Cat Scratch Fever (7 page)

“It’s nonnegotiable. The only way my pack will accept you as my wife and their leader is if we’re mate-bonded.”

“
Mate-bonded
?” It was yet another foreign term that was out of her vocabulary, but she knew enough about how wolves mated to be concerned.

Dante’s thumb brushed hers. More than likely he’d meant it to be reassuring, but it practically made her jump out of her skin. “Fortunately my pack doesn’t use the sexual act itself as part of the ceremony.”

Another choke lodged in her throat, and Dante gave her a quick thump on the back again to release it. She gaped at him, her cheeks burning. “Thank God for small miracles.” She considered herself far from being a prude, but the idea of having sex with him in front of an audience was enough to give her performance anxiety. Without warning, an image popped into her head of her straddling Dante, impaled on his fat cock while his hands massaged her jiggling breasts.

A strained noise broke loose from the back of her throat. She tried to cover it up by coughing. Dropping her arm to her lap, she fidgeted with the top button on her pants. When Dante’s focus drifted to her zipper, she jerked her hand to safer quarters. “I—I don’t understand why we wouldn’t be able to fake the mate-bond like the rest of the marriage. If your pack isn’t going to witness it, what difference does it make?”

“They don’t have to. They’ll know we didn’t do it if they don’t see my mark on you.”

“Your
mark
?” Oh for Pete’s sake. Could anything be more Neanderthal? “So tell them it’s in a private place that I have no intention of showing off.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Lilly. A wolf marks his mate to make it clear to all that she belongs to him.”

“Why don’t you just pee on me and get it over with?”

“You’re making more out of this than there needs to be.”

She tossed her arms up. “Sure. Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’d be marked and branded like damn cattle.”

“It doesn’t mean anything. You won’t actually belong to me.”

“Your pack will think I do. That’s just as bad.”

His eyes momentarily closed as he dragged in a deep breath and released it in a weary gust. When he looked at her again, his frustration was palpable. “Why do you have to be so mule-headed?”

“What? I’m stubborn because I think your sexist werewolf rules are stupid?”

“It’s not sexist. There are female alphas who bite their mates in the same fashion. And there are even couples who give each other matching marks.”

His pronouncement gave her pause, and she eyed him in contemplation. “Can I mark you?”

“Babe, you’re not a wolf.”

“You’re not a cat, and I’m—
possibly
—going to let you mark me. Fair is fair.”

She could hear his molars grind. “I’ll think about it.”

“Either you will or you won’t. That’s my terms.”

They stared each other down for an interminable time, their silent battle of the wills more epic than Custer’s last stand at Little Bighorn. She was fairly certain if she listened closely enough, she’d hear war drums in the distance.

A prominent muscle tic twitched at the corner of Dante’s eye. “Fine. But I get to be on top.”

Yeah. Definitely one hell of a romantic proposal. She gnawed her thumbnail, her heart racing at the ramifications of what she was about to commit to and the fear that she would ultimately live to regret it. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

A relieved breath gusted from Dante.

“I expect a written contract between us.” There was no way she’d be so foolish to take his verbal word about the land.

He nodded. “I’ll have it written up before we get married on Sunday.”

His easy declaration squeezed the oxygen from her lungs. “
Sunday
? As in four-freaking-days-from-now Sunday?”

“I know it’s last minute, but I don’t have any choice. The deed has to be done before next week.” He leaned down and squeezed her hand. “It’ll work out, Lilly, I promise.”

She stared at their linked fingers, imagining a pair of matching wedding bands.
What the hell have I agreed to?

Chapter Six

After their
negotiations
, she fully expected Dante to shrug his jacket on and head home. Instead he surprised her—yet again—by announcing he was going to make lunch for her. Bemused, but not about to turn down his offer, she tugged a blanket over her feet to combat the icy effects of the thawing bag of Brussels sprouts. Her cell went off just as she was beginning to relax into the chair. Leaning sideways, she snatched her parka from where it’d fallen to the ground earlier and dug her phone from the pocket. A quick scan of the display announced that the caller was Kinsey.

