Feehan, Christine Leopard Series (1 2)

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discuss. And what was the point?
Rio lay listening to her breathing, his body so hard he felt that just one more brush against her skin might
be the last straw. He would shatter into a million pieces. Sleeping on the floor away from her wouldn't
stop it. Cold showers didn't help. The house was too small for the two of them to share unless they were
together, and sleeping in the bed next to her and not touching her was just plain impossible.
Intellectually he knew it was because she was close to the Han Vol Dan and she was affecting him with
her ripe scent.
He wanted to blame it on that, the age-old call of female to male, but in truth, he wanted her in so many
other ways. She made him happy and he didn't even know why. He didn't care why. He wanted her in
his home. At his side. With him. It was fairly simple as he saw it.
Women. They always managed to complicate the simplest issue. He sat up, careful not to disturb her. He
would get no sleep if he didn't slip out into the night and run. The farther and faster the better.
Rachael hoped she was dreaming. It wasn't a frightening nightmare, but it was disturbing. Not so much
the images, but the idea of it all. She could see herself, stretching her body, arching her back, in the
throes of sexual need. Not just a wanting a craving, an obsession. The need was so strong she could
think of nothing but finding Rio. Being with Rio. Rio's hands touching her, stroking her body, driving into
her with wild abandon. There was heat and fire and still she wasn't satisfied. She could see her body
rippling With pleasure, her body sleek and moist. Rio rolled over, pulling her on top of him, arid Rachael
threw back her head, thrust her breasts in invitation as she rode him frantically. She turned her head to
look back at the sleeping Rachael, her face contorting as fur rippled over her body.
Rachael shook her head, stirred drowsily, wriggled a little to find the warmth and reassurance of Rio's
body. He wasn't there. She turned over, careful of her injured leg. She was definitely alone in the bed.
The house was dark, not unusual, Rio never lit a lamp, preferring to pad around the house barefoot, in
the nude. He seemed to have such an affinity with the night, preferring that time to any other. Nothing in
the shadows affected him or frightened him. He never really seemed to sleep deeply.
The few times she woke in the dark, he was already alert, the change in her breathing enough to awaken
him.
She lifted her head and studied the room. The mosquito net hanging over the door swayed like a dancing
ghost in the wind. The door was open. Rio had gone on one of his many midnight adventures. He always
came back more relaxed, the tension gone from his body. He was usually covered in sweat and would
walk softly over to the basin to wash. Rachael loved watching him. She should have felt guilty, a voyeur,
but she didn't. She simply feasted her eyes on his body, watched the ripple of his roped muscles and
appreciated the fact that he was so intensely male.
Something shoved at the mosquito netting. A large dark head thrust its way into the house. Rachael froze,
her heart in her mouth. Fritz snarled, hissed and rose to back unsteadily toward Rachael. She reached
put her hand to the little clouded leopard, touched the fur as he slunk beneath the bed, still hissing.
Rachael didn't take her gaze from the huge, heavily muscled animal pushing his way through the flimsy
mosquito net into the house.
The leopard was the largest wild animal she'd ever encountered. It was a male, weighing close to two
hundred pounds, pure muscle, exotic black fur from its head to the tip of its tail, its eyes a vivid
yellow-green. The leopard swung its head this way and that, peering around the room, ignoring the small
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snarling cat as if it was beneath its dignity. It stepped fully into the house, the tail switching from side to
side. It rubbed its shoulder against the chair and sink, all the while staring at Rachael with far too much
intelligence in its eyes.
She moved her hand very slowly, bringing it into the bed, sliding it under the pillow to find the reassuring
metal of the gun. Curling her fingers around the grip she pulled it in slow motion toward her. Beneath the
bed, Fritz snarled loudly. "Hush," she whispered, trying to keep her voice low so she didn't trigger the
leopard into an attack.
To her amazement, the little cat went silent. The black leopard continued rubbing its body along the
furniture, all the while staring at her. She lay still, unable to look away. As the animal approached her,
Rachael forgot to bring the weapon up to aim. The animal didn't use a slow stalk, it simply padded over
to her, rubbing the length of its body along the bed. It rubbed its head along her arm, the fur soft and
unbelievably luxurious. Her breath caught in her throat. She had to fight an impulse to bury her fingers in
the fur, to rub her face in the neck and shoulder of the animal.
The leopard began a slow systematic rub of her body with its head, chin and cheeks, rubbing down her
shoulder and across her breasts. It stretched across the bed to rub her stomach and the junction between
her legs, took its time rubbing over her good leg and, after sniffing her wounded leg, was careful as it
rubbed its way back up her leg to her head.
The leopard's breath was warm against her skin as it nudged her shoulder, giving her the impression the
animal wanted her to scratch it. The gun slipped from her hand to rest on the blanket and she sank her
fingers into the thick fur. It was daring and nearly overwhelming, a wild and crazy impulse she couldn't
control. She traced the darker shadow of rosettes buried in the dense black fur with her fingertips.
Tentatively, she began to scratch the leopard's ears and neck, became bold enough to scratch along its
broad chest. She could see several scars in the fur, indicating the cat had been in more than one fight, but
the animal was a magnificent specimen of its kind. Muscles ran like steel beneath the fur, wrapped around
the body in every direction. She should have been terrified at being in such close proximity, but the night
took on a surreal quality.
Up so close she could see the whiskers were very long, and were on the upper lips, cheeks, chin, over [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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