasted it because he did. She drank it down her throat, let it settle in around her heart. He doubted she knew what it meant, or what it was going to change between them, but that didn’t matter either. He kissed her over and over, long, telling kisses that left him stripped bare, utterly naked and vulnerable to her. Showing her what she meant to him. Without words. He’d never been good talking, but he could use his mouth and his hands and his body to show her what she was to him.
She was everything. Her mouth moved under his. Accepting. Catching fire. Letting him take her in a kind of surrender. He persisted. He didn’t just want surrender. He wanted her. Catarina Benoit. The woman hiding inside a frightened girl. His little runaway. She’d been ripped from her childhood and exposed to a monster. And then when she’d taken a chance, opening herself up to him, Eli had betrayed her.
Baby, I’m taking you back. I want your heart and this time, I’ll safeguard it for you, I promise.
He poured his promise down her throat and into her body as well, along with his love. He stopped being so gentle with his kisses the moment she responded, the moment she began actively participating in kissing him back. She’d never really kissed him back. Not like this, not moving her body deeper beneath his, her hands sliding around his neck, fingers finding his hair. Her tongue slid along his, danced and dueled, made her own demands.
She lit up for him like a flame. He’d lit the match and she caught fire. Heat swept through his body, turning him rock hard. It wasn’t just his cock she affected, it was his entire body. He could feel his need for her in every cell, each individual muscle. His heart pounded and thunder roared in his ears. He could feel the hot blood pumping through his veins, roaring like his leopard did when it was demanding his mate.
This was all the man, not the feral cat. This was all Eli, needing Catarina. Loving her. He took his time, kissing her, making an art of it, feeding on the taste of her, committing the shape and feel of her to memory. Her lips were soft, warm, nearly indescribable for him. He was a tactile man and he loved running his tongue over her lips and tugging on her full lower lip. Little nips. Little bites. God she was gorgeous.