Oh God. Kinsey.
How the hell was she going to explain to her sister this business with marrying Dante for the land? She knew Kinsey would be adamantly against it and would no doubt have all kinds of unsavory ways to describe what they were doing. All of which would likely be no less than the truth. But that didn’t mean she wanted to listen to Kinsey chastise her for the next sixty years about the boneheaded mistake she was committing.

Deciding to postpone that inevitable argument, she let the call go to voicemail and stuffed the cell back in her coat pocket before dropping the garment onto the floor again. Despite her best efforts to ignore the nagging doubts building in her mind, she couldn’t completely block them out.

What the hell am I doing?
This whole plan is nuts.
She ran both hands down her face and smothered a groan. Dante chose that moment to walk back into the living room.

Awarding her a cautious glance, he plopped a plate loaded with a fresh bagel sandwich and chips on her lap. “Everything okay?”

She swallowed past the lump of worry lodged in her throat. “No one is going to buy this—you and I.”

“That’s why we have to make it convincing.”

“Trust me, I’m not that good of an actress.”

Dante rubbed his jaw. “Well, my old man already thinks we’ve got something going on.”

“Great. One down, a couple hundred more people to go. And that’s just counting your relatives.” She snatched a chip and nibbled its crinkled edge listlessly. The healthy appetite she’d possessed minutes ago seemed to have disintegrated. She dropped the half-eaten chip back onto the plate and exhaled heavily. “Speaking of relatives…I know my sister will never believe we’ve suddenly fallen madly in love. Crap, just yesterday I told her you were a perverted peeping Tom.”

A grunt issued from Dante, and she shrugged. “Hey, I was mad.”

He stroked his goatee. “Actually, that might work in our favor. I’m assuming you told her about what happened on the road?”

She nodded.

“So tell her I made you dinner as an apology, and one thing led to another.” His mouth tipped into another of those panty-wetting grins. “After one incredible night in the sack together, you knew you could never live without me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease.
No
one’s going to believe that.”

His palm curved over her knee. “I bet I can make you believe it.”

She tried not to focus on the distracting way his fingers brushed along the inner seam of her pants. “Don’t count on it.”

“Should I take that as a challenge?” His gaze still locked with hers, he took her plate and set it next to her coat.

Planting his hands on the chair’s upholstered arms, he boxed her in and leaned so close, she easily made out the flecks of gold in his irises. Compelling as his gaze was, her attention couldn’t help straying to his mouth. Her nipples tightened as she imagined those sexy, masculine lips traveling in a slow glide across her breasts and belly. What would his goatee feel like against her skin? Would it be scratchy and irritating, or soft and ticklish?

Unconscious of her actions, she reached up and traced her fingertips over his jaw. “Hmm, definitely soft and ticklish.”

A wicked sparkle danced in Dante’s eyes. “Were you having dirty thoughts about my beard?”

“Possibly.”

“Tell me what you were thinking.”

The husky persuasion in his voice proved to be her ultimate downfall. “I was wondering what it’d feel like on certain parts of my body.”

Dante licked his lips in a way that was incredibly…wolfish. “I can show you firsthand.”

The heat simmering inside her kicked into full boil. Dante’s nostrils flared, and the intensity in his eyes sharpened. “Christ. I smell how fucking turned on you are.”

“I can’t help it.” She swallowed hard and squirmed against the cushion. “It’s the hormones.”

“No, it’s more than that. And you know it.” His face inched closer until his breath mingled with hers. “You want me, Lilly. Admit it.”

“I don’t know what’s bigger—your ego, or your self-delusions.”

He gave her a predatory grin that prompted flutters in her stomach. “Neither is any match for the size of my cock. But then you already know that.”

He would have to bring up his impressive package at a time like this. Now she couldn’t get the damn thing out of her mind. Which wasn’t helping her present condition at all. “Another check mark for your massive eg—” The remainder of her comeback fell victim to the firm, sinful pressure of his mouth on hers. A shaky whimper escaped her. Dante took that as a convenient invitation to thrust his tongue past her lips.

