Chapter 10 #4
The feline bounded from shelf to shelf, over the tops of bookcases, and across the paw-size, hanging bridge.
“Quite the obstacle course.” A very impressive one. A climbing tree would take a cat right to the top. Two sisal rope-wrapped scratching posts probably saved the furniture.
“That was the idea,” she agreed. “I need to get Max a friend. Mikan and Yuki used to chase each other up and down the wall until they were exhausted.”
“I’m pleased he’s an inside cat. The foxes and coyotes consider cats to be snacks.”
“Birds too. Marisol next door lost her kitty to a bald eagle. It was horrible.” She wrinkled her nose, so cute, he bent for another kiss.
With a low meow, Max padded across the hardwood floor. He had plush-looking, brown fur, darker around the muzzle and tail. Sturdy bones, rather skinny body.
Drake knelt and politely offered a finger.
After a careful sniff, Max rubbed his cheek against Drake’s hand.
“You have a friendly cat.”
“I know, right? The vet said he looks Burmese, which means he’s totally friendly and trusting—and what everything else in the world calls prey.” Her expression went flat. “It’s how I met him.”
Drake scooped the cat up—oui, very accepting—and settled in the adjacent chair where he could watch her face. “This sounds like a good story. Tell me.”
With Theodore, Ray knew better than to tell an exciting story. If she got into the telling, he’d end up calling her a drama queen.
But Drake was waiting patiently. And when she saw sweet Max snuggle down on the Dom’s lap—her kitty had never met a stranger—anger fired in her blood. How could those men have been so cruel?
She launched into the tale, how she and Marisol were in the ferry terminal parking lot, what she’d heard. As Drake stroked her sweet-hearted kitty, her anger rose higher.
“One of them said, ‘C’mon, grab it. I wanna toss it in with the pitbull. See which one of them wins.’ She sat up straighter, muscles tensing as she remembered. “I grabbed a baseball bat from my back seat and headed for them.”
“You…what?”
“Marisol followed with the SUV. I confronted them, and they saw I was female and wouldn’t put the cat down. When Marisol turned on the brights to blind them, I used my bat.” She made a swinging motion with her hands. “End of story—and I ended up with a cat.”
Drake was on his feet, cat cradled against his chest. His eyes had turned darker than dark—or maybe it was the effect of his black eyebrows pulled together. “I do not believe you.”
The words were a knife to her chest, slicing through her heart with a icy pain. “I…It’s true.” But…so many skeptical voices lived in her memory.
Pa never believed her when she’d excitedly told him of her adventures. Theodore always thought she was lying. “Stop exaggerating.”
Hands dropping into her lap, she swallowed down the hurt and tried to even her voice. “I wouldn’t lie to… I never lie.”
As if he’d believe her
“Merde,” he said under his breath and put Max on the floor. Taking a seat on the heavy oak coffee table, he captured her hands. “Aralia Lanigan, that’s not what I meant. I never thought you were lying. But you…you are a small woman, and you took on three men. In the dark. With a baseball bat.”
When she stared at him, he drew an audible breath in through his nose. Leaned forward right into her space, and growled, “Are. You. Insane?”
The hurt dissolved, and she half-choked on a laugh. He sounded like Faj when she’d scared him—only even more upset.
More protective.
He believes me. Her eyes filled with tears. Her voice came out raw. “I didn’t want to…but I couldn’t let them hurt a cat.”
“No, chérie, I suppose you couldn’t.” He cupped her cheek, and she could actually see him set his anger aside. His thumb stroked over her skin. “However, if you do something so dangerous again, we will learn how many paddle strokes are needed for you to eat standing up. For a week.”
Wait…what?
“Awake, bébé?”
Still on the couch, Ray yawned and looked at the sunlight slanting through the western windows. It was evening? “How long was I asleep? What time is it?”
“A couple of hours and around seven. Speaking of which, before you forget, it’s time to call Hope.”
“Oh, oops. Wouldn’t want you to be hauled away in handcuffs.”
“No, let’s not have that happen. I prefer to be the one doing the cuffing.”
When she shivered at the thought of him putting her in cuffs, the faintest smile appeared on his lips. Damn Dom saw everything.
“Time to eat, oui?”
Her stomach growled in agreement…and wasn’t the only bodily function complaining. “I…uh…need to get up.”
“Ah, of course.” To her relief, he didn’t make fun of her but simply scooped her up and carried her into the downstairs bathroom. He left her there, saying he’d be in the kitchen and to open the door when she was done. Handing her the cell, he reminded her to call Hope.
