The Catalyst (a paranormal romance: Preternaturals Book 3) Page 12

  Maybe she could be more brave after this. Couldn’t he just be her first without attaching expectations to it? He didn’t have to be the one. He didn’t have to be noble and wonderful or father material or husband material. All he had to be was an experience. She wasn’t a teenager. She could handle this.

  The sound of the shower startled her out of the mental cheerleading. Fiona was off the couch before she realized she’d moved. She wouldn’t let herself think about what she was doing. This might be her one opportunity before she ended up back in her cottage watching men on TV. Was that what she wanted? To sit around her house alone, regretting how close she’d come to primal maleness and having a normal life experience, only to let it slip away?

  This was a normal thing. And it was just down the hall. Well… a couple of steps away behind a door. The door creaked open when she turned the knob, and Fiona winced at the sound. She couldn’t walk away without him knowing she’d been there.

  Z’s head popped out from around the shower curtain. His eyes glowed golden, and his nostrils flared.

  She stood mere inches from him. “I thought you said I smelled bad.” From the look in his eyes and the way he was sniffing the air, the opposite was the case.

  “I said we both needed a shower. Besides, the other smell is overpowering the smell from the woods. Ditch the clothes and get in here.”

  Definitely not a romantic. What the hell am I doing? Was she going to let some cave-dwelling cretin bark non-romantic orders at her? Shouldn’t he at least make some minor effort? Like she mattered in some miniscule way? For the moment she forgot about the fact that when it was between the pup and her, he’d chosen her. He’d risked his life for hers. That was the classic romance hero, swooping in all righteous to save the day. It was every movie she’d ever watched. But that moment had passed. Now they were left with this one. And somehow she doubted this was what happened later behind closed doors in those stories.

  “This was a mistake.” Fiona turned to leave.

  “Oh no you don’t. That was the last flip-flop you pulled on me.” With one arm he reached out and pulled her into the shower with him, fully clothed.

  Z backed her against the shower wall opposite from where the water sprayed down, his searing kisses stealing the protests from her mouth. Fiona gripped his shoulders—the only solid thing to hold onto in there. The rest was slippery, wet tile.

  He wrapped one arm around her, pulling her flush against him, and propped the other against the wall over her head.

  “Fiona… you’re playing with fire with me.”

  “Hey, you pulled me in here!” Her clothes were sticking to her. Jeans and wet T-shirt. She wasn’t prepared to be so close to him in such good lighting with no clothes on, but soaked clothes clinging to her every curve wasn’t comfortable, either.

  Z pulled the shirt over her head, wrung it out and tossed it out on the floor. Then his fingers hooked into the front of her pants. Fiona’s stomach clenched in excitement and fear at his fingers being so close to such an intimate place. No man’s hand had been that close before. She sucked in a breath and looked away.

  The energy around him shifted, and then his hand was stroking her face and the side of her neck. She couldn’t help arching toward him.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice going gentle, “we both need a shower. That’s all we have to do here.”

  She chanced a glance at his eyes. “Okay.” Sure, they’d pretend this was about hygiene and being conservationists. Two people. One shower. It was good for the environment. Now to collect her ecology merit badge.

  He went back to the jeans, fumbling with the two buttons at the top, then with help from her and a lot of frustrated cursing, he peeled them off. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You’ve got nothing to hide from me,” he said, taking her hands in his.

  She tried not to think of his long list of conquests. As if he could read her mind—and how big of a mystery could her thoughts be under the circumstances—he said, “Believe me. They don’t hold a candle to you.”

  It was a line, but she couldn’t help falling for it, because right now she needed to hear it and believe in it. If she was going to keep doing this normal thing that grown women who aren’t afraid to leave their houses do, if she was going to have this one moment where she pretended she was one of those normal women, one who didn’t have powers she was afraid of and phobias about being outside, then she needed to hear the line and be the stupid girl who believed it. Because that was normal, too.

  The cave was small and closed in and protected. Z could protect her. She could exist in this tiny, safe world with him. The trouble was, would he want her here tomorrow after he’d scratched his itch? Z’s cave had become the new safe base, but there were no guarantees she’d be allowed to stay. How was she going to function if she had to leave?

  His hands moved to her back to unclasp her bra, then it joined the rest of her clothes.

  “Give me some sign you’re in this with me,” he said.

  Fiona felt her face heat, and it wasn’t from the steam of the shower. She pushed her panties down over her hips and stepped out of them, then she tossed them out onto the floor with the rest of her clothing.

  He nodded his approval. To his credit he didn’t stand there and gawk too long, nor did he do anything else to make her uncomfortable. Instead, he grabbed the bar soap. It was a masculine-scented deodorant soap that smelled like him.

  He worked up a lather, and then his soapy hands were on her. Fiona couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips. He wasn’t touching her anywhere intimate yet. It was her shoulders, and her arms, but there could be no separation of safe zones and unsafe zones when naked in a shower with him. All those lines and boundaries dissolved away, leaving two aroused adults with nothing stopping them but scruples. What were those again?

