Wild Fire(36)

Everyone ignored her. Jeremiah sucked in his breath. Those lethal claws were far too close to the most precious part of his body, and Conner looked mean enough to rip body parts off.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Jeremiah protested, realizing his mistake too late. Cats were notoriously bad-tempered with men around their mates, especially if the mate was close to a heat. He realized none of the other men had gone near Isabeau.

“What exactly did you mean?” Conner bit out.

Isabeau was very aware of the other men moving in now, presumably to save Jeremiah should it be necessary. Suddenly the situation was no longer about her. Jeremiah was in real danger from a man who had earlier rejected her advances. Whatever was driving him was real and dangerous.

She stepped close to Conner and put her hand on his arm. She could feel the steel and adrenaline running through him like a river of fire. She was beginning to understand the terrible toll of the leopard on the men. The cat’s laws were impossible for the man to ignore. They always walked a fine line when it came to their animal traits.

“I-I meant that was a great time Felipe had, and I need to work much harder if I’m going to even come close to that,” Jeremiah stammered.

“I bumped him,” Isabeau pointed out. “Please, Conner, I’m asking you.”

Conner stood for a moment, his body fighting to rid itself of adrenaline and then abruptly he turned, his arm sweeping around her, forcing her away from the other leopard, his head close to hers so his lips could brush against her ear. “That was him getting aroused by your scent. His first damn mistake.”

He took her deep into the rain forest, away from the others and the scent of aroused male that drove his cat—and him—insane.

She blushed a bright crimson. How could she not? She wasn’t used to discussing anything having to do with sex in a casual setting, and the way these men treated nudity and the heat of a female cat bordered on the mundane. It wasn’t offensive, exactly, it was just a little disturbing to know that all of them could tell she was entering into some sort of a cycle. Not just that they could tell—more than that—they were all hyper-aware of it.

“I hope it was more than my scent,” Isabeau said, trying to lighten the moment, but meaning it all the same. “I don’t want to be wanted because of the way I smell.”

He inhaled deeply, deliberately taking her fragrance into his lungs. She could send flames leaping in his blood without even trying, but right now, with her innocent frown and the long sweep of her lashes, he could barely keep his hunger in check. “Scent is important to cats.” He rubbed his face against the bare skin of her neck. “So is scent marking. Any man stupid enough to cross into my territory is going to have a fight on his hands.”

She jerked away from him. “I used to be your territory. Back when you were someone else, remember?”

“I remember every moment.” His golden eyes burned deep into hers. “Do you?”

She bit back a retort. She was not going to fight with him. He could reduce her to tears in seconds. She was no match for him—she never had been. “You can’t do this, Conner. You don’t want me, but you’re going to kill anyone else who does? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“I don’t want you?” He bit the words out, a growl rumbling in his chest. His fingers tightened on her upper arms and he drew her tight against his body, deliberately letting her feel his thick arousal. “Want is an insipid word, Isabeau, for what I feel for you. I’m not going to blow it with you because I can’t keep my hands off of you. That happened once and I’ll be damned if it will happen again.”

“You couldn’t keep your hands off of me?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know that. I knew better. Seducing a woman doesn’t always involve taking them to bed. I couldn’t stop myself, and look what my lack of control did to us.” For a moment there was naked pain on his face. “It was bad enough knowing I’d betrayed you, but to find out that before her death my mother knew what I’d done . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. The mask—and resolve—slipped back into place. “When I take you to bed it will be because you want us there, not because your cat is screaming for relief.”

She flushed all over again, but her pride didn’t matter as much as his words. She held them close to her heart, for the first time feeling as if her mixed up world could come right again. Was it only her cat that wanted him? She didn’t think so, but she wasn’t sure, and Conner was right, she had to be certain. It made things easier knowing he hadn’t totally rejected her.

His hands framed her face, his thumb sliding over her lips as his gaze burned into hers. “You’re mine, Isabeau. You’ll always be mine. Make no mistake about it. Whether you choose to forgive me and give us a second chance, or you don’t, you’ll be my only.”

Her heart stopped. Just stopped. She could feel it there in her chest, twisting tight and then beginning a frantic pounding. For once her cat stayed quiet and she was allowed that perfect moment. She looked up into his face, a face that was etched forever into her mind—into her soul—and knew she was lost all over again. “Why didn’t you come after me?” That had hurt more than she could say.

“I made up my mind to come,” he admitted. “Six months ago. I knew I had to try to explain when I really had no excuse. I had a job to do, Isabeau, and the moment I realized I was slipping, taking us both in too deep, I should have shut it down. I’d like to say I didn’t because the kidnap victims mattered so much to me, but I’ve thought a lot about that and it isn’t the truth. Once I was with you, once I had gone over the line, there was no going back for me. I couldn’t find the strength to do the right thing and give you up.”

His words were stark. Raw. And they were truth. She saw it in his burning eyes, heard it in his velvet voice and smelled it with a leopard’s acute sensory system. She could only stare at him, trying not to let the happiness blossoming in the pit of her stomach and spreading throughout her body with absolute joy show on her face. Her tongue touched her lower lip and instantly his gaze was there, following the small movement.

She held still. Absolutely still. She even held her breath. He’d rejected her advances earlier—she wasn’t making a fool of herself a second time, even when he’d assured her their time together hadn’t all been a lie. The truth washed over her and into her, bringing such relief her legs trembled. Or maybe it was arousal teasing along her thighs and sending her temperature soaring.

He lowered his head. Slowly. Waiting for her reaction. She stood still beneath his hands, watching his gaze drift possessively over her face. Watching the way his eyes changed, going leopard, blazing with hunger. His mouth was everything. Seductive. Heart-stopping. Perfect. And then his lips touched hers. A mere brush. Her stomach flipped. Her womb clenched. Liquid heat gathered. His mouth moved again over hers, a small back and forth movement designed to tempt her—to drive her wild. And it did.

Her breasts ached, nipples peaking into two tight buds, straining against the material of her shirt in an effort to get closer to his heat. His tongue licked her lower lip. Savoring her taste. His teeth nipped, and the bite of pain sent another spasm crashing through her core. He made a sound, a low growl in his throat that drenched her immediately in need.

“I missed you every single second,” he whispered. “I dreamt of you when I could close my eyes and most of the time I couldn’t sleep with needing you.”

He kissed her, a long, drugging kiss that intoxicated every one of her senses. When he pulled away, it was to press his forehead against hers as he drew in a harsh breath. “I love the sound of your laughter. You taught me so many things, Isabeau, about what matters. When you find everything and then lose it . . .”

His mouth found hers again, over and over, each kiss more demanding than the last, more filled with hunger, so that he was nearly devouring her, sweeping her away on a tidal wave of desire. He’d always been able to do that, remove every vestige of sanity so that she was no thinking person, but a creature of pure feeling. She’d never known she could be passionate or sexy until Conner had come into her life, and everything had changed—she had changed.

His fingers bunched in her hair, pulling her head back, anchoring her in place, while his gaze burned a brand over her. Lines of passion etched deep in his face, dark lust glittered in his eyes. Her heart jumped. Another rush of heat spread like liquid fire. Her knees went weak. She’d always been susceptible to his sensual appetites, but now his hunger was a drumbeat in her veins.