The Cougar's Bargain (22 page)

“Give me a minute to process this, will you? No, actually, don't.” He stood with assistance of the desk's edge, swatted a few straggling hairs back from his face, and shuffled toward the bathroom. “I'm going to take a shower. And then I'm going to go to bed. Yeah. I'm going to go to sleep, and when we all wake up, things will make sense. Yep. It's just the beer and I'm tired.”

“It's not the beer, Steve. We're not that dru—”

The bathroom door closed behind him with a resounding click.

“Ugh.” Hannah looked down at the lounging cat. “Well, now that
that's
over, maybe you should go to bed, too. He might be a little less neutral about it tomorrow. No, he definitely will be because he's Steven and Steven doesn't bother having an opinion unless it's a strong one. I guess we should brace ourselves for it.”

Sean's cougar shoulders moved in some motion that approximated a shrug and he got to his feet.

She let him into the adjoining room, him wrapping his tail around her legs as he went.

“'Night, cat.”

He made a soft, growling noise and herded her away from the door, farther into the room.

“No. Wrong way. I need to go back to—”

He bumped her again.

She was no match for his muscular bulk. Between his weight and height, there was nowhere for her to go but down when he stood on his rear legs and pushed her back onto the bed.

“I can't stay in here.”

He leaped onto the bed and swatted at her shoes.
Sure you can
, he seemed to be saying.

She sighed and rubbed her heels against the side of the bed until her shoes were loose, and then kicked them off. “Bossy.”

He walked a small circle on the bed and settled next to her legs, flicking his tail idly as he stared at her.

“You understand why Steven would think this is weird, right? Because it totally is.” And Steven was going to come out of the shower and head next door, wondering where Hannah went. He'd barge in and see the cat on the bed. There'd be more questions, and Hannah wouldn't have all the answers.

She ground the heels of her palms against her eyes and let out a long, ragged breath. “Best I preempt him.” With a groan of exhaustion, she walked to the shared door and put up a hand to the cat who'd sprung back to his feet on high alert. “Just stay there. I'm going to leave a note for Steven.”

She had no idea what words to use, but seeing as how there was no established etiquette for the scenario, anything likely would have been better than nothing.

“Let's see …” She found a sheet of old, yellowed motel stationary in the nightstand drawer, uncapped the pen with her teeth, and wrote:

She considered scratching out that last part, but it was a statement so typical of their relationship that at the very least, he'd know she was in her right mind, or at least in the general vicinity of it. She didn't want to be anywhere near him when the heaviness of the situation collapsed onto him. Even tipsy, he'd been putting the pieces of the puzzle together pretty well, but when he understood that his sister was the same kind of beast as Sean, and that being so granted her a special role in her new group, he'd freak. He'd try to shoulder his way in and micromanage her life. The fact she had one mind to
let
him was why she had to try harder not to let that happen.

It was her burden, her problem. Not Steven's.

She left the note just outside the bathroom on the floor where he'd immediately see it upon opening the door—or else step on it—and then let herself into Sean's room.

The cat was still sitting up and flicking his tail.

“Simmer down.” She locked the door, set her cell phone on the nightstand, and climbed back onto the bed. She put herself at the edge to give the cat some space to move around in sleep, but apparently he didn't want it. He moved closer and nudged her hand until she laid it on top of his head. “You're making it so I'll never want to get a pet.”

He made a huffing noise.

“I hope you don't plan on spending much time in that shape. The last thing I need is a high-maintenance boyfriend. I'd have—”

Boyfriend. No.

Obviously, the beer had hijacked her brain and mouth. Fortunately, though, he didn't seem to catch the gaffe.

She swallowed and tried to pick up the train of thought. “I … uh. I'd have to … follow you around and make sure you didn't get picked up by a zookeeper or something.” She trailed her fingers down the column of his nose, stroking between his eyes again and again until he closed them.

“Then again, you'd probably like that. You'd get put into a cage with some compliant domesticated cougar you could have your way with. You wouldn't have to scrounge for food because the zookeepers would toss it at you. Your only worry would be finding a nice shady spot to rest in so you don't roast your brains out during midday.”

He made that little huffing noise again, but didn't open his eyes. He settled onto his side, his head on her belly and front paws shoved into her face as he smacked his chops.

“Jerk. I guess I should be happy you haven't been scratching in a litter box. Are Were-cougars susceptible to the same sicknesses as domestic cats? Like, are you giving me toxoplasmosis just by having your paws in my face?”

He gave her nose a little swat.

“Be like that, then, rascal.”

He made that noise again, and it clicked in her what it was. Had that cat been in his man's shape at the moment, it would have been a scoff. The man would have had a comeback for everything Hannah said, likely, “Fine. I will.” Not that he needed her permission to be a dickhead.

On a sigh, she closed her eyes. “How come I got assigned a dickhead for a mate? What have I fed into the cosmos that I would be deserving of such retribution?”

The cat snorted and pressed his paw against her mouth. “
Shut up
,” he seemed to be saying.

“Fine,” she muttered behind it. “But not because you told me to. Because I was going to anyway.”

She just had to have the last word. Maybe because growing up, she was never allowed to.

It was such a small amount of power, but it felt so good to wield. Better than anything else, including being
La Bella Dama's
avenger.

Warmth. Tender warmth. Silken touches. Gentle kisses …

Her belly quivered under the feather-light touches and a gasp rattled from her parted lips.

Not a dream.

Blessedly, she hadn't had a dream for once.

She opened her eyes to the dark, and in a moment, her vision adjusted for the dim moonlight through the drawn curtains. That big lump on the dresser was Sean's bag, and the head hovering over her core was his.

