“This was a bad idea.” Such a bad idea, because like a fever, thoughts of Francine consumed him, and his Jenny remedy just wouldn’t do.
“What was a bad idea? Dancing? We can leave anytime you like. My roommate’s gone for the night. We’ve got the place to ourselves,” she said seductively, pressing herself to his side.
God, how he wished he could take her up on the offer. Screw something until this crazy mess in his head sorted itself. But the thought of banging Jenny and not Francine shriveled his dick better than an arctic swim.
Shit, how to get out of this pickle? Honesty seemed like his best option. Wasn’t that what women always clamored for? “The mistake I meant was you and me going on a date. I’m sorry, Jenny, you’re a nice girl and all, but I think we need to just be friends.”
Her jaw dropped and hurt made her eyes glisten. “But, I thought you wanted to be with me? Isn’t that why you called? I mean, everyone knows you and me are going to get together eventually. You just need to sow some oats first before you settle down.”
Feeling like an ass, but needing to make sure she didn’t misunderstand, Mitchell took a deep breath before speaking. “Listen, Jenny. I called you because I was horny. It was wrong of me, I admit it. But I realize now, I can’t do that to you. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“How is it unfair if I’m willing? You don’t have to propose to me tonight. Let’s just go back to my place and I’ll show you why you made the right call.”
She clutched at him, and Mitchell pried her fingers free, trying to refrain from grimacing in distaste. “No. I can’t. I was trying to use you to forget someone else, but it’s not going to work. We aren’t going to work. I’m sorry. I’ll just drive you home.”
“Who is she?”
“No one.” The hottest woman alive. “I’m sorry, Jenny. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”
Anger twisted Jenny’s features. “Screw you, Mitchell. Don’t do me any fucking favors. I’ll get my own ass home, and it won’t be alone,” she yelled, shoving at his chest before stalking away.
Sighing, he turned back to the bar and ordered a beer. Despite the nastiness of the past moment, relief swept through him, quickly followed by urgency, make that an overwhelming need to keep tabs on Francine. Sweating brown bottle in hand, he sauntered over to the edge of the dance floor, calling himself all kinds of stupid for doing it, but unable to stay away. Sipping his brew, he found himself riveted by the sight of Francine dancing in the arms of her lover. Or is it mate like she implied? Even the thought roused his wolf, which paced in his mind with a snarl. A rumbling sound of discontent slipped from him that increased with each beer he downed, watching as the girl he lusted after, pure and simple, enjoyed herself in the arms of another.
When Alejandro finally left her side, making his way to the men’s room, Mitchell weaved a path to her side where she stood sipping some fluorescent tinted drink.
“Are you and he an item?” His question emerged terse and abrupt.
Brown eyes of the sweetest chocolate perused him. Her lips pursed, their fullness captivating him. “Would you care if we were? Or are you going to feed me that bullshit about me being a sister and all again?”
“I was just trying to look out after you. I care about you, Francine.” And I want to kiss you, dammit.
“But you don’t love me,” she stated baldly.
The answer she wanted eluded him. Did he love her? Yes, but as a lover? He wanted her, with an erotic urgency that surprised him. But, he couldn’t lie and tell her he loved her when he still saw her as little more than a friend-a hot and sexy one. “No. But-”
“Do you love Jenny?”
“No. Of course not.”
A heavy sigh left her. “What do you want from me, Mitchell? You want to fuck? Is that it?”
“Yes. No.” He scrubbed hand through his hair, frustrated but still unsure of what he wanted. Actually, he knew what he wanted. To strip her naked, lick every inch of her, then fuck her with his cock until she screamed in his arms. But, at the same time, doing that would open a huge can of worms that he didn’t think he was prepared for. “I want things to go back the way they were, when it wasn’t so freakn’ complicated.”
“You mean before I forced you to actually pay attention to me. To realize I am a woman with needs. A woman looking for her mate to claim her, or at least put out the fire in her body.”
“A part of me wants to,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to stroke a tendril of hair from her face. “But another part of me keeps screaming it’s wrong.”
“I’m not going to wait forever.”
“Can’t you wait long enough for me to sort through this mess in my head? I don’t want to rush into something that we’ll both regret.”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes, and before she could answer, the cat returned, his arm sliding around her from behind. Jealousy stung Mitchell at the casual way she accepted Alejandro’s embrace and the easy way she leaned back into his body, finding refuge in his touch. I should be the one holding her!
“We were talking,” he growled.
The seducer fixed him with a cold stare. “No, you were making excuses. Again. And I’m tired of it. Some of us aren’t afraid to admit our feelings. To act.” Brazenly, Alejandro, ran a hand up her torso until he cupped a breast. Francine’s breathing hitched, but she did nothing to remove his palm, and an urge to cup her other breast came over Mitchell. He almost had to grab his hand to stop it from actually doing it.
He took a step back in the hopes some space would help him regain control. The cat’s words penetrated. “You’re mates?”
“Not yet, but we will be,” Alejandro said with calm assurance. But Mitchell didn’t miss the surprise in Francine’s eyes when he said it.
“Don’t do it, Francine,” he said, his jealousy winning the battle. “He’s a womanizer. He’ll fuck you then leave you for the first pussy that comes his way. He’ll make you-”
Faster than he would have credited the bastard, Alejandro tucked Francine behind him and threw the first punch, the force of it making Mitchell stagger, his ears ringing. With a roar of rage, and using his turmoil-and blue balls-to fuel it, he attacked back. Fists swinging, he fought the bastard who thought to claim Francine. Who thought to touch the silky skin that he dreamt of. Who kissed the lips that should press against his. Who dared to try and claim his woman.
The screams of bystanders along with the cheers faded into the background as he slugged it out with Alejandro, the satisfying sound of his fist connecting with flesh making him grin savagely. A smile lost when a right hook back loosened some teeth.
The fight lasted only minutes before the bouncers, shapeshifters on steroids who almost rivaled Ethan in size, pried them apart and tossed their asses out of the club. Sprawled on the pavement, Mitchell raised his head, his beast pulsing at the forefront. He snarled, baring his teeth. The damned cat, on all fours, tossed his head back and growled right back, his eyes more animal than human. Their staring match ended up broken by a curvy pair of calves. Letting his gaze travel up the skin, Mitchell swallowed as he saw right up Francine’s short skirt. He couldn’t help but stare at the damp fabric clinging to a cleft whose scent drifted down to him like the sweetest of perfumes.
“Are you done?” she demanded, tapping a foot. “And you can stop looking up my skirt, Mitchell. I am not happy with either of you. I am not some fucking toy that you can use in your testosterone match of tug of war.”
“I’m sorry, Francine.” The cat’s immediate reply came out contrite, and Mitchell sneered.
“Pussy.”
“Enough,” she yelled. “Did you not just hear me, Mitchell? For a guy who can’t say the words ‘I want you’, you’re acting like a possessive jerk.”