Animal Instincts (23 page)

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Authors: Gena Showalter

BOOK: Animal Instincts
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He took the sample from me and gave the burgundy coloring and gold lettering a thorough inspection. “Wow. You’re good. My mother will like it, too,” he added, knowing I’d ask. “As for the location, I don’t know yet.”

“Why not?” I shoved to my feet, fearing his next words.

“I want to visit a cabin in Oklahoma.”

“Out of the question. It’s too late in the game.”

“We leave in four days. I’ve already made arrangements.”

“But—but—”

“Don’t worry. We’ll have fun.”

“I’m not flying again. I won our bet in Colorado, and you swore I wouldn’t have to step foot in another plane. Is that correct?”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“Then I don’t have to go to Oklahoma. You can’t make me.”

His lips lifted in another slow smile, this one a wicked grin of pure pleasure. “I
can
make you. We’re driving. It’s only a three-hour drive, sweetheart.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. I did
not
want to rough it in some primitive cabin. How sexy could I look then? “My answer is still no.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. I’m paying you triple, remember?”

“I refuse to go. Do you understand me?”

“Great. Try to be ready by three on Friday.”

17

An apology is a curse word to a Tigress. By admitting guilt, you are saying your actions were wrong. A Tigress is never wrong.

I
SPENT THE NEXT SEVERAL
mornings shopping for table centerpieces. Finally I found shiny, to-die-for “magic” lamps. I bought bags of fake gemstones and planned to glue them around the lamps’ bellies.

In the afternoons, I waited at Jonathan’s office and followed him on his lunch hour. He and Nora had lunch together only once, and they hadn’t done anything sexual, hadn’t even kissed. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to snap his neck for that or hug him. Whether he was cheating or not, I just didn’t know anymore. Why continue to lie to my mom, though, if he was an innocent man?

I had tried to listen to his conversations with Nora, but I just hadn’t been able to get close enough to them.

Wednesday afternoon, I followed Jonathan to a nearby park. He met his daughter, Rachel, and his granddaughter there. I recognized them from the photo I’d found. The three of them played and talked and laughed, appearing to all the world like a happy family. But seeing them together made me sad. I’d never had that with my real dad. He’d lived and died a bastard. I’d never really had that with Jonathan, either, because, even though I loved him, I’d always set myself a little apart from him.

The next day I actually met Rachel in person at a nearby park. As trees swayed around us and children laughed and played on the swing set, we sized each other up. Jonathan sat on a bench, silent (for once), letting us have this moment to ourselves.

“So,” I said. I eyed her. She had dark hair and a vivid emerald gaze. Pretty, conservative. Every man’s dream daughter. Gag. “How’d your mom hook up with Jonathan?”

“They went to school together,” Rachel said stiffly.

“And she never mentioned you to him?”

“No.” Now she sounded defensive. I think she was as
happy
to meet me as I was to meet her. “But we’re together now, and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m glad for you,” I said. And I tried to mean it when I really wanted to say, “he’s mine!” Kind of. I guess.

She bit her lip and glanced away. “My mother
passed away a few months ago and left me a note about him. I hunted him down and you know the rest.”

Hearing that she’d recently lost someone dear to her, I softened. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She softened, too. “Thank you.”

For a long, silent moment our gazes met and held, gray against green. “I guess this means we’re sisters now.” To be honest, I’d always wanted a sister. Someone to talk and laugh with. A playmate.

“I’ve always wanted a sister,” she said wistfully, parroting my thoughts. I grinned slowly. And that was all it took.

After that, we were able to relax around each other. To really talk. We spent more than an hour together, discussing our culinary likes and dislikes, the men in our lives (she was a single parent), Jonathan’s therapy sessions and promised to stay in touch. Jonathan beamed the entire time. I left the park feeling lighthearted, like I truly
had
made a new friend. A friend I hadn’t wanted but had, perhaps, needed.

 

I
SPENT THE EVENINGS
all that week on the phone with Royce, caressing my BlueJay as if it were my favorite toy. I never asked, and he never asked, but I wanted him to come over.
Needed
him to come over and rock my world again. But every phone call was the same.

Me: I think we should have sex again.

Royce: Bad idea.

Me: Why?

Royce: I want more from you than sex.

Me: Goodbye, you prudish bastard.

