Page 33 of Bad Blood Panther

“When I hold you, when I touch you like this, I feel good. Crazy good. When you’re sad or upset, I feel kind of…desperate inside. Like I have to fix it right now. When I think about you leaving, I feel like I’m going to fucking panic.”

He grazed his fingertips over her cheek.

“And I want to kiss you. Like, I want to make out with you forever and ever, all afternoon, and not even fuck because I just want to taste your lips and feel you all wrapped around me. Except I do want to fuck, because, you know, wow over there against the wall, and I keep thinking it would probably be even better if we did it again when we weren’t two minutes away from killing each other. Though that was pretty hot.”

She gave a tiny smile, but she was still unhappy. He could feel it. His stomach clenched.

“It’s not enough for you, is it?” he said. “Because of…the way you feel about me.” Because she loved him. Why had he never realized she loved him?

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I wish…”

She wished he loved her. Maybe he did. He wanted to love her, he realized. He wanted what he felt to be that.

“I always knew I’d suck at being a mate,” he said. “Even though my cat wanted one so bad.” He wanted one so bad. “The other guys are all sweet and fuzzy and romantic with their mates, and I’m not any of those things. But I can try. Maybe I’ll get better at it. If you stay. Maybe there are still some good things about me. The other girls see the good things in their mates, and they don’t seem to mind the fucked-up things. Maybe you can find some good in me.”

He looked down, and was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

“There are good things in you, Xander Fierro,” she said, touching his face gently. “You’ll see. And I’m going to show you all of them.”

She was staying. His eyes burned. Fuck. He was going to lose it.

He shifted position, moving over her, his elbows on either side of her. Her breasts were soft under his chest, and she smelled of sweat and arousal and of him, and he was suddenly struck with a pain so sweet it pierced his chest wide open.

He dipped his head, brushing his lips across her scarred cheek. “I don’t hate you anymore,” he said. “And I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Her arms came around him, pulling him close, and she cupped his face with her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

The tears spilled over, and he buried his face in her hair. “I’m sorry too,” he said. “For hurting you.” For not falling in love with you when I should have.

She opened her thighs, inviting him inside her once more.

He slid into her, feeling her warm and sweet like wild honey. That huge wave of emotion built inside him again, threatening to carry him away, and for the first time, he let it. He moved in her, letting it all go, and she accepted it, facing it with him. He let it take its own time, a slow build, until finally the emotion and sensation merged them into one.

And she was there, holding him, clenching and shuddering and drawing him in, accepting everything he was and everything he had been or would be. Her mouth found his and he could breathe again.

They rode out the last of the wave together, shaking.

Mates.

He didn’t know how he was going to pull this off, but he had to. He and his cat had found their one and only mate, and there was no way they could ever let her go. It would end them both.