“You smell so good,” he whispered, catlike eyes bright beacons in the dark. “Feel so good.”

“I—”

“You don't have to say anything unless you want to say no.”

She swallowed, because she did feel like she had to say something. She didn't know what, though, just something to wrest a bit of control. She hated feeling like she didn't have any because she'd fought so hard in the past decade or so to be independent—to be the woman her parents didn't think she was capable of being.

But Sean didn't know about all that shit. He wasn't jumping on the bandwagon and trying to be yet another person trying to run her life.

“I just want to
touch
you. We don't have to talk about it.”

She closed her mouth. Dragged her tongue across dry lips. Nodded.

He put his lips where he'd had them before, just above her navel, and kissed up her belly, both arousing and tickling. She gasped at the former, and dug her fingers into the covers on the latter because she didn't want him to think she didn't like it. Didn't want him to stop.

Nudging up her shirt, rib by rib, he kissed the skin he exposed, rolling his gaze up to watch her face, but she had to close her eyes. She couldn't look at him. She'd want to analyze each expression, each tic of his features and try to figure out whether he was enjoying himself, or if he was just going through the motions.

But why would he do that?

She shook her head.
No. Stop thinking.

Thinking was just as bad as talking, and she didn't want him to stop.

He was so slow, so careful. Inciting goose bumps to form on her and curling her toes without doing much of anything. The soft, flexible tip of his nose skimmed up her sternum and he dragged his tongue behind it, leaving a wet, hot trail of what seemed to be magic burning through her skin and tightening her insides.

“I want to see you in the light,” he whispered as he hooked his fingers inside her bra. “You've seen me, but I haven't gotten to see you.”

Lips parted, she sucked in some air, but could find no words to send back on the return.

“Who's gotten to see you shift? Hmm?” He nudged down the cups of her bra and tugged her nipples between his fingers.

Her body bowed and she clung to him reflexively, neither throwing him off of her nor encouraging him. She just kneaded at his back, teeth gritted and toes clamped.

“Who's gotten to see you strip down to nothing?”

“Why do you care? I'm sure half the town has seen you nude.”

“There's nothing special about me being nude. Nobody cares.”

She doubted that. She certainly cared, and more and more with each passing moment, given the way his hard body pressed against her and his arousal teased the insides of her legs.

“But you're not a born shifter. You're not desensitized to nudity.” He dipped low and pulled a nipple into his mouth.

“God.”

She both writhed beneath him and thrust her chest upward, silently beseeching him to take more of her in—to not stop.

“Answer me.” He rolled her other nipple between his fingers and sucked some more.

“Uh …” She slid her hands up his back and into his hair, holding his head in place as he tormented her with his tongue.
What was the question?
Something about
…
Oh.
“I'm a nurse. Nudity isn't a big deal.”

He let her fall from his mouth and rested on his forearms, staring at her. “So like I said. My naked body does nothing for you.”

“I never said that. I …”

She let the words fall off, uncertain of how to fill in the blanks.
I what?
That she liked his naked body a great deal whether watching him coming or going? He was tall and lithe as a cat with just the right balance of bulk and leanness. His ass was fit to grab, tight and muscled with a little extra for her to dig her fingers into. Not that she'd tried, but she'd certainly looked enough in two months. But he had to know how he looked—how women responded to him. “You're playing with me. You're trying to put me on the defensive.”

He furrowed his brow. “It was a simple question.”

“You already know the answer. You strut around like a peacock and think no one's supposed to pay attention, that everyone is desensitized because all you cats have been shifting since puberty, and I can assure you that's not the case.”

“Meaning what?”

“Women in the glaring still look at you.
Admire
you. No one has stopped paying attention.” And she had to hear all about it, because she couldn't
not
perk up and tune in whenever Sean's name was brought up in a whispered conversation. She listened when they thought she couldn't hear. They'd all thought it was a pity that such a fine specimen of man would go to waste because of a curse. Because of Hannah.

“I'm not worried about them. I'm talking about you specifically. Do you see me? Do you pay attention to me at all when I'm not touching you?”

Her reflex was to give him a quick no—to not give him the upper hand. She hated that that was what she'd become. She hated not being able to be honest with herself. It wasn't fair to her or Sean. “I pay attention.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“What did you expect me to do? Just come quietly and submit meekly to you? You were a stranger. I didn't know you, and you could have been dangerous.” And he
was
dangerous, just not in the ways people would have assumed.

He pushed himself upright and stared down at her.

“Answer me. You demanded an answer from me, so now I want one from you.”

“I didn't know what I was going to get, Hannah. Honestly. When Lola sent us out to take mates, only Mason knew who, specifically, he was looking for. The only thing Hank and I knew was that our mates would be with her. I'd hoped if I had to take a mate I didn't choose for myself that we'd at least get along.”

“She claims that you were chosen for me as much as I was for you.”

“And what do you think of that?”

She shrugged. Or at least did something approximating a shrug seeing as how she was on her back.

“Do you think she could have done better? Or would you prefer she didn't meddle at all?”

“I—” Hannah closed her mouth on the quick answer because it was just going to be garbage—gibberish she hadn't fully thought out. She needed to think before she talked, even if her response was slow in coming.

Would she have preferred Lola hadn't meddled? Perhaps at first she would have thought that, but at the moment, Hannah couldn't imagine going backward. Tried as she might have, she couldn't imagine a life that didn't have Were-cougars in it. Obviously Sean was one of those, and so was she. What she felt about him specifically, though—that was harder to untangle. She didn't have any context to parse the emotions from. No experience in love, and not all that much lust, either.