Her hot, wet flesh clenched against his invasion but then eased and caressed him, holding him tight and forcing him to take it easy. Kat had stilled, her hands on his hips, her eyes wide, her moistened lips parted, her breathing nonexistent.
For an instant, he took in the beauty of their joined bodies, her dark curls splayed against the pillows, her even darker short curls wet and encircling his shaft, her skin glistening with perspiration. He wanted to memorize every detail of the sounds and smells and sights in that instant to take with him wherever he went.
Then he thrust once, twice, her body responding eagerly to his penetration, her hips angling to get the most of him. He loved the way she wanted more of him. Now. Not at his slower pace, but at her quicker one. Heels dug into the bed, she welcomed his thrusts as her hands skimmed his back and ass.
He began to stroke her again, watching her expression and enjoying the way her eyes darkened to midnight, the way her mouth parted to take in small gulps of air, the way she flowered under his touch.
“Harder,” she rasped out. “More.” She groaned. “Faster.”
He wanted to laugh, to shout with joy at the way she was ordering him about. He knew the moment the climax hit her by the ripples of spasms clenching his cock, the way her fingers dug into his flesh, the harsh exhale of breath and the words, “Omigod, Connor,” slipping out of her mouth in a breathy, sexy way.
She was a sultry siren and wickedly all his.
Kat didn’t have a chance to marvel at the ecstasy Connor had made her feel with the first bona fide climax she’d ever experienced because he thrust his broad cock deeper inside her with renewed vigor as if her coming had spurred him on to finish before he exploded.
Some primal urge buried deep inside her took over, and as his chest brushed against her aroused and oh-so-sensitive nipples, she bit his shoulder.
Not hard. A love bite, but it made him pause and stare at her for a moment in surprise. She thought she’d done something wrong, although it had felt so right, so natural and instinctive, but then he smiled down at her as if she was the dearest person in his life. His eyes were clouded with lust, and his blood was beating like the drums the natives had been thumping when she’d been so sick.
He pushed inside her again, long and hard and deeper, then thrust quickly as if he couldn’t hold back any longer.
She raked her nails down his skin, careful not to draw blood, just like she hadn’t when she bit him. But the urge to claw and bite and claim him—to breathe in his masculine, musky cat scent and to wear it on her as he wore hers on him—overwhelmed her.
His hands were on her hips, keeping her locked in place, not allowing her to thrust against him in a frantic need to finish this, and he felt the pleasure rising, intensifying. She was again ready to be set free, like molten lava seeking release.
His hot seed filled her just as she felt the new climax that sent her careening to the sun. She cried out as his mouth sought hers, his tongue pressing inside, their bodies still joined.
“We’re not done,” he promised, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, ready for more.
They all slept late, until something disturbed Kat’s sleep as she realized Connor was holding her loosely in his embrace in bed. She wasn’t sure what it had been. Maybe he had twitched in his sleep and awakened her. Embarrassed that she had struck him with her fist the night before, she couldn’t believe that not only had he not minded, but that he had made love to her, not once, but several times during the night and, most of all, had continued to sleep with her. Roger would have gotten angry, acting as though she had done it on purpose. He had even slapped her back once, saying she had been hysterical. Which she hadn’t been.
He’d used that as an excuse to get her back for hitting him and disturbing his sleep, and that was the living end for her.
What a difference there was between the two men. She hadn’t meant to make love to Connor, but she’d wanted the closeness, the tenderness, the heat and raw passion. And he had been all too happy to oblige her.
She couldn’t believe she’d bitten him—twice. Roger would have had her quarantined and tested for rabies if she’d done that to him.
She sighed. Had she fought Connor again in the middle of the night? As hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember. She hoped she hadn’t. But then she smiled, thinking of the comment he had made. If she had slept with him, she wouldn’t be beating on him. And his comment that her hitting him was only a love pat wasn’t nearly the truth. But she loved him for making light of it.
Luxuriating in the feel of his hard muscles pressed against her backside, she basked in the way he kept her close, unlike the way Roger had kept his distance in bed after they’d made love.
Then she thought about all that she had learned about Connor and Maya and herself—as far as being jaguar-shifters went. Now in the light of the day, she couldn’t believe it was true. At least part of her couldn’t get used to the notion. Another part, that half of her that recalled her moonlight run, knew she wasn’t the same as before. Now she had big, dangerous teeth and a furry body when she least expected it.
Connor stirred, pushed the hair at the nape of her neck away, and tenderly kissed her sensitive skin. She purred. Turning to kiss him back, she hoped Maya was sleeping soundly and that she and Connor wouldn’t disturb her. But then she heard men’s voices intruding among the sounds of the jungle. Before she could react, Connor bolted upright.
“They wouldn’t give us any trouble, would they?” Kat whispered, every muscle stiffening in preparation for action. She had an instant flashback of the firefight between Gonzales’s men, her own, and herself. She needed a rifle.
Connor slipped off the bed and pulled on his trousers. “Most of the time, no. Not unless they’re drug runners. Even then they usually leave us alone, and we stay out of their way. But sometimes they push too far into our territory.”
“Then what?” she asked, her voice still hushed.
He looked out the window. “Then we have to do whatever it takes for self-preservation.” He glanced back at Kat and added, “The natives say that a man travels with a jaguar near here, but sometimes they’ve seen a woman with the jaguar.”
“You and Maya?” Kat asked.
“Yeah. The rumors keep the villagers away from our neck of the woods. We believe they’re fearful that we might do something to them if they don’t leave us to ourselves. But others who are not local tromp through here from time to time. They’re ruthless and we have to be just as ruthless back.”
“You have to kill them?”
“It’s either that or they kill us or attempt to take us hostage. They wouldn’t free us for years until someone paid our ransom. And we don’t have anyone who would pay to have us released. Confinement as a jaguar-shifter out here in the jungle isn’t something that we could live with.”
That she could agree with. “But you come here anyway.”
“Most of the time it’s safe enough.”
Maya slipped in through the screen door, her eyes wide. “Four men. They’re looking for the dark-haired American woman by the name of Kathleen McKnight.”
Connor’s mouth gaped, then he turned to stare at Kat. “What is this all about?”
Kat frowned at him. “Manuel… he must have come back for me.” She began to button her shirt. “He must have gotten some men together to try and find me.”
“And if it’s not him?” Maya asked, her eyes narrowed with worry as she tied her hair back into a ponytail.
“Who else would know my name?” Kat asked incredulously.
Connor shook his head. “Gonzales.”
She glowered at him. “I’m no longer in the Army.”
“All right. But you can’t go with this Manuel, if that’s who is with the men, or anyone else. Not now that you are one of us.”