Page 22 of Herding Cat

“We should go.” He did her the great courtesy of allowing her to collect some of her things before he took her arm and led her to the door, although she did not want to be led. He poked his head out and scanned the hall in both directions before he escorted her to the left and toward the stairs. When she resisted at the door, he frowned at her. “My room is one floor down. We shouldn’t use the elevators.”

She didn’t see how the stairs were safer than the elevators when one was being hunted by assassins, because assassins probably knew how to use both—but she assumed he had secret knowledge she did not, and conceded the point.

To her surprise, his room was right below hers. It made her belly tingle to think she’d been sleeping on top of him all week. But his room was nothing like hers. For one thing, it was a usual-sized hotel room with two queen beds. For another, it was cluttered beyond belief with what she could only define as man stuff. From socks to boots to half-eaten snacks. And both beds were unmade. One had a towel draped across it, which she could only imagine had once been damp.

She crossed her arms and frowned at him.

“Sorry about the mess.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “We put out the do not disturb because we have all our equipment in here.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It smells like a frat house.”

His lips quirked, but not in a smile. “Been in a lot of frat houses, have you?”

Her frown morphed into a glower, but then she caught his expression...just before he looked away. It made something sizzle in her veins.

He cleared his throat. “You’re exhausted. You should get some sleep,” he said in a flat tone. His expression was blank. Too blank. She could tell he was trying very hard not to show her...something.

She couldn’t help it when her attention flicked over his body...and to his groin.

Heat savaged her when she saw it. That bulge.

Because it revealed what he was really thinking. And she couldn’t deny, she was thinking it too.

The adrenaline coursing through her system had awakened a ferocious hunger. Adrenaline did that, she’d read. Somewhere.

When he noticed the direction of her gaze, he stiffened. A sound emanated from his throat, something feral and frustrated, and he broke. He came to her in a rush, pulled her into his arms and kissed her again.

It was glorious. Warm and wet and mindless. Just what she needed.

This time, there was no man on the floor. No one. They were alone. In his room. There was no one to interrupt them, no one to derail this avalanche of need.

And now, all of a sudden, the musty odors hanging on the air were reminiscent of something intense and physical and raw.

He held her tight as he walked her backwards, until she hit the wall, and then he pressed himself against her. Her mind spun, her pulse pounded. Her body ached for more.

Perhaps it was the trauma of the day, one hit after another, that loosened her hold on her self-control. Maybe it was the adrenaline still surging in her veins, but she needed, wanted nothing more than this. Than him.

But she had to press that need away. “I thought we discussed this. I’m too old for you.”

He snorted.

“I am.”

He tugged her closer, wrapped his muscled arms around her and rocked back and forth in a far too playful manner. “Maybe I like older women,” he purred.

Her frown blossomed. “No one likes older women.”

“Older women are sexy. And experienced. And they know what they want. They take what they want.”

Well, that made sense. But then she wanted it to. “You...like a woman who takes what she wants?”

“There’s something to be said for lying back and letting a cougar feast on you.”

Well, hell. She bristled. “I’m not a cougar.”

“A lioness then.”

She put out a lip. “I’m not a lioness. I am not a jungle cat of any kind.”