Collared for a Night (Crimson Romance) (12 page)

She refused to give in. “This house is unbelievable. I imagine balls, dinner parties, a time when salons were held. How many rooms are there?”

“Last count, eight bedrooms and thirteen baths. Two living rooms and all the other usual areas. I’ve a few that remain empty. I stalled and didn’t want to commit until the moment was right. I thought the
right
feminine touch would come in handy.”

She sharply inhaled. Did her
sensei
read minds and the future? Was he such an expert player that he’d infer what she wanted to hear? No lies, only suggestions. She nervously laughed. “Understandable. I imagine furniture shopping could get mind-numbing after, say, the ninth room.”

“Surprisingly, when it’s your own, it does get old rather fast. Paint chips and textiles took me down. I cried uncle after a year.”

“You’ve only been here a year?” She didn’t want to think back twelve months. Her life had been utter hell.

“The land has been in the family for generations. I marked the foundation years ago and then it sat. I’ve enjoyed being footloose and fancy free, enjoying the perks until that lifestyle suddenly was no longer appealing. Anyway, we’re here now. Enough to keep us satisfied. If not, we’ll get whatever you desire.”

“For now, I think if I could get some clothing, I’d be set.” She refused to think about this tantalizing offer he tossed about so glibly. The odd truth — that he wasn’t bonded to a mate — had her wondering. More than likely, half of the available shifters in Denver, even the United States, considered him an eligible bachelor. Toss in available women who didn’t know he was a wereleopard, and the numbers went exponential.

An alpha such as Shawn would bond to an alpha shifter. Those shifters didn’t put up with other females mating with her consort, just as this man wouldn’t permit his bonded mate to copulate with another male. This cycle must have gotten to his brain as well. What in God’s name was he really asking her? In her world, this meant ties and lineage if she was an alpha.

It was one thing to run away from home with her childhood sweetheart. It was a very different thing to mate with a clan alpha. From what she could tell, he was childless; that was one scent impossible to mask. Based on his sexual prowess, Shawn’s all-too-powerful
more-orgasms
would result in a brood of cubs. The thought of having not just one child but several to care for hit her full-force. Her career would be effectively over.

This was crazy, to take his asking her to live with him as anything more than a temporary arrangement. She nibbled her fingernail, imagining how beautiful his children would be. During a heat cycle, this was not helpful thinking!

The room blazed hotter, her skin shrunk, and she pulled at her neckline. Think, she told herself. Nothing to get boxed in over. This wasn’t a life sentence. She was free to march out the door. Fin would take her home. She was here of her own accord. Her erratic thoughts were just the product of her heat cycle.

“Would you care for something to drink?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” she said, shaky and acutely aware she needed to gather her wits.
One step at a time. Easy as pie.

He pushed a swinging door and they entered into a huge kitchen that more than likely was the size of one of his restaurants. “A full gourmet kitchen. I believe you mentioned you loved cooking when we first met.”

“Your memory serves you well.” She stopped talking.
Good God, it was the largest kitchen in a private home she’d ever seen.
“I’ve got one word: luxe. This kitchen is out of control.”

Intriguing how he’d combined different textures to create a modern, warm atmosphere. Natural stones and woods. Industrial stainless. Hand-blown glass. From the intricate tiled floors to the smooth granite counters, unending horizontal surfaces begged her gaze to continue skirting the room, only hesitating to note the polished white cabinets, ultra-modern chic lighting, and the several sinks. Over the island were gleaming copper pans hanging from an ornate wrought-iron rack attached to a ceiling higher than those at his club. She followed him as he stood and pulled the handle on a veneered Sub-Zero. Escaping mists from the freezer surrounded them in a chilling cloud as he removed a bottle of vodka.

“Here, please put this on the counter,” he said, opening the refrigerator where he pulled out a wrapped tray. She set the bottle down. “Let me help,” she said, reaching for the refrigerator door handle.

“Thanks. I hope you enjoy smoked salmon. I remember you eating some at that breakfast during the holidays.”