He really is a nice person. Because, face it, how could she pee if he was outside the door listening?
Which, if she was being logical, was kind of stupid.
Seriously, what idiot in the beginning of civilization thought it was clever to make normal bodily functions something to be hidden and embarrassed about?
Animals didn’t have any problems with pooping in public.
In fact, Yuki would use the litterbox and then yowl to inform everyone she had a successful bowel movement.
But Americans—oh, the shame if anyone hears the toilet being used. So stupid.
Ack, how’d I get sidetracked onto this rant? Okay, brain, get off the hamster wheel. With a huff of exasperation, she finished and washed her hands.
So, knee, how’s it going? She limped in a couple of trial circles around the bathroom before opening the door.
Obviously having been watching for her, Drake strolled over from the kitchen. He studied her. “Since you undoubtedly tried putting weight on your bad leg, how does it feel?”
“Considering we just met recently, you seem to know me awfully well.”
His lips quirked up. “Some people are like obsidian, impossible to see through. You, bébé, are a diamond, transparent to read but with so many facets.”
That…was a compliment. She had to smile. But still… “So much for being a woman of mystery.”
Laughing, he swept her into a bridal carry and took her breath away.
She should’ve felt like annoying baggage being hauled around. Instead, he made her feel like a princess.
Every woman should get to feel like a princess.
And what kind of thought was that?
Disney has a lot to answer for.
“I’m sorry I’m so much trouble,” she said as he carried her across the great room.
“I enjoy having you in my arms”—he grinned—“and at my mercy.” Bending his head, he kissed the top of her nose teasingly.
The brush of his beard against her skin made her shiver. Why did it feel as if she’d been waiting for him to touch her all day.
What rule said she had to wait?
She pulled his head back down and kissed him. Totally kissed him.
Under her mouth, she felt his lips curve up.
And then he sat down on the couch, settling her with her butt on thighs, her legs stretched out on the cushions, and leaning back into the curve of his right arm. With his left hand, he laced his fingers into her hair, gripped, and pulled her head back.
And then he kissed her.
In a slow, determined exploration, he learned her taste and gave her his, invading seductively, slowly, before turning wet and ravenous. She couldn’t move, and a thrill ran through her. For a moment, he sucked on her bottom lip, then took her lips again until her senses spun.
When he lifted his head, her skin felt sensitive, hot all over her body.
He made a sound like pffft and gave her a rueful smile. “We will go no further, mon petit chou. Not with you on pain medications, no matter how mild.”
“But…” She was willing to go much, much further.
“Non.”
She scowled at him. “I’m not a cabbage, by the way.”
“You aren’t a what?” His brows drew together, then he laughed. Gods, she loved his laugh. “I’ll remember. Perhaps.” He moved her to a corner of the couch and stood up. “Supper is prepared. You should eat.”
“You cooked while I was asleep?” Oh, she could smell something wonderful. “Seriously?”
“I did. Do you have TV trays?”
“Faj hated those flimsy things so he made something better.” Scooting to the corner of the couch, she motioned to the three-shelfed cherry wood end table.
“The surface of this is actually two layers of wood with both on rollers.
Pull the table forward, then the top part rotates around to the front of the couch.
“Interesting.” He scooted the top of the end table around to make an L-shape. “Clever—and sturdy.”
“It’s mostly because I was kinda clumsy and tipped over a TV tray.” She sighed and confessed. “Twice. It’s one of the reasons he taught me karate.”
“I would have said his plan worked—you don’t seem clumsy at all, except”—he tugged on her hair teasingly—“you did trip over a twig in the parking lot.”
“It was a branch, you, you douchenoggin.” She kicked at him with her good leg. Oh, hell, I insulted and tried to kick a Dom.
Not even close to upset, he was laughing as he stepped out of reach. “That cannot be a compliment.”
“Sorry?”
“No, you’re not.” He adjusted the end table on the other side of the couch. “I made chicken—what pieces do you like? Drumstick, breast…”
“My favorite is the thigh.” She pursed her lips, remembering his touch in the club. In the park. “Don’t tell me… You’re a breast man.”
His instant grin delighted her. “In every way, oui.”
He brought her a plate with succulent chicken, broccoli with cheese sauce, wild rice, and biscuits.
Discovering she was starving, she abandoned conversation and inhaled it all.
Smiling, he did the same.
“Oh, that was awesome.” As she picked up her fork with the last bite, Max jumped up on the couch beside her, tiny nose lifted.
“Cat, you know better.” And yet, who could resist? She offered him a tiny shred of the chicken. “Faj would have my head.”