She’d experienced plenty of kisses in her life. Not one of them came close to competing with the consuming hunger inherent in Dante’s. She could taste his desire. Feel his single-minded focus on her. It swept her up and left her breathless. His fingers tunneled insistently in her hair, angling her head back for a deeper exploration of her mouth. His tongue coaxed hers into play, and she eagerly obliged. God, she wanted to eat him up with a spoon. And that made absolutely no sense, considering how arrogant, obnoxious… chauvinistic… and… and…

She lost her train of thought as his roving hands massaged her breasts through her top. Inspired to do her own exploring, she smoothed her palms over Dante’s broad shoulders, trying to drag him closer and tug his flannel shirt off at the same time.

He pulled back, revealing an expression dark with passion. “There’s not enough room on this chair for us both. How about if we continue this on the couch?”

“My bed is bigger.” The suggestion popped free before she could halt it. Grinding her teeth at her loud-mouthed inner slut, she waited for Dante to smirk and lob an appropriately lewd crack at her. Instead, he scooped her into his arms, knocking the bag of Brussels sprouts onto the ground. He was careful with her ankle, something she appreciated—though honestly, she didn’t even register any discomfort anymore. Likely the improvised icepack had done the trick. That, or lust had blindsided her to the point all other sensations had skulked into the farthest recesses of her consciousness.

He walked down the short hallway and paused between the two open bedroom doors. “Which one?”

She pointed to the doorway to the left of them, and he strode inside the small room. He carefully arranged her on top of the patchwork quilt before stretching out beside her. His mouth found the tender spot beneath her ear and quickly discovered how easy it was to reduce her into a quivery, gasping wreck. She tore at his shirt again, desperate to touch warm flesh rather than flannel. This time he obeyed her wishes and released the top few buttons before growing impatient and yanking the garment over his head and tossing it aside. She snuggled against him, a happy purr leaking free.

He groaned and coasted his fingers along the curve of her spine. “Fuck, that’s sexy. Do you always purr like that?”

“Usually only when I’m in the middle of a heat cycle.”

His hand slid beneath her top and cupped her breast through the thin mesh of her bra. He rubbed her nipple with his thumb, and she arched into him. A feral growl rumbled from deep in his chest. “I wanna get you nekkid.”

“Oh God,
yes
.” So much for keeping her inner slut out of this.

Thankfully he required no further prompting and made short work divesting her of her top and bra. The rapt way he stared at her breasts brought a fresh surge of moisture between her legs. She whimpered as his hand splayed over her mound.

“I don’t even need to touch you to know how fucking wet you are.”

She didn’t doubt it. The clear evidence of her arousal scenting the air made it pretty damn impossible to miss. With Dante’s supersensitive nose, it was probably a thousand times more noticeable. She got her verification when he buried his face in the valley of her cleavage and inhaled with a lusty moan. His pupils dilated, making his eyes look exceptionally dark and predatory.

Witnessing the raw, animalistic hunger riding his features speared a sharp spike of excitement through her, leaving her dizzy and lightheaded. Plumping her breasts with his hands, he sucked her nipple between his teeth and laved it into a stiff, turgid peak with his tongue. Gasping, she wiggled on the mattress, shamelessly undulating against the hand he’d kept wedged between her legs. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as the consuming need inside her became an agonizing torment. She tugged at his hair, panting, and he finally lifted his gaze to hers.

He must have read the desperation in her eyes because he reached for her zipper and worked it down. Repositioning himself, he gently eased her pants and bikini down her legs before spreading her thighs enough to make room for his wide shoulders. His thumbs slid through the wetness coating her labia and held her open to his hot, devouring gaze. A millisecond later, his tongue swirled over her clit. She jolted at the intense sensation, her limbs trembling, but Dante’s big hands kept her hips pinned to the mattress and her pussy available for his feasting. And
oh God
, that was exactly what she felt like—the main entree in a luscious, decadent werewolf Happy Meal.

Unlike some males she’d been unlucky enough to experience oral sex with, Dante clearly knew what he was doing. He savored her pussy like it was the most delicious treat he’d ever eaten. Succulent plunges of his tongue inside her soaked channel alternated with teasing flickers and lazy, wet swipes across her slippery, distended clit. Her body jerked uncontrollably with each passing lap of his tongue. The soft abrasion of his beard scruff along her sensitive tissues only drove her faster and faster toward that dazzling peak in the rapidly approaching distance. Her chest impossibly heavy, she fought for breath.