  She couldn’t pretend this was just an exercise in hygiene. She wasn’t that innocent. It was an exercise in foreplay. He led her down his path of seduction, and she followed without even a weak whimper of protest.

  He turned her around and placed her hands on the tile, one on either side of her face. She leaned forward, her forearms resting against the shower wall as he soaped up her back. Z’s hands wrapped around her waist, moving over her belly.

  This is really happening. Of course it’s happening, you head case. Naked in a shower with a werepanther. Did you think he’d stand in his corner and you’d stand in yours?

  Fiona tried to shut off the inane mental commentary.

  Z’s voice rumbled over her. “Relax. Don’t think so much.”

  “How do you know I’m thinking?”

  “Because your jaw is set like you’re being tortured in an inquisition, and every muscle in your body is so tense I’m surprised you haven’t strained something.” He was quiet for a moment. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

  Fiona spun to face him, almost losing her balance in the process. She grabbed his arm for support. “Now who’s flip-flopping? If you think you’re getting me all naked and vulnerable in a shower, then rejecting me, you are out of your mind.” She hooked one hand around the back of his neck, and without thinking, pulled him to her, her mouth crashing against his.

  She was tired of playing the lamb to his wolf. He growled as his hands roamed over her ass. Or maybe she wasn’t tired of it. But she was tired of pretending it was awful.

  Z shut off the water and abruptly got out.

  Fiona stood dazed, trying to figure out what had just happened. But the next minute a towel was wrapped around her, and he carried her to the bedroom. He tossed her on the bed and shut the door like he thought they’d be interrupted otherwise.

  “Tell me now if we’re doing this or not. This is your last chance to back out. I mean, no pressure, but I keep telling you the wild animal thing. Past a certain point I don’t have the ability to stop. I need you to understand that. You know what I am.”

  There were drops of water coming off his hair and rolling down h
is body. She licked her lips. Yes, she knew what he was. Over six feet of raw, primal male power. Tight muscles that had pressed against her in the shower, strong hands that had killed a man to protect her—but had been nothing but gentle when they touched her, a kiss that lived up to his caveman reputation and then some. She was never getting a better opportunity than this.

  Fiona laid back against the pillows like some fainting damsel. “I understand. Do what you have to do.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you being smart?”

  “Maybe.”

  Z joined her on the bed. She was surprised when he spooned with her. She hadn’t thought of him as the cuddling type, and right after his big warning, she hadn’t expected another tender gesture.

  “Before we do anything, you’re going to relax. If you’re not relaxed, I’m not doing this. It’ll hurt you too much, and I’m not an ogre. So we’re going to work on that, yeah?”

  “Okay. Although… you did chloroform me,” she pointed out helpfully.

  Z smacked her ass. Before she could get indignant about it, he rubbed over the mark she was sure he’d made. She settled against him, letting go as he kneaded the tension from her body. Then a sound started, and she felt a vibration against her back.

  “Are you purring?”

  “I’m a big cat. It’s a thing. Be quiet and let me take care of you.”

  Fiona had to work to stifle the giggle bubbling out. His hand moved between her legs, turning the giggle into a moan.

  “That’s the sound I prefer,” he whispered in her ear.

  When he talked to her that way, she came undone. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be offended or scared. She knew if she stopped thinking for two seconds, nothing in the world would matter but the way he played her body.

  ***

  Every part of Z screamed this was a bad idea. She was too innocent. But he pushed the voice down. He wanted what he wanted, and if the way she shuddered in his arms was any indication, she did, too.

  Her hips began to rock as he eased two fingers inside her. So lovely and wet and… tight. He pressed harder and she let out a cry. He could smell her tears.

  Z didn’t move, just waited, trailing kisses down the side of her neck. He’d had sex with a virgin twice before Fiona. The first time he’d been clueless, popping her cherry with the first thrust, traumatizing the poor girl. The second time, he’d tried the fingering approach.

  He’d found the pain was almost as much psychological and fearing it as it was the actual event, so he’d learned to treat it like a Band-Aid and rip it off while nobody was looking.

  “Shhh, relax. That’s all the hurting part.”

  “Really?” It didn’t seem as if she believed him.

  He withdrew his fingers to let her see the blood in the dim light. “That’s my sneak attack method.”

  She giggled, finally relaxing. Z rolled them so she could straddle him. When he looked up at her, Fiona’s face didn’t have any of the earlier anxieties. It was serene and free of worry lines.

  He wanted her in this position for his own selfish reasons. He wanted her breasts hanging free in easy reach of his hands. He wanted to feel her writhing on top of him. Nothing was hotter to him than a woman riding him, seeking her own pleasure. And after the bit of pain, he wanted to be sure she had that.

  Z guided her, and she let out a gasp to match his answering groan as she sank down on him. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like for her, but he was in heaven.

  Her cheeks flushed, the pink almost swallowing her freckles. Her lips parted as her breath deepened. Then his gaze made the mistake of moving to her eyes. He avoided too much eye contact during sex; it was too intimate, but he couldn’t avoid it with her. Something inside wouldn’t let him abandon her right now. As she rode him, he felt something that had nothing to do with his anatomy. He felt connected. And it scared the shit out of him.

