“We’d better get you back and out of those wet clothes,” Conner said. “I’m going to shift.”
It was all the warning she got before his muscles contorted and fur slid along his back and belly. Claws burst through the tips of his fingers. She was shocked at how fast he could assume his other form. She fell into step beside him, unafraid, even though her heart pounded and she was aware of every movement in the forest. She was alive. Totally, absolutely alive.
8
IT was happening all over again. Isabeau took a quick, surreptitious look around, hoping no one would notice her squirming. Her skin burned, felt too tight, every nerve ending raw and jumping. She rubbed her arms, and with even that light touch, her skin hurt. Deep inside the itch had grown to a demanding ache she couldn’t ignore.
She’d slept the night way, curled against the large leopard, the rain a steady, soothing rhythm, the fur thick and warm. His heartbeat had been in her ear as she’d pillowed her head on soft fur. There’d been no sign of this madness then. She’d even managed to get the picture of Conner crouching naked in the stream out of her mind. Now, she couldn’t take a breath without scenting his fresh, wild musk—an enticing lure she couldn’t seem to ignore.
Without even looking for him, she was acutely aware of him. She knew his exact position at any given moment. Conner Vega was fast becoming the bane of her life. She tried desperately just to breathe normally, but her lungs burned right along with her skin, air coming in ragged, harsh gasps.
The men shot her small, quick glances throughout breakfast, but no one really looked at her—and that told her that in spite of her best efforts—they knew her ripening condition. It was a humiliating and extremely uncomfortable position to be in. Her hunger deepened when Conner came back from his morning shower, dressed casually in jeans that hugged his strong legs and cupped his butt. The last thing she needed to do was to be looking, but, honestly, how could she stop herself? She pressed her fingertips to her temples hard in an effort to get control. Her teeth ached from the strain of continually clenching them.
The men had a low conversation after breakfast while she drank coffee that tasted so bitter she could barely get it down. Adan had left. She’d put down the sudden uneasiness she’d felt at her only real ally leaving, but no matter how much she wanted to deny it, since awakening this morning, a slow heat had begun building in her body. Thick, like magma in a volcano, the heat moved through her veins and spread like an insidious addiction throughout her body.
It didn’t help that after breakfast the team decided to work with Jeremiah and her on fighting skills. Of course it was Conner touching her, totally impersonal, his hands placing her body in the correct position until just the brush of his fingertips made her want to scream with need. She was
not
going to miss this opportunity to learn from them, but their bodies were soon glistening with sweat and almost immediately the men shed their shirts.
She put everything she had into the workout, appreciating the difficult physical techniques of punching and kicking. She worked her body hard in an effort to sublimate. If she couldn’t have hot, sweaty sex and lots of it, she hoped to work herself to the point of exhaustion. Each time Conner corrected her stance, or her leg when she pivoted and kicked, it was all she could do not to jerk away from his scalding touch.
She deliberately put distance between them, trying to work on the spinning, jumping kicks and accurate punches. She heard Conner and Rio talking about sparring and stood with Jeremiah, trying not to notice the amorous glances he shot her way. Her cat wanted to rub along the tree branches, basically rub anything at all. All she wanted to do was rub herself all over Conner, but if they wanted sparring then that’s what they’d get.
Felipe was first to stand opposite her, his fists doubled, his hands up and his eyes focused on her. She could see he was trying not to breathe—not to inhale her scent. She’d never noticed that his lashes were so long, curling a bit at the tips. He had a nice nose and a firm jaw. He was extremely handsome, not quite as muscular as Conner or Rio, but lithe and supple . . .
“What the hell are you doing, Isabeau?” Conner demanded. “He just nailed you six times in a row and you didn’t even try to block.”
“He did?” She blinked rapidly and looked around at the circle of faces, a little confused. Had Felipe actually moved? “He didn’t hit me.”
“He pulled his punch because if he touched you, I’d knock his teeth down his throat,” Conner bit back, clearly exasperated. “You still have to block.”
He looked very sexy when he was angry. She’d never noticed that before. She reached out to rub the frown from his face. He jerked back, his breath exploding out of his lungs. She dropped her hand, pouting a little. “I’m trying, Conner.”
