“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
I nod, cupping her breasts in my large hands and smoothing my thumbs over her nipples. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a place this nice. Never with someone like you.”
She places her hands on the ink of my arms, a panther on one, a network of symbols on the other. All remnants of my wasted career. Her eyes hold mine, and I know the truth. When she tasted my blood, she got the whole goddamn story. I don’t know how I feel about that.
“A few nights ago, you slept outside my window. Outside at the tree line.” She tightens her hold on me; her body is flush against mine.
I’m holding her, sliding my hands around to the arch of her back, thinking of all the things I wish I could give her. All the things I wasted when I had them in my grasp. Her statement isn’t what I’d expected at this moment.
“I wanted to be sure you were safe.”
Her expression warms, and she rises on her toes to hug me, moving her body against me the way she did in her little studio. “I’ve never slept so well as I did that night. I didn’t know you were there. I only knew I felt utterly safe, completely protected.”
“I’d never let anyone hurt you.” My head is lowered, and I kiss the side of her face.
She leans back, studying my mouth. “Not even poor Jim.”
“Oh, man.” I lift my chin, inwardly cringing again. “That was unexpected.”
That response seems to please her. She grins and speaks in that low purr I love. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know. I’ve seen you do it.” I nod. “You’re an ass-kicker.”
“Still…” she nips my lip. “I like knowing you’re watching over me.”
Sliding my hands down, I cup her ass. Our bodies are slippery against each other.
“I could make love to you all night,” I growl. The shower has washed all the clay away, and I want to carry her out to that enormous bed and spend the night doing just that. At the same time, I have something else nagging at the back of my mind. “But I can’t stay with you tonight.”
She makes a pouty face, and I lean down to kiss her long and deep. She hums in a contented way, and I grin down at her. “You’re pretty fucking addictive, you know that?”
“You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to say that to me.” She turns and shuts off the water, opening the foggy glass door and getting us both thick, white towels.
I watch her dry off as I slowly do the same. She hangs hers on a hook when she’s done, taking a white terry robe and tying it over her nude body. I wrap my towel around my waist and follow her into her enormous bedroom.
“Why can’t you stay with me?” She climbs onto the bed, on her knees facing me.
“There’s something I have to take care of.” Filtering back to that night, I try and remember exactly what I felt. Three times I’ve had a flash of evil lurking around her house, but I still don’t know what it is.
“What do you have to do?” My hands are on her waist, and she’s so adorable.
“Have you lived here all your life?” I ask, watching her eyes. She nods, sitting back on her heels holding my hands. “In this same house?”
“This is my family’s house. The Quinlans have lived here for more than a century. Since Woodland Creek was founded.”
“Were they a founding family?”
“No.” She shakes here head. “There were five founding families, but we weren’t one of them. We were one of the first shifter families to move here after the town was founded.”
I try to think. “Was the house already here when your family moved in or did they build it?”
“I’m not sure.” Her blue eyes travel around my face, and she’s growing more serious. “I think they built it, but I’d have to ask Penny.”
I consider that could be the answer. Her family could have moved into a haunted house. That thing could be a ghost pining for a lost wife or child, unable to find passage to the other side.
“Do you know if there are any mysteries or any stories associated with this place?”
“No.” Her eyes grow larger. “What’s going on, Koa?