Page 12

I’m still wearing my bra and T-shirt. The light fabric is almost too much on my skin as the burn of the heat is getting worse. My body is heavy and in need.

I ache. The heat is demanding relief.

My one sexual experience was lacking in education. The one man I slept with was when I was twenty-four. I was a virgin until then. Being on the run with my mom didn’t give me many opportunities to explore that side of myself. After she died, I was too concerned about my next move to find a man.

I met Rex in a little town we had settled in. We had been there a month when he walked into the grocery store where I worked. He was sweet. He told me I was pretty, and I sucked up his attention. My mom warned me. She knew we would have to leave eventually, and she didn’t want me to get hurt. Of course, she also naturally distrusted anyone with a dick.

I didn’t listen. I wanted something normal for once in my life. I gave him my heart and my virginity. He took them gladly and then proceeded to break up with me after he got them. Shortly after, we left.

I hid my heart behind a wall bricks after that. I never got close to anyone again.

So, I am as close to a virgin as you can get, alone in a house with a cheetah I can’t deny is hot as fuck, and my mate.

I don’t know how to handle it. I wasn’t opposed to having a mate. I haven’t given it too much thought. The problem was that he would demand to know about my life. On one level, I’mashamed of it. It is anything but ordinary. On another, wouldn’t it be nice to share the burden?

I sit up and lean against the headboard as Elijah appears in the doorway. He’s wearing light, worn-out jeans with rips on the knees, and nothing else. His feet are bare, and his hair is messier than usual. He takes a drink of what I smell is coffee.

My mouth waters for several different reasons. As I mentioned before, he’s hot as fuck. I want to lick from his neck to the waistband of his low riding pants. He’s built but sleek, like the cats we are.

I also can’t live without coffee. If I were down to my last five dollars, which has happened numerous times, I would get coffee before food.

“Do you like coffee?” he asks, moving toward me.

“I love it.” My head tilts, keeping my eyes on his face as he stands over me.

“I thought that was what your look was about,” he teases. How does he know everything I am feeling? It’s very annoying. “Drink,” he instructs, bringing his cup to my mouth.

What can I do? I drink. “Sweet,” I murmur.

“I like sweet.” He takes the cup away and sits beside me. “How do you usually take it?”

“Just like that. I like sweet too.” I blush. Are we actually having this conversation? I don’t know how to handle him. All my usual defenses are frozen, staring at him in awe.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I say firmly. “You took my pants off.” I move on quickly, seeing the look of disbelief on his face. He can probably smell how not fine I am.

“I did. I thought you would be more comfortable without them.” He puts the coffee on the side table. He leans over my legs, bracing himself on his palm. “Are you feeling rested?”

He’s surrounding me. His yummy scent is even better coming from the source. He smells like leather and spice. “I am. I needed the sleep.”

“Are you sure you don’t need more sleep?” he asks suspiciously.

“Why?” I narrow my eyes.

“I’m just waiting for you to tear me to pieces. If you are rested, I assume you will lecture me.”

“I should,” I whisper.

We sit in thick silence, staring at each other. The warmth is becoming overwhelming. The longer I am around him, close to him, without his touch—the pain will come.

He lifts his free hand, watching me carefully, and cups the side of my neck. Without thought, I lean into it. God, I have missed the touch of another. The comfort it brings me cannot be denied.

He scoots closer so we are hip to hip. His other hand is so temptingly close to my bare skin. His thumb rubs back and forth on the front of my neck. I have the urge to press into it. I have always had the desire to let a man take over—the right man.

“You are beautiful, Kitty Cat,” he rasps.

His absurd nickname for me makes tingles spread deep inside. “Thank you.”