“Well, try harder,” he said gruffly.
His voice was thick and sexy, and another rush of heat slipped like fire through her veins. She liked that. Felipe was replaced by Elijah. Elijah seemed as if he was paying more attention to Conner than to her. Experimentally, she threw a series of light punches and kicks, determined to drive Elijah back. He didn’t retreat as he should have, but flicked his hand toward her with incredible speed. She could actually see the flow of his muscle, the firmness of his jaw, the sensual shape of his lips.
Flesh smacked flesh and she blinked. Conner’s open palm had captured Elijah’s fist just a scant inch from her face. “Isabeau,” he snapped between his teeth. “You aren’t trying.”
“I was. Really,” she protested. How was she supposed to concentrate when Elijah’s entire body seemed made of flowing muscle? It was poetic. And sexy. Hot. Downright hot.
Conner made a sound that bordered on a snarl. Elijah backed away from Isabeau, dropping his hands and shaking his head. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “I’m done here, Conner.”
Isabeau looked hopefully at Leonardo. Surely she could land a kick or two on him. The man looked as if he was terrified—going to his doom. That should tell Conner she was scaring the men.
Her body felt wonderful, very alive, every nerve ending sensitive and responsive. Every movement stretched her top taut over her peaking nipples, brushing them with the most delicious strokes, sending streaks of arousal dancing through her belly. When she moved with the sensuous flow of muscle, she was acutely aware of the mechanics of her body as she’d never been—of her own femininity and how perfectly wonderful jeans were, rubbing in all the right places when she picked up her leg to throw a kick.
Leonardo broke out in a sweat and abruptly dropped his hands, backing away from her as she glided closer. Conner stepped between them and caught her by the shoulders. “What exactly is that?”
“What?” She smiled at him dreamily. If she moved just a little closer to him, she could probably rub along his chest. She stepped into him.
“That noise. You’re purring,” he accused.
“Really? Am I?” She slid her body right up against his and rubbed her breasts along his chest, needing to leave her scent on him, enjoying the streaks of fire sizzling through her veins as her sensitive nipples tightened even more. “Did you know that you have the most amazing mouth?”
Rio made a noise somewhere between frustration and amusement. “This isn’t working, Conner. I think we’re going to work with Jeremiah’s shape-shifting for a while.” He pointed to a clearing a small distance away. “Over there.”
Conner turned his head to see the young leopard staring at Isabeau with a rapt look on his face, mouth open, nearly salivating. A soft hand inserted itself between Conner’s body and hers and rubbed the front of his jeans, right over his thick, aching groin, jerking his attention back to Isabeau. The purring had increased and her eyes had gone a little glazed. Swearing, he captured her wrists and yanked her hands to his chest, pinning them there. “Good idea,” he all but growled back. The kid needed distraction.
Isabeau’s cat needed to emerge soon or this wave had to be over before all the men went into some kind of snarling sexual frenzy. He could smell the testosterone rising. Things were going to hell fast. He needed to take control.
“You’re going to get someone killed,” he hissed at the cat.
He made the mistake of pulling Isabeau into his arms. All those soft curves melted into him. She leaned her face into his neck and licked. A delicate taste, her tongue like velvet stroking over his leaping pulse. His throbbing cock felt that tantalizing caress and jerked hard against the straining material of his jeans. Fire raced over his skin, burned into his bones, danced in his veins until he couldn’t think for the lust coursing through him.
“Come with me now.” He had the presence of mind to drag her into the trees, away from the sight of the others. She had no sense of self-preservation, going with him without a struggle, looking up at him with eyes drenched with desire.
His breath hissed out of his lungs and his mouth came down on hers before he had a chance to save them both. Temptation beat at him like a drum, pounding through his veins, through his cock—his entire nervous system inflamed—intoxicated—with her. He took her mouth with his own, long, drugging kisses until he couldn’t tell where he was anymore. Everything distanced, the trees, the brush, even the scent of the other men. There was only Isabeau, soft and warm, a siren dragging him deeper into her web of pleasure.
He’d been there before. Every bit of honor he possessed had gone up in flames once the taste of her had become an addiction—and it was starting all over again. He dragged his mouth from hers and stared down into her liquid eyes, fighting for breath, fighting his own needs.
“You have to get control, Isabeau.” His voice was hoarse. “Every man here is leopard. Do you have any idea of the havoc you’re wreaking?”
“I love your voice.” Her hands slipped under his shirt to find bare skin. “And your mouth. When you kiss it’s like fire spreading through me.”
Her voice was more seductive than anything he’d ever known, pouring over him, filling him, eating away his discipline. He closed his eyes briefly, attempting to remember how much trouble he’d gotten into before because he hadn’t been able to resist her lure—and she hadn’t had the added temptation of her cat emerging.
“Isabeau.” He gave her a little shake. It didn’t stop her wandering hands. “Look at me. You don’t want to do this. A few hours from now you’ll hate me even more than you already do. I let you down once and I’ll be damned if I do it again.”
Who the hell was he kidding? He didn’t have that kind of control. Not in a million years. He wanted her with every breath he drew. Not because of her cat, but because she was Isabeau Chandler, the woman he loved above all else. He dragged air into his lungs. He loved her and he knew the difference having been without her. He wasn’t going to let history repeat itself.
“Stop it, Isabeau.” His voice was harsher than he intended.
She went rigid, dropping her hands as if he’d burned her. She stepped back away from him. “I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable,” she said, her voice trembling. “We certainly wouldn’t want that, would we? The great Conner Vega. Funny how when seduction is your idea, there’s no problem.”
“Is that what you have in mind, Isabeau? Seduction? You’re playing with fire.”
She looked him up and down. “I doubt it. I don’t think there’s much left there.” Deliberately she turned and allowed her gaze to sweep the other males, open speculation on her face. “Sorry I bothered you.”
He caught her arm and swung her back to him when she would have walked away. “Don’t even think about it.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She looked at his hand and he let her go. She turned her back on him and walked away, her hips swaying, her hair a little wild, disheveled and tumbling around her face and down her back as if unknowingly he had loosened her ponytail. He didn’t remember doing it, but the feel of silk was still on the pads of his fingers.