We’d switched rolls, Royce and I. He was the waiting-for-marriage woman and I was the let’s-hop-into-the-sack man. This morning, while I lingered in the hot, steamy shower, I realized my only recourse was to talk him into being my—God, I felt juvenile saying this—boyfriend. We’d try that out, see how it went. It wasn’t marriage, but it was close to it. That’s what he wanted (kind of), and I wasn’t so selfish (I hoped) that I couldn’t at least try the give-and-take thing. We talked on the phone every day, anyway. Why not spend the holidays together? Why not go on romantic dates?

We’d have lots and lots of exclusive, amazing sex. I wouldn’t tell him I loved him or anything like that, but I would try—try, mind you—to act like a proper girlfriend.

 

F
RIDAY ARRIVED TOO QUICKLY
and not soon enough.

As we soared down the highway, I found myself buckled in yet another car of Royce’s, this one a plush, dark blue Jag. “Are you sure you don’t want to have sex with me?” I asked. “We could pull over and do it right now. I’m willing.”

He flicked me a heated glance, and that glance lingered on my bare thighs. I’d purposefully worn a short pink skirt I’d borrowed from Mel, knowing it would rise every time I sat down. I wasn’t without my wiles.

“I want to make love to you.” His voice emerged hoarse, a little raw. “Believe me, I’m close to combustion.”

“But you tell me no every day.” Could I sound any whinier? “And you haven’t made a pass at me this last week.”

“Remember what I told you before I left for Florida? Remember what I told you on the phone? I meant it. No sex until we’re committed.”

“I’ll be your girlfriend, okay, and you’ll be my boyfriend,” I grumbled. “That’s a commitment.”

Everything went still, silent. He kept his eyes on the road, but I noticed his hands were ultra-tight on the wheel. “What about being my fiancée?”

“One thing at a time. Girlfriend is all I can offer right now.”

He sighed, but it was a happy sound. “Fair enough.” Reaching over, he clasped my hand in his. “This is a big step for you. I know you never planned to be in another relationship.”

So big a step I could hardly believe I’d said it out loud. “Maybe we should lay some ground rules.”

“No rules.”

“But—”

“No rules.”

“But—”

“Rules are for the military and naughty children. The only restriction we need is fidelity. No seeing other people.”

Hearing him say that warmed me in and out. “No asking for my hand in marriage, and no asking my stepdad for my hand in marriage.”

The corners of his lips twitched. “Those sound like rules to me.”

“You stated a rule, so I got to name some.”

“Fair enough,” he repeated.

“So I guess we’re a couple.”

“The enthusiasm in your voice is awe-inspiring. It really is,” he said dryly. His eyes twinkled with mischief, happiness and heat, all at once.

I twisted in my seat, facing him more fully. The sun created a bright halo around him, and my throat suddenly constricted. “So you can rock my world later. Right?”

“No.” He shook his head in regret and pushed out another sigh. “Sorry.”

“No? No! What do you mean, no? I said I’d be your girlfriend.”

“I’m saving myself for marriage.”

I bared my teeth in a scowl. “Why you dirty little sneak. I take back everything I said. I’m not your girlfriend. I’m your worst enemy.”

“You can’t take it back.” He pressed his lips—his gorgeous, pleasure giving, traitorous lips—together to keep from laughing. “You’ll respect me more this way.”

My eyes slitted. Fine. He wanted to play this game, I’d play it. But I was fighting dirty. When we arrived at the cabin, I was going to seduce him right out of his pants! Deciding to take our relationship to the next level really had been a huge step for me, and I expected—no, I
deserved
a reward.

Just you wait, Royce Powell.

An hour later, he eased the Jag down a gravel driveway and I had my strategy mapped out in my mind. Show skin, say wickedly sexy things and tease
him at every opportunity. We’d just see who caved first.

The cabin came into view. It was small and homey, and overlooked a large body of glistening, crystal water. The car stopped completely. Without a word, I threw open the passenger door and jumped out.

“Leave your stuff,” he said when I walked around to the trunk. “I’ll take care of it.”

Being a girlfriend did have some advantages. I strode away, making sure my hips swayed with every movement. Sharp gray rocks bit into my soft-soled shoes. The air was fresh and clean, like pine and summer sky. Trees swayed in the light breeze. At the door, I gave the knob an experimental turn, surprised to find it unlocked. Taking a deep breath, I forged inside. And gasped.

Sensual, perfect, and every woman’s most erotic dream, the cabin appealed to me on every level. A large Jacuzzi sat in the main room, already filled, the fireplace only a few feet away. Supplying a breathtaking view of the lake was a large paneled glass window that covered the entire back wall.

It was the perfect spot to watch the sunset.

It was the perfect spot to relax.

