Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [61]
“What . . . do you think you’re doing?” Asha bent down to pick up the cat, clearly intent on evicting him. Jago figured he wasn’t far behind, unless he did some quick convincing. She groaned as she hefted the feline into her arms. “Ugh. No cat is this heavy. You must be a nose guard for the Chicago Bears in the off season.”
“We’ve come to keep you company—that’s what we are doing.”
Asha shoved the cat against his chest, hard. “Take your—”
“Pussy?” he supplied with an impish grin. He just kept his hands on his hips, staring at her as she pushed the cat at him again.
She pursed that kissable mouth. “When in America . . . They use that word differently here.”
“Oh?” He gave her his most innocent expression. “Do tell. How do they use it?”
“Eegit, take your cat and leave. You’re not getting in my bed by flashing that sexy chest.” Asha tried to appear grumpy, but didn’t quite succeed. She sounded breathless.
“My chest is sexy? Guess it matches my sexy lips, eh?” He moved forward, stalking her as she backed up, until the kitchen bar hit her backside. Placing a hand on either side of the counter, he trapped her. He leaned near, letting her feel the high heat of his skin. She clutched the rotund cat to her chest like a shield. “Want to see what else on me is sexy, Asha?”
He moved closer to where she could only inhale his male pheromones. He tilted his head to the side of her face, nuzzled the hair against her ear. If she was getting as much of a buzz off him as he did her, he’d better stop pushing her buttons and ease down a notch on the sexual play. “This night is going to be hard enough—no pun intended there—so I better back up before you jump my bones and I can’t fight you off.”
“You arrogant . . . Ooooh . . . me jump your bones?” Asha fussed.
“See, Puss? The cat doesn’t have her tongue, after all.” Jago chuckled, then lightly kissed her cheek. “Relax, Angel May, I didn’t come over here to offer myself up for your depraved sexual abuse.”
“You didn’t?” She blinked, confused. Disappointed?
He chuckled at that expression. She looked so deliciously rumpled that he wanted nothing but to take her to bed and make love to her—all night. Though it might put a crimp on his libido—tonight was about making her trust him. He wanted hot sex with Asha. Hey, he was male and she intrigued him, lured him, taunted him more than any woman he had ever known. Only, he wanted more than one night with Asha Montgomerie.
As matters stood, the whole situation was pretty complicated. His falling in love with Asha hadn’t been part of Desmond’s plan. He needed to gain her trust or things between them could spiral out of control, maybe destroy them both.
“You, me and What’s His Name are going to bed—to sleep. Just sleep, Asha.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. “Your spacing out scares me, lass.”
“Oh . . . that.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but instead looked down at the cat she was holding. “Nothing to fash about.”
“Okay, I won’t. Nevertheless, you had an occurrence last night. Another tonight. I’m not leaving you alone. End of discussion.”
Ridiculously, she shoved the cat at his chest again. “What makes you think you can come in here and dictate anything to me—”
His hands took her upper arms and yanked her to him. The poor puss was squished between them, but Jago didn’t let that stop him. He kissed Asha, took her mouth with every ounce of ravenous need she provoked within him. Not gentle, he channeled all the fear she’d caused with the two blackouts into passion, let loose the hunger that had him prowling to the refrigerator several times a night for months. The pounding drive to mate promised this was the one, the only woman for him. Fortunately, the cat was still between them and squirming. That last shard of reason stopped him from lifting her atop