She peeked at him from under her lowered lashes. “How did you even remember that day? You were surrounded by your clients.”

“Most of us generally live in contradiction. We ignore what’s important and attend to the details that are meaningless without context. I’ve always leaned into the light where you’re concerned.”

“Leaned into the light?” she asked, uncertain what he meant.

“Paid attention to you,” he murmured, a hot glow emanating from his eyes.

Her skin rippled with pleasure. He would have her groveling if she didn’t pace herself. Beginning right this second. She contemplated the small bowls on the tray.

“Everything looks delectable.” She couldn’t say for sure what she’d eaten at the meeting he described, but she vaguely remembered having tasted lox and cream cheese. But the Beluga caviar, Greek olives, pickled beets, and tomato and onions drizzled with balsamic vinegar and oil was certainly appetite inspiring. Everything she’d naturally select was here. Not one item wasn’t something she had come to relish — her ultimate brunch.

Shawn moved away from her, the source of ember-like heat going with him. He opened a cabinet and removed two plates. He set them at the counter before padded leather barstools. She followed his example, placing the tray near the plates.

“What else do we need?”

“Just silverware and glasses. If you turn around and count two cabinets over, you’ll find them. Get the tumblers. Do you mind?” Arrogance as a style looked good on him. The set of his jaw and arch of his brow made the space between her legs ache to be dominated. He moved and opened a drawer, removing flatware.

She opened the cabinet, noticing that the wood smelled of wax and lemons. She gazed across the neat rows of crystal, far different from the jumbled mess in her cabinet of unmatched glasses. She lifted a crystal tumbler. Not the lightweight kind. This one rested heavy in her hand. Waterford, she’d bet on it.

She set one glass down on the counter rather than run the risk of dropping it, and shut the cabinet. She turned just as he opened the bottle of Belvedere vodka.

“How do you feel?” he asked as he watched her from behind half-closed lids.

Jesus, she almost dropped a glass, unnerved by his expression. Was she on the menu and no one had informed her?

“Nervous, but hungry. You were right. I’m starved.”

“Come sit and let’s take care of one hunger, then another. And there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“Said the spider to the fly,” she murmured.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing insect-like about you. Delectable, yes; creepy-crawler, impossible. If anything, that mouth of yours is more like a slice of heaven wrapped around me, as is your pussy. Drink with me to how I will fuck you in my bed. The things you’ll learn.” He handed her a drink with barely a finger of vodka. Shawn raised his glass, his gaze locking with hers. “To enlightenment.”

“And easing the pains of hunger. Thank you for taking me on during this crisis and clearing my head.”

He smiled across at her. “Diana, I can’t pretend. I desired you the moment we met. I respect you immensely as a graphic artist. For all you’ve been through, you needn’t fear this is one more act of craziness. Not with me.”

They clinked their glasses and he flipped the crystal tumbler back, pouring the entire serving of vodka into his mouth. No wonder he didn’t fill their glasses. He drank Russian style.

She watched him over her rim, the vodka slipping over her tongue. She swallowed the shot of smooth liquor, setting her glass down. Diana stood next to him with his dark good looks as he poured more velvet-tasting liquor to accompany his equally smooth words..

The idea of going clubbing with him, tossing back shots, and listening to music when she was past the haze of a heat would be a treat. He’d be hard to resist while dancing with his hot, hard body bending over her, bending her to his will. He gazed back at her, his face serious, begging the question of why the sudden change in his affect.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“How to finish this meal in a hurry.”

Chapter 8

During their meal, he kept thinking of what her life had been like this past year. With his staff, he kept all his interactions above board so they’d never discussed her life outside Matrix. There was no crossing of lines or muddying the waters at Matrix or at the Den, not after his
learning by fire with Mia and Frazier.

“Let me tidy up.” Diana began to stack the plates in the dishwasher. Shawn came up behind her, bracketing her hips between his hands and rubbing his stiffening cock against her tempting ass.

“Don’t worry about all this. Come. It’s time for bed.”

