Deliciously Mated(22)

He stared at her, his eyes sliding to the indention of her waist and her hips that flared wide. Her body was perfect for perpetuating the race, as she put it. His dream of putting a baby into his mate resurfaced. What a thrill it would be to have her with young. His young.

But hell if that was all her body was used for. It was made for so much more. It was made for pleasure. To receive it. To give it. To live it.

A new dream emerged. To have his mate living in pleasure. So sensitive to him and his touch that a mere breath against her skin made her hot. The things he’d do to that body. Completely non-functional things.

His jag purred in agreement.

She dropped her hands, causing her breasts to bounce from the sudden lack of support.

“But if it bothers you, I can shut the door.”

Bother him. Fuck no, it wasn’t bothering him. It was only making him burn below the belt like Satan had him by the balls.

Eagan managed a casual shrug. “Nah. It ain’t bothering me. My cat is just shredding my insides because it wants out for a taste of those hard functional nipples. That’s all.”

She gasped, her eyes going wide.

“Yeah. So, I dunno, maybe hurry it on up before things take a turn for the less functional.”

Quickly, she undid the button of her jeans. “Does it hurt?”

“What?”

“Your… cat.”

Eagan’s chest tightened knowing she was concerned. It was sweet. “Not really. But he usually gets what he wants.”

She hooked her thumbs in her waistband and pushed her jeans to the floor.

Fucking hell.

Fucking functional hell.

“No panties,” he rasped.

She wasn’t wearing any fucking panties. Nothing. Not a single fucking thing on her curvy hips. Eagan’s gaze took her in, not even bothering to fight it this time. Her legs were smooth and luscious, but a wild triangle of hair caught him off guard. Everyone was so well groomed these days, it was almost a shock to see what he assumed was six years worth of hair-down-there. But fuck him… fuck him hard… it was hot.

He brushed his fingers over his lips, grappling for control.

“I quit wearing panties years ago.” She stepped out of her jeans and bent to pick them up.

Eagan blinked. Damn, she was so feral. So wild. He was the shifter. He was supposed to be the wilder one. But no, this female with her outrageous body and her simplistic approach to life… she was the most straightforward, untamed, thing he’d ever encountered. How did a human best him at being feral? And why the hell was that so irresistible?

She handed him her clothes, and it was a damn miracle he was able to take them without grabbing her and pulling her against his body like he so wanted to.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said, starting to close the door. He smacked his palm against it to stop her.

“Take more than a few minutes.” His voice was tight. “I need some time.”

Her brow furrowed in concern. “Okay.”

His breath heaved as the door clicked closed. He stood there, listening as the water kicked on. The cat prowled inside. Mate was so close. Naked with the water rolling over her delectable body.

Eagan spun on his heel, marching through the kitchen area to the washing machine. He tossed Clara’s clothes in and added soap. He’d wait to start it until her shower was finished.

He turned, propping his hands on the edge of the washer, breathing deep. There was no hope his erection was deflating. His pants were so tight he might have to cut them off.

An ironic laugh escaped him. How their forefathers did it was beyond him. How they found any female more desirable than their mate. How they could stomach ever being with another. The way he felt about the female in his shower… they were just beginning, but the bond he felt for her already was the most powerful thing he’d ever experienced.

Maybe Renner was right after all. Maybe it was only a state of mind, and their instincts could be overridden by choice. Maybe you chose who you wanted to be, what kind of love story you wanted to live.

If it was true, if it was a choice… he chose her. Clara. Just Clara. For life.

Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back on his shoulders, a grin curving his lips.

Functional. He’d show her functional.





Chapter Eleven



Clara tried to take her time. She really did. But she had a feeling it wasn’t enough.

Her circumstances weren’t anything she’d ever imagined for herself. Trapped indoors with a paranormal creature. His apparent mate, whatever the hell that entailed. And many years of possible jail time nipping at her heels. The wild part of her kept looking for chances to escape back to her camp. To her skink. To anything that was her own. But the rational side, the thinking, planning, logical side of her knew the truth. That from the moment she’d lost her book to Eagan, her days of freedom were numbered.