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Cat Got Ya Tongue
“Highlandcharm,myarse,” Anita muttered before she could think better of her outburst.
“You’re frightened of the possibilities between us, which is why you keep pushing me away. Who hurt you in the past? Your husband?”
Anita spluttered. The arrogant, no-good wolf. How could he sit there and pretend he didn’t recall his rejection? Was it any wonder she wanted to leap from her skin? It was a constant war with her feline because now that they’d reencountered Rory, all she wanted was to jump him and seduce the too handsome, too arrogant, too sexy Scotsman.
“Cat got ya tongue?”
Anita’s temper flared, and she pounced before her brain slotted into gear. Rory fell back with an oomph, and she landed on top of him. Seconds later, she ground her mouth against his until she caught a hint of blood. It was the coppery flavor on her tongue that shoved sense back, and she retreated.
Rory pressed a finger to his mouth and dabbed at the blood. “Wow, if that’s how you operate, it’s no wonder you’re still single.”
“Oh, you…you…”
“I’ll show you how it’s done,” he said, his eyes gleaming.
An instant later, she was flat on her back with Rory looming over her. He stared down at her, and the humor in his features just pissed her off. She attempted to wriggle free, but he lowered his head and caressed her lips with his. It was a slight contact, but a powerful one and every scrap of fight seeped from her. Once she relaxed beneath him, he deepened the kiss, taking it into sensual territory. Mouths caressed and tasted. Tongues touched and explored, and throughout it all, one truth battered her over the head.
He was her destined mate, but how could they have a future when he’d rejected her?
The anxiety returned and faded, chased away by the stroke of his callused finger, delicately stroking her cheek. His touch sizzled clear to her toes, frisking over parts in between and leaving her craving more of his decadent contact. The man had skills, and she groaned, twisting beneath him until their bodies aligned perfectly.
Rory rubbed his nose against hers. She inhaled the scent of the soap he’d used in the shower and his underlying wolf. It was like catnip—a dangerous drug she couldn’t escape, not now that they’d kissed.
“I suspected our coming together would be spectacular,” he whispered, seconds before he kissed her again. Their legs tangled, and Rory took greater liberties.
Huh! Not that she tried to stop him. She’d turned into putty in his experienced hands, more turned on than she’d ever been with her husband.
He cupped her face with his big, work-rough palms and teased her lips before he began his seductive plundering. He devoured her mouth while his hands wandered lower.
Before she knew it, the buttons on her cotton blouse were open, baring the swells of her breasts to his gaze. His appreciative gaze. The wolf wasn’t shy about showing her his desire, and the easy way he played her body and turned her molten with lust didn’t go unnoted. His prior experience. A flash of jealousy darted her before Rory offered distraction with the nibble of teeth. He mouthed the mating site, that fleshy pad at the base of her shoulder. A tingle spread from that point and consumed her. She groaned, the first genuine sound she’d made.
He lifted his head immediately. “Ah, I’d wondered if I’d receive a verbal reaction.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“Have I proved we have a bond between us and our shifter halves want each other? Or do I need to go further?”
Yes, please. She stared at him, lost in his beautiful eyes, before Rory’s soft chuckle jerked her back. “No, point proven. I’m hungry. Could we eat?”
He studied her for a beat longer before pushing away from her heated, sensitized body. An immediate protest formed on her lips, and she struggled to silence her feline and the urge to grip his shoulders and haul him back against her. The lack of contact had her fingers twitching and a shudder tap-dancing down her spine. No! It wasn’t meant to happen like this.
“I’m returning to New Zealand after the gathering.” Her words were those of a sulky child with something to prove.
“I understand.” His voice was even, and she failed to read him.
Enigmatic Rory.
He opened the basket again to peruse the contents. “Ah, we have smoked salmon sandwiches, according to the label. And a bottle of wine. Would you like a glass?” He peered at the label. “New Zealand sauvignon blanc. A taste of home for you.”
“Is it a Marlborough wine?”
“You’re in luck.” Rory busied himself opening the wine while Anita unwrapped the parcel of sandwiches and selected one. The saltiness of the salmon contrasted with a citrus tang as she bit into the granary bread. Delicious.
Aware of the pulsing silence, Anita swallowed the last bite and cast her mind for something to say. “Why do you want to kiss me?” Not quite the topic she wanted. It’d lead to more awkward questions.
He glanced at her, a furrow between his brows. “Why wouldn’t I? That’s the better question. You’re smart and sexy and not a kid. You have life experience, you’re gorgeous, and my wolf wants you. I’m in step with my beast on this. I desire you, too. Are those enough reasons?”
