Wicked, beautiful, seductive woman.
He did. He had her waiver. Oh, he liked that she liked to play.
“Let’s see how good your memory is, little cat.” He recited his number, eyes on hers. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to devour her.
A slow smile took her lips, and he could see her too-sharp canines.
He laughed and shook his head, forced his attention away from her. “Two and a half hours. Make yourself at home.”
He adjusted his dick and made his way outside. He had to take a minute on the porch, eyes closed as he tried to get his body under control.
Everything in him wanted to turn around and block out his responsibilities and fuck her against the kitchen counter, on the kitchen floor, against the banister, in front of the fireplace, on his bed. He wanted to spend every minute of the rest of today teaching her to crave his body.
He blew out a shaky breath, cast one more hungry glance at his front door, then jogged down the stairs and into the yard.
He had to get ahold of himself for a few more hours, and then he could have her.
A text vibrated his phone, and he pulled it out of his back pocket and opened the picture from an unknown number.
It was a close up of Moira’s lacy bra peeking out from under her skintight tank top.
Atta girl. Her memory was just fine.
This was about to be the longest afternoon of his life.
Chapter Five
She was here.
She was really doing this.
Moira looked around Cam’s den as the nerves inside of her presented as a slight trembling in her body. He wanted her. She could tell. He was all over her, and she hadn’t been silly to just show up here.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispered to herself.
She had lost her mind. Never before had she ever done anything like this. And truth be told, she’d shot whiskey just to build up the nerve to get on the shuttle.
Right about now, she was regretting not getting a rental car at the airport when she’d flown in, because she depended entirely on the shuttle to return to pick her up now. Plus, if she had a rental car, she could panic and drive herself away from here, convincing herself that he wouldn’t like her body or something silly like that.
No. No!
She remembered Cam being all over her, and the hunger in his eyes. Good Lord, he was so hot. Moira had never met a bear shifter in person before. They felt really big and dominant to a smaller and more submissive shifter like her.
They would look so silly Changed together. A twelve-foot-tall grizzly and a nine-pound housecat.
Good grief what was she thinking.
She organized the groceries she’d brought in the kitchen and then placed her hands on her hips and looked around. It was strange having a stranger trust her with being in his home alone. What if she was a thief or something? Or a con artist? He was much too trusting.
A picture was hanging on the wall, and she walked over to it and studied the hockey team. The boys were maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, and grinning. One of them was missing a front tooth. They wore shoulder pads and were all holding hockey sticks and were positioned on the ice with their arms slung around each other as they cheesed for the camera. They looked sweaty and excited, like the picture had been snapped right after they won a game or something.
She walked slowly around the room, touching the stones on the hearth, the wood of the mantle, the soft fabric of the couch. She sifted through the magazines on the coffee table. They were all hunting and fishing and outdoor editions.
She ran her fingertip along the banister as she made her way upstairs to the loft. Cam’s bed was unmade and inviting, and the black sheets looked shiny and soft. She touched the fabric, and then the closest pillow. Satin, nice.
She sank down on the edge of the mattress and looked around. What if Cam changed his mind while he was out on the trail? What if he talked himself out of sleeping with her, or decided he wasn’t that attracted to her? What if he came in here and asked her to leave on the shuttle with the tour?
Her cheeks heated. That would make sense. He was him, and she was her.