It was simply…perfect. I smiled slowly. Royce would never be able to resist me. Wait for marriage, would he? We’d see about that.

“What do you think?”

I whirled around. Royce stood in the entry, holding my overnight bag in one hand and his own bag in the other. “What do you think?” he asked again.

“I love it. It’s like a paradise hideaway. It won’t work for the party, of course, but I love it.”

His brows arched. “You can tell already?”

“Do you really think you can fit three hundred people in here?”

“I can decrease the number of guests if needed. We’ve had this conversation before.”

“I’ll take a look around,” I grumbled.

“Good. I’ll cook lunch.” His footsteps tapered off as he disappeared beyond a door.

I saluted his back and said, “Yes, sir.” I dug the tape measure out of my bag and began working. By taking measurements of the room, I would know how many people could fit combined with just how many decorations I could use.

Half an hour later, I had a list composed. Instead of planning for the party, however, I noted every corner, crevice and room where I wanted to have sex with Royce.

I went to the kitchen to begin my seduction.

Unnoticed by Royce, I stood silently off to the side, watching him putter around. I couldn’t help but notice the way his arm muscles flexed when he reached for bowls. The way he sucked in his upper lip as he concentrated. A rich, warm aroma floated past my nostrils and my stomach growled.

Royce placed a large dish on the table.


You
cooked lasagna?” I asked, incredulous.

“Are you kidding?” he said, flicking me a glance. “I didn’t want you to suffer another bout of food poisoning.” He grinned with wry humor. “I paid
someone to come out here. She stocked the fridge, took care of the Jacuzzi. All that stuff.”

I didn’t care who made the lasagna, as long as I could eat it. My stomach rumbled again.

“Hungry?”

“Ravenous.” In only ten minutes, I gobbled up the delicious pasta and consumed four glasses of juice. Royce had barely touched his food.

“Hurry up and eat,” I told him. “When you’re done, we can get naked.” The last was spoken in a throaty purr.

“No thanks.” He quickly turned his attention to his plate.

Everything about him, from the way he looked to the way he moved, promised pleasure, and I was going to collect.

When he finally finished eating, he stood and carried our plates to the sink. Once back at the table, he took me by the hands and pulled me up to my full height.

“Come on.” He tugged me toward the door. “Let’s go outside. There’s a swing on the back porch.”

“No, let’s stay in.” I focused my weight into my feet, bringing us to a quick halt. “I’d rather sit in the Jacuzzi. The bubbles will feel so good against my skin.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

I licked my lips. “Neither did I.”

He jolted away from me as if I’d singed him. “I, uh, think I’ll take a nap instead.” He gave a feigned yawn. “I’m tired from all that driving.”

“Don’t be a baby. We’re adults, and we can swim
together without it being sexual.” If he believed that, he’d be inside me within the hour.

He frowned. “How do you suggest we go about this?”

“Nude, of course.”

“I don’t think so,” he replied, folding his arms over his chest. “That’s about as sexual as two people can get.” A bead of sweat trickled down his temples as he stared at my hardened nipples. He gulped. “Yeah, bad idea.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, too. The battle lines were drawn. “I thought you liked to be daring. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend now. We can get naked together. It’s acceptable.”

“No.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left it at home.”

I gave him a pointed once-over, even took a step closer.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,”
I clicked under my tongue. “I think you’re lying.”

He continued to back away. This trip had been his idea. I hadn’t wanted to come, but I think I’d successfully managed to switch our viewpoints. “Stop it, Naomi.”

“Are you afraid you can’t stick to your principles?” I reached out and traced a fingertip over his erection. “If you can’t, I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

The hard, thick length of him jerked at my first touch. He squeezed his eyes closed. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I want you to touch me,” I said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

“What happened to the woman who was determined not to sleep with me?” The lines around his mouth were taut, and he stretched his shirt collar with two fingers.

Daring, bold, I pressed myself against him fully. Chest to chest. Hardness to softness. “Please go swimming with me, Royce. I’m dying to get into that water, to feel it lap against me. It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before.”

“That was different,” he said, streams of sweat now dripping from his temples.

I placed a featherlight kiss on his chin. “Different how?”

“It just was.”

My teeth ground together, and I released him, stepping backward. At this rate, the stubborn man might be able to refuse me all night. I had to try a different angle. “If you don’t want to swim, why don’t we play a game?”

His shoulders relaxed, and he even managed a half smile. “What do you want to play?”

“How about strip poker?”

Losing all traces of that smile, he paled and shook his head. “No.”

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