  ***

  As soon as Fiona fell asleep, Z bolted for the kitchen. He was on his second pot of coffee.

  He tried not to think about how he’d been with her. Sweet. Soft. Caring. No. This was bad news. It was just because she was a virgin. That had to be it. He wasn’t a monster. What was he going to do, toss her down on the ground and do her doggie style her first time? Clamp a hand over her mouth while she screamed past the pain? He’d had to be more gentle with her. Her first time shouldn’t be a bad memory, even if he couldn’t offer a commitment afterward.

  But he wasn’t convincing himself. He didn’t like to sleep with virgins because they were too much trouble, but he’d done it before and he hadn’t felt warm and fuzzy and protective. They’d wanted him to be their first. He’d agreed. It was as simple as that. Nothing about Fiona was simple.

  “Hey.”

  Z looked up guiltily, worried she might be able to sense too much of what was going on inside him. Did her gift only work when he was in animal form? How much information could she get with no direct dialogue? He wasn’t sure.

  She leaned against the refrigerator, her hair mussed up, wearing one of his T-shirts. The look on her face was… she looked so vulnerable. Had he put that look on her face? If anybody else had put that look there, he would have kicked their ass.

  “Do you want some coffee?” he asked. He hadn’t bothered to put clothes on when he’d come into the kitchen, and now that they were at an awkward moment, she was trying to avoid looking at any particular part of him, especially the part he couldn’t be bothered to cover up.

  She shook her head. “It’ll keep me up. I’m not a big coffee drinker.”

  “You’re up already.”

  “I rolled over and you weren’t there.”

  An instinctive look must have crossed his face, the kind that signaled his willingness to fight to the death to protect his bachelorhood, because she flinched in response.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean… I’m going to try to go back to sleep, I guess.” She turned away, the tension evident in her body. And after he’d done all that work to relax her.

  “Do you want to just sit with me, then?” Z didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to talk to a woman he’d just slept with. Up until now he’d orchestrated his sexual interactions so he wouldn’t have to carry on a conversation after the initial seduction, and definitely not after the main event.

  When he’d chosen human women, he’d become the master of sneaking out of strange beds in the middle of the night. He’d been stealthy to begin with, but he’d tweaked the skill to such a level that he’d never once been caught by a groggy woman with fairy-tale-princess dreams. Until now.

  This time, he’d chosen to sleep with a human woman in his own cave—a woman he couldn’t just dump, who might not be able to leave without a panic attack. Fuck. Z stared at the steam coming off his coffee cup.

  Fiona pulled out the chair he’d indicated and sat. “Now that you’ve had me, are you going to toss me out?”

  He looked up as if he’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. “What? No. What kind of monster do you think I am?” Subtle, Z. “You think I’d abandon you?” Keep lying to her. She knows.

  “Why not? You were ready to abandon the pup.”

  He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her. The more time they spent alone together, and the more attached he became, the more danger he was in of losing his freedom. But actually tossing her out hadn’t crossed his mind. It was more the terror of where this might go. If he’d thought just getting rid of her was an option, he wouldn’t have a reason to be afraid.

  “Nobody abandoned the pup. The pup was taken. Tell me how to find him. Do you have a plan? Do you have a map? Maybe you put some kind of tracking chip on him?” He knew he was goading her.

  She looked at her hands as she clasped and unclasped them on the table. “You know I don’t know how to find him anymore than you do.” Then she started crying. “All this is my fault.”

  Oh no. Not that again. Z had never met a woman who cried so damn much
, and it wasn’t some female problem. He’d know if it was that. He knew the exact times to steer clear of a woman to keep away unwanted offspring and to avoid hormone meltdown.

  “All what is your fault? Let’s try to narrow this down to a single topic.”

  Fiona shot him a glare. “I’m the one who let my guard down. I should have kept him in his cage while I worked the protection spell. I’m the one who screwed up the spell and left a magic trail that could be found. I’m the one who hesitated about going out after him when I could have kept him from going too far. Should I go on, because I’m sure the list is longer?”

  “You sound insane. Did you choose to be involved in any of this in the first place? I lost the pup the first time, landing him on your doorstep and involving you to begin with. I kidnapped you and brought you back here. I left you alone with him. I knew your fears when I left you here. It’s not your fault. All right? Please, please stop crying.”

  He got up and paced the floor, watching her agitation grow. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and settled down. Kidnapping her to help him understand the pup had seemed smart at the time. But who was he going to kidnap to help him figure Fiona out?

  “Come here.” He was struck by the notion that he was uncomfortable with how close they were in the small space of his cave. But he was equally uncomfortable by how far away they were, and the fact that he wasn’t touching her.

  She looked unsure, but got out of the chair and crossed the kitchen to meet him. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. After a second of shock at the unexpected gesture, she laid her head on his shoulder and he stroked her hair.

  Well weren’t they just domestic? If his panther buddies could see him now. They’d never stop laughing.