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Hours after my initial awakening, my mind is fully clear of whatever drug he administered, and I feel less prone to panic. As I approach the walk-in shower, I aim to put on a good show for him. Chin in the air, I gather the skirt of my nightgown, preparing to pull it off over my head.
“Damn.” I’ve barely gone a step when his voice rings out behind me, thick with approval. Before I can even think to turn, I sense him behind me. What feels like a finger grazes the flesh of my lower back, coming dangerously close to a healing wound.
Dios mió, the things this man arouses in me. Electricity prickles beneath my skin, ignited by the harsh, steady sound of his breathing.
“Your back is healing nicely, chica,” he remarks, fingering a path toward my ass. Right before contacting that particular part of my body, he withdraws. “Though, I think I will miss those marks when they finally fade. A pity.”
Sucking in a breath, I step behind a wall of glass and pretend that it provides more than a temporary barrier between us. As long as I’m hidden here, he can’t touch me.
“You could always get your own to admire,” I manage to choke out while stripping the nightgown completely. My fingers shake as I toss it aside and turn on the water. It pours from an overhead faucet, deliciously hot. As my muscles relax beneath the spray, I hunt for a washcloth and find one on a shelf built into the wall, just beyond the water’s reach, along with a bottle of bodywash.
“Oh?” Jaguar asks, his voice rumbling.
“Yes,” I say, biting my lip as my brain taunts me with a mental image of him adorned in claw marks. “Either a tattoo or the real deal. Both would look magnificent on your body, and I’m sure your Gatita is always eager to make new art.”
“Ah, but I much prefer to view such designs on you, Lupe. Why should my kitty have all the fun? Next time, I might be the one to paint that beautiful body in red.”
I glance over and spy his shadow in the doorway. Damn him.
“Where did you get your kitty, anyway?” I ask him while wrestling with the cap of the bottle. I can’t get the damn thing open, and I nearly drop it as I try. “I doubt you found her at the typical animal rescue.”
“Oh no, she’s imported.” A rare note of pride slips into his voice, softening the gruff baritone. It’s clear already just how much genuine love he has for the creature. “Straight from the jungle. She was already four when she came here and spicy as hell. Much like you, in fact. It was a battle to tame my girl, I will admit, but well worth it in the end. She is a companion unlike any other.”
“And I’m sure you lavish affection on her,” I say, hating how my voice trembles in comparison to his.
“Affection, yes. But what is true love without discipline? Respect in any relationship must be earned through proven loyalty—” Above the rushing water, I hear a hiss of fabric, as though he’s shed his clothing and tossed it aside. Shirt first. Then the heavier material of his pants.
I hate my brain for how it skips ahead, envisioning the sculpted body left bare.Damn it.My heart races with every telltale noise, and I nearly drop the bottle of bodywash again. Gripping it tightly, I force myself to ask, “And how did you do that?”
“What a question.” He issues a rasping chuckle I feel resonate down to my core. I’m suddenly aware of how vulnerable I am with my back to him, my naked body on display. I can only imagine his expression—teeth bared, tongue sliding along his lower lip as he takes in the healing wounds he loves so much. “How else does one break a beautiful, strong-willed creature? With patience, of course, and a firm hand. I bought my baby from a dealer who used shipments of animals to smuggle his illicit goods. My Gatita would have been destined for a life mounted on his wall if I didn’t bargain for her. One could say that I saved her from a dangerous man who saw her only as a trophy. Sheneededme. Sound familiar?”
His mocking inflection makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.Careful, Pita.I risk remaining silent for the few precious seconds it takes to wrestle my expression into submission. I can’t let him see my fear—andDios mío, am I afraid. Our dynamic has shifted with Franco’s arrival.
No longer is this a game with only my life at stake.
“A beautiful story,” I say once I regain control of my breathing.
“That’s all? You’ve been so quiet this morning, Lupe. Don’t tell me you’ve grown shy all of a sudden,” Jaguar taunts amid the thud of an advancing footstep. “I’m starting to miss your spicy tongue.”
“How long do you plan on staying away from your harem?” I ask him, forcing a casual playfulness into my voice. I think I fail at it. “I’m sure they’re starting to miss you. I’d hate to bore you. One woman alone certainly can’t contain such a healthy sexual appetite.”
I’m pleased with myself, convinced I’m saying all the right things.
When I peek over my shoulder, his face is in shadow. His body, however, is on stark display—rippling muscle adorned with indigo tattoos that continue beneath the waistband of his boxers.
He takes his time, hooking his thumb around the elastic. Then our eyes meet as he slowly lets the material fall.
I can’t help myself, tearing my gaze away to track the fabric’s descent.
My imagination hadn’t come close. His cock is already stirring to life from beneath a thatch of dark hair, every bit as imposing as his beloved feline. The flesh seems to tighten more every second I gape, as if he’s loving my slack-jawed response. Suddenly, he cups the shaft as I watch, wielding that part of himself like a weapon he’s aching to use.
I blame biology alone for how my body reacts to the display—my nipples tighten, and it’s ten times harder to breathe. An ache builds between my legs that I try my damn hardest to ignore.
“You seem very eager for me to fly back to my harem,” he remarks, and I swear I can feel his gaze tracking the way I press my knees together. “After riding my cock, so desperate to get your son, once you have him in your grasp, it seems you have no use for me after all.”
He’s right. But wasn’t that how this was always supposed to work? I’d debase myself for a taste of his power and influence. He’d toss me a few crumbs, and then bore of me.
Tit for tat. Before this mess began, Pedro said I wouldn’t last a week, and thank the heavens we’re already past that unofficial deadline.
