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I should have listened to my gut and gone downstairs to get the phone. Sean in my studio was dangerous. He seemed to fill the small space with his broad shoulders and tall frame. He had beard stubble and he was wearing a flannel shirt with jeans that looked like they had been tailored to fit his muscular thighs. I could smell him. He smelled like rain and something earthier. Man. He smelled like man.
“Need?” he asked. “Or want?”
But then he seemed to come to his senses and he took a step back.
Unfortunately, he stepped on Scott’s tail, who had come to see what kind of human shenanigans were going on and if he approved of them. Scott let out a howl. Sean swore and jerked to the side, off-balance, flailing his arms. Scott followed up the howl with a hiss and promptly let out his claws.
On Sean’s leg. Right through his jeans.
He just latched on and climbed Sean’s leg like a tree, hissing and spitting the whole time.
“What the fuck?” Sean tried to kick his leg out but Scott clung like a burr.
“Stop! It’s just my cat, I’ll get him. Stop kicking!” Concerned about Scott’s safety, I reached out and tried to haul him off but he dug in.
Sean roared. “That fucking hurts, Isla! Get him off me.”
Something about his outraged growl gave me the giggles. Not exactly an appropriate reaction but I couldn’t help it. I tugged harder on Scott to no avail.
“This isn’t funny!”
“I know, I’m sorry! I don’t mean to laugh.” I reached out and disengaged Scott’s claws from the denim. At first, he dug right back in but then I figured out how to yank, then twist his body, before unhooking the other paw.
Of course, I caught some back paw swipes on my bare arms, but they were more rabbit thumps than full-out scratching. My galley kitchen had a French door, which I had thought was odd when I first moved in, but had quickly learned served its purpose when a cat is determined to demand food from a sleeping human at four in the morning. I did now what I did then. I set him in the kitchen and closed the door before he could scramble back out. When I turned back, Sean was sitting on my bed, rubbing at his calf.
“That cat is evil,” he said.
“That cat doesn’t like men. He was protecting me.”
“He’s a dick.”
I was too entertained to be offended. “Don’t be a baby. It can’t hurt that bad.”
“It does,” he said, sounding very surly.
I pressed my lips together to prevent smiling. “Do you want to show me? I can get you a bandage.” I looked at his jeans. “Oh, wait, your skinny jeans are too tight to roll them up.”
“They’re not skinny jeans. I beg your fucking pardon. These are straight leg, slim fit. Very expensive, very on trend.”
His defensiveness amused me. “I stand corrected. Your straight leg, slim fit jeans are too tight to roll them up. Can I offer you a to-go bandage?” I stood in front of him, hands on my hips, hating that I was very conscious of the fact that he was sitting on my bed.
“Isla, you’re bleeding,” Sean said. He pointed to my forearm. “Are you okay?”
I glanced down. I had a scratch. A narrow ribbon of blood streaked the skin. It stung a little but not noteworthy. “I guess I got caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage. Scott doesn’t like men.”
“Your cat’s name is Scott?” Sean stood up and crossed the room. He disappeared into my bathroom.
Before I could answer or ask what he was doing, he had returned with a towel in his hand. “Sit down.”
I obeyed, for whatever reason. It must have been because I’d just spent the week listening to him bark orders at everyone in the kitchen. He hadn’t bossed me around, but he still had a commanding voice and presence and him being in my apartment was unnerving. Without question, I just plopped my butt down on the bed.
I realized the towel was damp. He sat down next to me and cleaned my scratch. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he wiped away the blood. He was concentrating on my cut, which really wasn’t a big deal, and not looking at me. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. The mattress was sinking slightly from our weight and I was very aware of how long it had been since I’d had a man in my apartment. Too long. Sean seemed to fill the space entirely, his arm brushing mine, his thigh pressed against the bare skin of my leg. I wasn’t wearing a bra and his proximity made my nipples tighten.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to pull away. “Thank you. I think you took the brunt of it.”
When Sean looked up and met my gaze, I knew I was fucked. Literally.
His pale green eyes were filled with desire.