“Well, try harder,” he said gruffly.
His voice was thick and sexy, and another rush of heat slipped like fire through her veins. She liked that. Felipe was replaced by Elijah. Elijah seemed as if he was paying more attention to Conner than to her. Experimentally, she threw a series of light punches and kicks, determined to drive Elijah back. He didn’t retreat as he should have, but flicked his hand toward her with incredible speed. She could actually see the flow of his muscle, the firmness of his jaw, the sensual shape of his lips.
Flesh smacked flesh and she blinked. Conner’s open palm had captured Elijah’s fist just a scant inch from her face. “Isabeau,” he snapped between his teeth. “You aren’t trying.”
“I was. Really,” she protested. How was she supposed to concentrate when Elijah’s entire body seemed made of flowing muscle? It was poetic. And sexy. Hot. Downright hot.
Conner made a sound that bordered on a snarl. Elijah backed away from Isabeau, dropping his hands and shaking his head. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “I’m done here, Conner.”
Isabeau looked hopefully at Leonardo. Surely she could land a kick or two on him. The man looked as if he was terrified—going to his doom. That should tell Conner she was scaring the men.
Her body felt wonderful, very alive, every nerve ending sensitive and responsive. Every movement stretched her top taut over her peaking nipples, brushing them with the most delicious strokes, sending streaks of arousal dancing through her belly. When she moved with the sensuous flow of muscle, she was acutely aware of the mechanics of her body as she’d never been—of her own femininity and how perfectly wonderful jeans were, rubbing in all the right places when she picked up her leg to throw a kick.
Leonardo broke out in a sweat and abruptly dropped his hands, backing away from her as she glided closer. Conner stepped between them and caught her by the shoulders. “What
exactly
is that?”
“What?” She smiled at him dreamily. If she moved just a little closer to him, she could probably rub along his chest. She stepped into him.
“That noise. You’re purring,” he accused.
“Really? Am I?” She slid her body right up against his and rubbed her breasts along his chest, needing to leave her scent on him, enjoying the streaks of fire sizzling through her veins as her sensitive nipples tightened even more. “Did you know that you have the most amazing mouth?”
Rio made a noise somewhere between frustration and amusement. “This isn’t working, Conner. I think we’re going to work with Jeremiah’s shape-shifting for a while.” He pointed to a clearing a small distance away. “Over there.”
Conner turned his head to see the young leopard staring at Isabeau with a rapt look on his face, mouth open, nearly salivating. A soft hand inserted itself between Conner’s body and hers and rubbed the front of his jeans, right over his thick, aching groin, jerking his attention back to Isabeau. The purring had increased and her eyes had gone a little glazed. Swearing, he captured her wrists and yanked her hands to his chest, pinning them there. “Good idea,” he all but growled back. The kid needed distraction.
Isabeau’s cat needed to emerge soon or this wave had to be over before all the men went into some kind of snarling sexual frenzy. He could smell the testosterone rising. Things were going to hell fast. He needed to take control.
“You’re going to get someone killed,” he hissed at the cat.
He made the mistake of pulling Isabeau into his arms. All those soft curves melted into him. She leaned her face into his neck and licked. A delicate taste, her tongue like velvet stroking over his leaping pulse. His throbbing cock felt that tantalizing caress and jerked hard against the straining material of his jeans. Fire raced over his skin, burned into his bones, danced in his veins until he couldn’t think for the lust coursing through him.
“Come with me now.” He had the presence of mind to drag her into the trees, away from the sight of the others. She had no sense of self-preservation, going with him without a struggle, looking up at him with eyes drenched with desire.
His breath hissed out of his lungs and his mouth came down on hers before he had a chance to save them both. Temptation beat at him like a drum, pounding through his veins, through his cock—his entire nervous system inflamed—intoxicated—with her. He took her mouth with his own, long, drugging kisses until he couldn’t tell where he was anymore. Everything distanced, the trees, the brush, even the scent of the other men. There was only Isabeau, soft and warm, a siren dragging him deeper into her web of pleasure.
