The house was dark when they arrived, but neither switched on any lights. Catarina held herself away from him, averting her face as he reached past her to open the kitchen door. He stepped back to allow her inside.
“I’m going to take a bath,” she announced.
He wasn’t surprised. She spent a lot of time in the bathtub and he knew it was a form of escape. Not certain what to say, he simply nodded his head. He watched her go, his heart sinking. What kind of man was he? He clenched his teeth. He already knew. He’d made the decision almost the moment he laid eyes on Catarina. Some part of him recognized her and what she meant to him. She’d given herself to him, committed to their life together. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, that decision, but there was no real choice for her. No other choice.
He jerked open the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. He needed her. His body needed hers. He ached, and not from the run or their climb or the bag work. He ached because every muscle in his body felt cramped and tight. Catarina Benoit belonged to him and he wasn’t giving her up. Not even for all the right reasons, because, damn it all, he wasn’t a good man and truthfully, he fucking didn’t care.
He walked into the bedroom and glanced toward the master bath. The door was closed. The sound of water running was muffled. The scent of honeysuckle drifted from under the door to envelope him. Instantly the taste of her was on his tongue, in his mouth and his cock swelled alarmingly.
He’d waited for her to come to him. Was it really that damned hard? He’d been pressed up against her body every night. She couldn’t fail to read the signs, but not once had she made a move. Even her morning kisses were tentative and chaste. She wasn’t getting away with that crap anymore. He’d waited for her to make her move and tried to drive himself to exhaustion while he waited. She had his body – and him – in knots. He was done with being the nice guy.
He felt the edges of his temper expand. He was already in a foul mood. He stalked to the door and found it locked. His temper flared instantly, hot and violent. He didn’t knock. He didn’t ask her questions, he just kicked the door hard. The doorjamb broke instantly and the door flew open. He stepped inside.
She stood naked beside the tub, her hands over her head as she put her hair up. Startled, she spun around, her breasts swaying invitingly, her eyes wide with shock. “Eli?” Her teeth tugged at her lower lip.
“Don’t fucking lock that door again, you hear me?” He took a step toward her, his eyes blazing with fire. “Not now, not ever. I don’t give a damn how angry or upset you are, you don’t lock me out of any room you’re in.”
She didn’t flinch. She stood her ground. “I take it that’s another rule.”
“Damn straight it is, and you’d better remember it.”
“Perhaps you might tell me all the rules so I don’t keep making mistakes.”
He studied her face. Her brilliant cobalt eyes. “Are you being a smart-ass right now? Do you think that’s really wise?” It was difficult to judge her mood. More than anything she looked defiant. He didn’t do defiant very well and his leopard liked it even less. He forced the cat under control when it rose snarling and raking at him with demanding claws.
She shrugged and stepped into the tub. He was close enough to see the small shiver that ran through her body. She wasn’t nearly as sure of herself – or of him. He stepped close to her. Very close. Close enough for her to see the bulge straining against his trousers, but then she’d been seeing it every day for four long days and nights and she hadn’t done a damn thing about it.
“You’ve got twenty minutes and then I want you out of here. I’ll be on the kitchen porch. I want you to join me.”
“I’m tired. I thought I’d just go to bed.”
His gaze slashed her face. “I’m restraining myself here, Cat. Keep it up and you’re going to find yourself in trouble and believe me, baby, when I say you won’t like the trouble you’re getting into. Join me in twenty minutes and don’t be late.” He shoved the bottle of water at her. “And drink this. How many times do I have to fucking tell you to hydrate after working out?”
She took the bottle of water, her eyes searching his face. He kept his features hard. Implacable. No give. He wasn’t feeling like giving. He was feeling like taking. He’d had enough of waiting for her to come to him. She wasn’t going to do it, and unless he wanted to wait for her reluctant leopard to emerge, he was never going to have her soft body surrounding his with heat and fire. He turned and abruptly stormed out.
Catarina slowly twisted the cap off the water bottle, all the while keeping her gaze on the empty doorway. Her heart hammered too fast. Too hard. Too loud. Had he heard? She wouldn’t be surprised if he had and if he had, he hadn’t cared enough to do anything about it. The story of her life. She had planned a good long crying fest, a pity party right there in the bathtub.
Elijah just had to tell that horrible, humiliating story to Eli. She pressed the cool water bottle to her hot face. As a temptress, she was an utter failure. She had no idea how to entice Eli into touching her. She didn’t want to make the first move because she felt awkward.
Where was that hussy of a leopard when she needed her? Eli had all but retreated from her. He was angry, but she wasn’t certain why. She’d done everything he’d asked of her, no matter how difficult, no matter how tiring. She could only guess that he wanted her so tired he wouldn’t have to touch her. Now, after hearing what Elijah had said, he really wouldn’t want to touch her, but he needed sex all the time, so she was rather handy to have around.
Eli was nearly always hard around her. She couldn’t miss the state of his body, yet he hadn’t even tried to have sex with her, not even when they lay naked in bed together and his cock was pressed so tight against her. Was she really that awful? Or was it because the challenge was gone? She’d given herself to him and since then, he’d rejected her.
She drew her knees up tight against her chest. Eli had been bad-tempered, moody and even mean with her since that first morning after. She’d never been able to get Cordeau’s attention and as a child, she’d tried. She’d been desperate for someone, anyone at all to take an interest in her. He never had. She’d been cared for just the way he cared for the objects in his home. Now she had the same problem with Eli. She didn’t know how to get his attention.
Eli had used that voice, the one that made her shiver. The one that made her go hot. The one that always sent fire dancing between her legs. Did he know what that voice did to her? Did he realize just talking to her like that made her weak with need? She sighed and pressed her fingertips to her eyes.
She knew that these past four days she did what she always did when she didn’t know what to do. She retreated. Withdrew. Eli had let her. He’d acted almost disinterested in her. He was more worried about how fast she ran and how far. She hadn’t made one complaint, not one, no matter how sore she was or how bad it hurt when they were sparring. She had done every single thing he asked and she cooked the best meals she could think of. Still, that hadn’t been enough for him.
Eli had been in a foul mood every single day. She didn’t know what she’d done or what she was supposed to do. She just knew it wasn’t good enough. Nothing she did was good enough. She contemplated defying him, but it wasn’t worth the effort. She really was tired of it all. She just wanted to go to bed and pull the blankets over her head and just hide.
Catarina dried off slowly and pulled on one of Eli’s flannel shirts. At least she felt clean and alive again after their workout. She wandered into the kitchen. The dishes were still in the sink so she rinsed them and began to put them in the dishwasher.
“Kitten. Come here. Now.”
Catarina heard the rough in his voice. His sensual, sexy growl that always made her wet. Her body reacted with hunger. With anticipation. Excitement. At the same time, she was tired of being ordered around by a man who didn’t care enough to talk to her. To explain anything. She didn’t deserve his foul mood.
She wandered over to the screen, pushed it open with one hand and stood in the doorway looking at him. He sat in the shadows, in his favorite chair, his hair damp from his shower and his eyes all cat. And maybe that was the trouble. He was more leopard than man. “What is it you want from me, Eli?” she asked softly. “More sex? That seems to be all you want from me, but only when you want it. I don’t right now.”