She swayed her bottom against him, and it was either take her here in the kitchen, or get her upstairs. His housekeeper might not know he’d arrived home and wander in without warning. He clenched his jaw, his desire to mount Diana swimming in his mind. “Now,” he snapped, pulling her body back from the counter.

“Okay,” she said gazing up into his face with her shimmering eyes and pupils nearly fully dilated. The scent of her filled him, and he interlaced their fingers, leading her out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the backstairs.

He held Diana in his arms, having picked her up at the bottom step. He couldn’t resist touching her whenever possible. She was his, whether she realized it or not. The idea of her running unchecked in the middle of Denver had him seeing red. He wanted to spank her bottom for shifting without a care for her own safety, and in a public park. No way would he ever let her do that again. His gut spasmed at the unsettling thought: what if she had no intention of letting him do more than train her?

He started up the stairs. “Diana, you must promise me, never shift alone again?”

“You said I’d have control. Right? I’m not worried. You’re not going to start acting like a brood hen?”

“Don’t force me to impress upon you the severity of this problem.”

“I’ve taken care of myself up to now. I do understand. I’ve no desire to end up in some lock-up facility.” Her flippant tone said otherwise.

Oh, hell. He wanted to shake her good. Tristen and Fin would be assigned to tail her if she refused his offer.
Note to self: hire another bodyguard
.

Time would tell if he was right on first bite — for her, not him. He was certain. He wasn’t in full control when what he sought involved the volition of a strong-willed woman. Diana might not understand what it meant to be an alpha leopardess at present. Yet, just from her attempt to go it alone for over a year, she had already proven her strength of character in his book. He had enough sense to admit that his inability to take her without a chase excited and, at the same time, bothered him. To be conflicted in claiming a woman like Diana would demand correcting, and fast.

He found it inconceivable that her parents had refused to let her come back just because she’d married a man not of their choosing. Now, as a widow, would she go back to her family?

Christ, she was an alpha leopardess he’d have been proud to bring home to his parents if they were alive. He didn’t want to think along those lines. Not tonight.

Diana had asked him questions he realized that were doorways to grounding them and deepening their connection. They’d shared their pasts and pain, but it was only the first night he’d let her into his world. Regardless of having known her for the last year, he’d been her employer and had kept his distance, all too aware of his attraction to her, and unwilling to risk crossing any lines that would make her uncomfortable.

Bringing her home, to this house and into his bedroom, very much satisfied both his human and leopard natures. “Are you tired?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her face.

He lifted her chin, gazing into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. His words became glued to the back of his throat. If he lost this woman, he doubted recovery would be possible. Jesus, what could he do to ensure she would be safe?
Everything possible.

Her fingers had crept up and held his face. “You look worried,” she said.

He inhaled, unwilling to articulate these thoughts just yet. “Concerned. You’re a handful but even so, I may have tired you out. All I want is to tear off your clothes and toss you across that bed.” He brushed his mouth against her rose-petal lips.

“Mmmm. There’s nothing we need to solve tonight.” She moaned against his mouth. Her breath caressed his tongue and he returned for a second taste.

If she refused to listen to reason, he’d take things into his own hands. Starting right now, with her body, he turned her face to give him better access. “Open for me. No holding back.” This time he kissed her with the intent to have his way in his own bed.

Shawn set her down in the hall outside his room without releasing her. He pushed her back into the wall, plunging his tongue into her mouth, delivering and taking with each tangle of his tongue. It was impossible to get enough of her. He ran his hands over her shoulders unzipping her dress. He brought the material down her waist, enjoying the feel of her skin over her lush hips. Jesus, to draw out this experience would be explosive.

Opening the bedroom door, he guided her inside. “Take it off. Everything you’re wearing.”

Slowly, she worked her fingers letting the dress fall around her legs. She stepped free, unhooking her bra, and undoing the garter belt. She removed her shoes and then one by one, he watched enthralled as she rolled down her stockings in the most provocative striptease he’d ever witnessed.