He’d been there before. Every bit of honor he possessed had gone up in flames once the taste of her had become an addiction—and it was starting all over again. He dragged his mouth from hers and stared down into her liquid eyes, fighting for breath, fighting his own needs.
“You have to get control, Isabeau.” His voice was hoarse. “Every man here is leopard. Do you have any idea of the havoc you’re wreaking?”
“I love your voice.” Her hands slipped under his shirt to find bare skin. “And your mouth. When you kiss it’s like fire spreading through me.”
Her voice was more seductive than anything he’d ever known, pouring over him, filling him, eating away his discipline. He closed his eyes briefly, attempting to remember how much trouble he’d gotten into before because he hadn’t been able to resist her lure—and she hadn’t had the added temptation of her cat emerging.
“Isabeau.” He gave her a little shake. It didn’t stop her wandering hands. “Look at me. You don’t want to do this. A few hours from now you’ll hate me even more than you already do. I let you down once and I’ll be damned if I do it again.”
Who the hell was he kidding? He didn’t have that kind of control. Not in a million years. He wanted her with every breath he drew. Not because of her cat, but because she was Isabeau Chandler, the woman he loved above all else. He dragged air into his lungs. He loved her and he knew the difference having been without her. He wasn’t going to let history repeat itself.
“Stop it, Isabeau.” His voice was harsher than he intended.
She went rigid, dropping her hands as if he’d burned her. She stepped back away from him. “I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable,” she said, her voice trembling. “We certainly wouldn’t want that, would we? The great Conner Vega. Funny how when seduction is your idea, there’s no problem.”
“Is that what you have in mind, Isabeau? Seduction? You’re playing with fire.”
She looked him up and down. “I doubt it. I don’t think there’s much left there.” Deliberately she turned and allowed her gaze to sweep the other males, open speculation on her face. “Sorry I bothered you.”
He caught her arm and swung her back to him when she would have walked away. “Don’t even think about it.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She looked at his hand and he let her go. She turned her back on him and walked away, her hips swaying, her hair a little wild, disheveled and tumbling around her face and down her back as if unknowingly he had loosened her ponytail. He didn’t remember doing it, but the feel of silk was still on the pads of his fingers.
Isabeau blinked back the tears burning in her eyes. She’d thrown herself at him and he’d turned her down. Her pride was on the ground, trampled. He didn’t want her. She ducked her head, bending at the waist to drag in air. It was a mistake. She could scent all the men now, a heady mix of lust and male potency.
If you don’t knock it off, you female hussy, I’m going to strangle you,
she hissed at her cat. She wanted to claw her way down Conner’s muscular back. Who would have thought muscles could be so defined? She knew it wasn’t the cat—or at least just the cat. She wanted Conner, and her cat emerging was a great cover.
But he didn’t want her.
How could that be when she wanted him with every fiber of her being? She couldn’t close her eyes without images of him haunting her. She couldn’t take a breath without needing him. Damn him for rejecting her. He had been the one spouting the law of the rain forest was a higher law, and yet when she’d taken the chance, he’d shut her down. It had taken every ounce of courage she possessed to get him to kiss her, hoping he’d take it from there. If he didn’t want her anymore, well . . . She lifted her head and looked at the men talking to Jeremiah in the clearing just a short distance away.
She’d told Adan she would try to seduce one of Imelda Cortez’s guards because she knew she would never feel for another man the way she felt for Conner. Seduction still had possibilities. Maybe being a leopard meant she could be promiscuous and not care. Maybe her moral scruples would be overcome much easier than she’d ever believed. She moved closer, wanting to hear what they were saying.
She was acutely aware of Conner joining the other men. He stood out. For her, she feared he would always stand out. The light fell across his hair and body, illuminating him in the darkened, dappled clearing. He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back haphazardly in the way she found sexy. She almost hated him in that moment. She looked away from him and her gaze met Jeremiah’s.
He kept casting Isabeau small amorous glances, unable to keep his eyes off of her. Clearly he found her attractive. He flexed his muscles for her and she tried not to be amused. It wasn’t fair that she thought of him as a young boy when he was nearly her age. Conner just seemed so much more of a man, with a man’s ripped physique.